mostly david ephgrave

To mark Earth Hour tonight, my wife and I turned everything off (with the exception of the fridge) and settled down for a quiz-by-candlelight, with The Beatles Bitesize edition of Trivial Pursuit as our question-master. Anyone who knows me reasonably well will know my grasp of Beatles trivia is pretty comprehensive, although there's knowing stuff and then there's knowing stuff so, while I scored a more-than-acceptable twenty-one, my wife wound up with a fairly impressive twelve, proving that hanging around with me for fourteen years has some benefits. Finally, being with me makes sense: you can be quids-in on Fab Four facts; after all, what could be more useful in a crisis than knowing where The Beatles filmed the beginning of Let it Be (A.K.A. Twickenham Film Studios)?; it seems all the years spent learning this shit paid off.

My dad's been in hospital for a week now, and the latest news is he may need a operation tomorrow, though we should find out more in the morning. You reach a point with all this back and forth where you long for a time when everything wasn't built around health appointments. For someone from a generation that doesn't go to the doctor unless their face has fallen off - and even then it would be reluctantly - my dad has spent a lot of time at the hospital or the doctors' over the past few years. This is great in the sense he's being treated and getting help, but I do think it's conspired to make him more paranoid and careful than he used to be. When things are as they are, this could lead to putting too much aid in place, potentially too early. This is where my dad is at the moment, following a couple of incidents where he'd basically lost consciousness in a challenging situation - either on the floor or in bed. Consequently, he now has a pendant alarm and

It's nice to see my dog get more and more used to being in a public place like a pub and not be phased by it. Today, I met my friend Stephen who'd come down from the Midlands for a catch-up, and during that conversation, Elwood lay on the pub floor, perfectly relaxed and totally on standby; if he had appointments to keep, he didn't let this show. While he's always been pretty accepting of whatever you expect of him - the dog, not Stephen - he's become even more so very recently, which is lovely to see. He knows we're his owners and he tries to please us. Previously, he would have taken longer to settle in a pub, if he ever settled at all, yet today he was quickly fast asleep, which meant I could relax too without worrying that he was on edge; ultimately, he's a very good boy. As for my time with Stephen, it was good to catch up. We briefly discussed the dates we're doing at Bath Comedy Festival next week - Stephen is supporting me there - and did t

Once again, I find myself racing to get on top of things, yet falling short. It doesn't help that my dad's still in hospital with us no knowing when he'll come out; nor does the fact I haven't had time to look over material for my dates in Bath next week. On top of this, a combination of a couple of quiet or slow-to-sell Mostly Comedys have put me on edge, worried that I'm going to have to subsidise a temporary shortfall due to a lack of cash flow, and all this without considering the work I need to do for Edinburgh, but haven't had time to consider yet; is it any wonder I'm close to metaphorically pulling my hair out and who can blame me? The point is, I don't feel anyone's really interested in what I do, other than when I bring acts to Hitchin for people to be impressed by. And even that has a limit, particularly when it happens so often for some of the excitement and allure of who we get to rub off. Then to top it off, the money I take from it

This evening, I quickly knocked up/off - depending on which seems more appropriate - a press release for the extra Mostly Comedy we've squeezed in on 4th April with Tony Slattery, in the hope it's not too late to be featured in the Hitchin Comet this week. It's more likely than not that I've missed the deadline, but I thought it was still worth giving it a go. Until very recently, I'd never missed writing a press release for a gig, but I don't think I've put one together since October last year, for the simple reason that shows keep selling out, making it less necessary. Plus I'd got bored of doing them; there's only so many times you can rejig the same information across a decade before you want to pull your hair out. I've since realised my press release is far-from-perfect - I missed off one of the acts for starters - but here's hoping it helps give the show a push. Here's what I wrote: Press Release – 24 . 03 .1 9 mostly c

Much of today was spent preparing my dad's house for him to be sent home from hospital, for the sending-home-from-hospital to never come. In a way, we were pleased, as we were worried he wasn't fit enough to come back yet, following the state he was in on Thursday when he was taken in, not to mention the fact he hadn't had the scan on his leg his doctor insisted should happen when he was admitted. As it stands, he has a blood infection that's been treated by antibiotics, plus his leg's still slightly swollen. The initial story we were told when we phoned the ward to double-check when he was being discharged today was that he wouldn't be able to go home until Monday at the earliest so they can keep an eye on the infection or any reactions as a result of it, which led Mum and me to let out a sigh of relief; we'd rather know he was being looked after - and fed and watered properly - than risk him being at home alone until the care we've arranged is in pla

Tonight's Mostly Comedy was a slightly lower key affair than usual but was a great night nevertheless with a lovely line-up. Tonight's lovely Hitchin Mostly Comedy line-up from left to right: me, Glyn, Norman Lovett, Bec Hill & Alison Thea-Skot. We weren't as busy as we have been lately - but then you can't always sell out - though we still had a good house. The bill was also one of the nicest you could share a stage with, with Bec Hill and Alison Thea-Skot rocking the first half, while Norman Lovett closed the night. I'm confident that anyone who knows the comedy circuit well would want to see a night like that; I know I would, even if I wasn't at such close quarters. Alison Thea-Skot displays the whole gamut of emotions at Hitchin Mostly Comedy (21.03.19). I'm glad it fell that way this week as all of the stuff with my dad has left me pretty weary and unenthused about performing. Today wound up being no better, with me receiving a call

