Towards the end of our second week of performances here in New York, the temperature outside shoots up into the high 70s and wouldn’t you know it, the air con in the theatre develops a fault.  We have three weekend shows and it can’t be fixed till Monday.  I’m not so concerned for myself, but for the audiences – full houses in a small theatre where they are watching a concentrated serious drama for eighty plus minutes with no interval.  

Amazingly, no-one leaves and no-one faints, though there’s a fair amount of programme flapping.  Riko and I are drenched in sweat and by the end of the two Saturday shows I’m feeling pretty spent.  We have a busy show the next day too, Sunday afternoon, and the heat persists.  It’s astonishing that the audience stays with us, comes with us all the way on our journey into the Hiroshima ‘heart of darkness’ – saving their complaints until afterwards for the front of house managers.  

On Sunday evening, having nothing planned, I am good for nothing anyway.  I lie on my bed, at the downtown guest house where I’m staying, completely flaked out, wondering if I’m suffering from heat exhaustion.  

I compose urgent emails to the theatre director and manager.

Next day, Monday May 4th, is a day off, and of course, it tips down with rain!  Not until I’ve walked some of the wonderful, leafy High-Line, though; after which I wend my way to Little Italy – where the words of ‘Volare’ are spelled out in little lights, strung across the streets.  I dive into a recommended restaurant, Zia Maria, and have a delicious lunch while watching the rain bucketing down outside.  At least the temperature is cooler.