Watching today's PMQs and becoming aware of the latest game Theresa May was playing to try and get her Brexit deal through made me furious. It's no secret that the process has been catastrophic. Lies and misrepresentation of what the public wants have been rife. Across Parliament, politicians have scored points for themselves with no regard for the repercussions, and frankly, this behaviour is reprehensible and irresponsible and makes me sick. It was one thing to hear May break the news to the House of the impractical brevity of her requested extension to Article 50, but a whole other to hear her castigate everyone bar herself for the holdup in tonight's statement. Her reframing of the events of the past few months to paint herself in a positive light is purely Machiavellian; so much so, she may as well have vanished from her lectern in a puff of smoke. There's nothing more angering that witnessing politicians tell us what we want without consulting us, and yet t

I spend too much time in front of my computer at the moment. When you're constantly back-footed by circumstances, life can feel like a race to make the most of every second. That's how it is right now for me, as I juggle sorting my dad's healthcare with running Mostly Comedy and planning for Edinburgh and the various work-in-progress dates in between. As it stands, I feel like I'm running-on-empty and it doesn't take much to overwhelm me, which is not the best starting point for anyone. All I want is the mental space to prepare for what's ahead, but that doesn't seem like an option. It's not helped by the fact my vestibular migraines have been bad lately, which has helped my concentration no end; it's very hard to negotiate myself around seemingly judgemental people who don't know the reason I'm veering toward them awkwardly is due to my dizziness. The trick is to give your day some semblance of a structure as, without it, stress-levels

Today, I managed to cross another work-related chore off the list by completing and ordering the artwork for my Bath Comedy Festival dates next month. Now, at least the route's a little clearer before the two shows take place. Being honest, I've had next-to-no time to write anything new yet what with my dad's situation and all, so it's likely to be a bit of a mish-mash of old tried and tested stuff, but at least it's a nice gentle warm-up into gigging solo once again. Then by the time I get to Brighton, I'm hopeful I'll have a few fresh ideas to throw into the midst. We also had the pre-sale for Tony Slattery's appearance at Mostly Comedy today, which is selling healthily, particularly when you consider it was only announced at the end of last week. I'm looking forward to having him at the club as he's someone I've always liked, and it's always nice to play host to interesting new people.

Seeing this man's beautiful gesture outside a mosque in Manchester after yesterday's terrible terrorist attack in New Zealand gives me hope. https://twitter.com/BBCRadioManc/status/1106583941836881920 We live in a time where everyone seems out to underline our differences and divisions, creating a politic of mistrust and hate. If it's not Trump stirring up visions of a fictional mass-Mexican invasion of the US, it's Farage blustering about his one-man mission to excise us from Europe as soon as possible. The words of these, to put it broadly, politicians, hoodwink the impressionable to think we're all at threat.  It's like we've lost track of what's important and what we share. It's no wonder there's so much misplaced hatred when just a cursory flick through the arse-end of the press reveals countless reiteration of the differences between "us" and "them".  It made me angry to see today's tabloid front pages att

Like much of the country, I've been watching the recent Brexit coverage like misery porn, unable to look away as much as I do my best to avoid it. It's like one big dose of anxiety you just can't shift. It keeps grinding away at my subconscious, leaving me a wreck. I'm tired of the chaos that never ends. Like many people, I turn to Twitter as a place to vent my frustration, which is, in and of itself, a blessing and a curse. Today, in lieu of a blog, I thought I'd share some of these ramblings in no particular order; if you can pick up on my political leanings you win a prize. 13.03.19: For politicians to keep stating "What the public wants" while not asking is a contradiction in terms. 10.03.19: My favourite moment on this morning's BBC Breakfast: "So, you would have voted to leave and yet you moved to France. What's that all about?" 05.03.19: IAIN DUNCAN SMITH IS FULL OF SHIT. 12.03.19: It says a lot about our recent political

Stress levels are running high within my family at the moment, in response to my dad's health. Ostensibly, he's doing better in the sense that he's in hospital receiving the treatment needed to rebuild him from his fall at the weekend, which was brought on by a combination of dehydration and a kidney infection, which made him hallucinate. The hard thing to contend with, however, is the patience needed to navigate his demands; I love him, and I'd do anything for him, but my God he's frustrating when he's ill.   What usually happens when he ends up in the hospital in an emergency is my mum and I are run ragged for the first few days as we try to make him comfortable and meet his often unclear requests. His patience with us is slim-to-none, and yet we have to blank out his forgetfulness about us. I sometimes feel like I'm Rosencrantz or Guildenstern to my dad's Hamlet, and that I disappear into the ether like a fine mist when I hang up the phone to his

I spent most of today in a corridor of Lister Hospital A&E, waiting for my dad to be checked over after an as yet-to-be-explained fall left him on his hallway floor overnight, unable to get up. Today's the third time he's ended up in casualty in a year - all for different reasons - so the feeling of uncertainty's become too familiar. I went with him in the ambulance after receiving a call from my mum this morning, who found him at the foot of the stairs when she popped over to visit. She initially thought he had fallen down them, which thankfully wasn't the case, but his initial confusion about what had occurred spelt worry as the last time he'd been this incoherent he'd received a nearly fatal bleed to the brain. That day was truly terrible. Thankfully today wasn't as extreme, but we're still worried about him. They've kept him in overnight for tests and broadly speaking they're happy, but I hope he comes home soon and reverts to his nor

"Anyone who accidentally put their mobile phone through the washing machine today, please raise your hand." (David puts his hand up, sheepishly.) It's fair to say this was something I could have done without, and yet I did it anyway. It was a brief lapse on my part, yet still enough to justify my phone laying in a bed of rice for the rest of the evening with its little green LED light stuck on and glowing from the deep ominously. I've yet to learn the extent of the damage though at the moment it won't switch off, which isn't a good sign. That's what comes from doing too much at once. I'd just got back from sprinting through Hitchin with my massive dog on the end of a string and thought I'd quickly put some washing on. I piled it all up and carried it into the kitchen with my mobile nestled on top of it and then somehow managed to post it all in the machine and switch it on without realising. It was only when I told my wife I couldn't find

Much of today was taken up with filming a self-tape audition video for a casting that came through Spotlight. This inevitably meant I didn't get around to the things I'd earmarked for the day, but such is life. It was still productive, though the technology was not playing ball for much of it. For one, I was doing a lot of balancing of devices on top of guitar cases etc so I could film myself - which I'm sure Spielberg does constantly - and then hoping for the best. I was also trying to tick all the boxes of their quite specific requirements within my limited set-up. It was nice to have a casting enquiry come in for a change. It serves to reiterate how different things could be if I had good representation again. When I saw the reference images for the person I'd be playing if I got the job, I could see completely why they'd asked for me, but it would be nice for this stuff to not come up once in a blue moon; just think how many things that could be perfect for

I spent much of today registering this year's Edinburgh show, although I kept being sidetracked by other things that need doing too. I was mainly distracted by the renewal of Glyn's and my public liability insurance, which expires at the end of March. We're in a frustrating situation as regards cash flow, which is being exasperated by a long line of bills that need or needed settling over the last few weeks. The main culprit that's made everything so tight was the hire fee for the Town Hall for July's Dr John Cooper Clarke date; a show that's selling excellently, but the fact the venue costs had to be met in advance long before we receive settlement hasn't helped us. Add an accountant bill, web space and domain-name renewal, a string of extra expenses for last month's Mostly Comedy plus the usual office rent and act fees, and suddenly we're brassic; everything will ultimately settle, but not without carefully moving some money about. The fine art

I'm struggling a little with my meditation at the moment. For a few years, I've meditated almost daily, though admittedly, I've fallen off a bit recently. Perhaps that's the problem, although I think it's only part of it. While the motivation for meditation's often to calm the mind and ease stress and suffering, most teachers suggest not seeking goals; if a byproduct of your practice is a quieter mind then great, but if it isn't, that's fine too. The aim is to accept what's happening at the present moment and move on.  The reason I do it is to create space; for me, it's a breather. It's so easy to allow things to build to the point where you can't see the wood for the trees, and it's then I tend to step away from what I'm doing for ten minutes or so to restore clarity; it's not about creating false serenity so much as returning to now. Sometimes, distraction plagues your head, and when it does, you're meant to acknow

Last night, I listened to an alternate version of my favourite Dylan album 'Blood on the Tracks' over a glass of whisky after buying episode fourteen of the long-running official Bootleg Series 'More Blood, More Tracks' from Amazon on a whim that day. I've been loosely aware a different version of the album existed for almost as long as I've known the original, yet for whatever reason, I hadn't heard the outtakes, either before or after they were officially released last year. Retrospectively, this seems strange when I love the album so much, and when it remained in the shortlist of CDs almost exclusively clogging up my hi-fi as a student. It was the soundtrack to many a stoned evening true-to-type. What makes the material so special is its intimacy, which is unusual of an oblique artist like Dylan. While I'm a fan of much of his work across the span of his career, this is the album I return to most frequently, with 'Time Out of Mind' running

I'm still trying to fight the feeling my life's hit a stalemate. This year is my seventeenth since leaving drama school and, while I've dipped in and out of a variety of jobs in the interim, I feel stuck. In a way, things were simpler when I was jumping from actor/musician work to work as I was pretty much always employed with a sense of an upward trajectory to my career. Then in-between that I'd do the odd play at the small theatre in my hometown to keep my hand in on straight acting and stop me feeling like I'd stepped too far from my original plan. Admittedly, this wasn't without its setbacks. For much of this period, I was still feeling the brunt of my band's split - which was forced by my constant touring - and the sense of having made the wrong choices and taken the wrong route; this played on my mind daily and stunted my enjoyment of my work. My perception of this only really changed when I joined the writers' group The Comedy Project in 2005