mostly david ephgrave

Today, I took part in my first online group meditation session via the video conferencing app Zoom (which is very much the app of the moment). It happened to start in the nick of time as I received an email from Just the Tonic seconds before to inform us off-the-record that this year's Edinburgh Fringe was cancelled. I knew it was unlikely to go ahead with the COVID-19 situation as it is, but it's still a blow that's hard to compute; particularly when I lost last year's Fringe to circumstances beyond my control too. The meditation session itself was great. My old meditation teacher Neelam led us through it with finesse. I'd booked to attend their in-person meditation classes this term, but hadn't been along, so the video version was a welcome diversion. There were fifteen of us taking part and a real sense of solidarity despite our enforced isolation as we followed Neelam's instructions; he has a wonderful turn of phrase that helps you see your prac

I'm currently struggling to deal with my feelings about the direction my life is going; partly to do with the coronavirus situation and partly not. The future's always been a difficult concept for me to consider, or believe in. It doesn't help that my circumstances when I was a child hardwired a sense of not being worthy of happiness or good enough. While I've spent years working on being kinder to myself and now understand that the idea that I don't deserve to be happy is irrational, I'm still very hard on myself. I put myself down quickly, and worry that I don't work hard enough or serve a purpose, or provide sufficiently for my family. As a teenager, I couldn't look ahead. I put a time-limit on my life, and while I was very ambitious, I told myself I wouldn't make it past nineteen. It felt like my parents' problems were my fault and mine to fix, and mine were unimportant. At best, I was a creative person - what with my band and my int

I'm adjusting to a world where the voice behind my frequently unhelpful self-editing is no longer in my arsenal. (No bum jokes here, please.) Pretty much every time I write, perform, tweet, speak or think, a part of my brain kicks in, assessing how a particular person in my life will react to it. I wish that were an exaggeration, but it's true. Admittedly, I'm internalising, but it's an act of self-protection as it was easier to run it past the fictional version of them than face the wrath of the real one. Now, albeit in the worst circumstances, I'm turning to a new dawn, where their view isn't relevant.  Doing this involves limiting exposure to both the imaginary and real voice; neither will be easy as they've been there forever, but as the years progressed, they became synonymous with being made to feel guilty at the expense of me. The relationship was imbalanced with more emphasis on making me feel bad for not living up to their expectations

Today's blog is more of a charitable appeal than anything. My friend Stephen lost his job on Monday with no notice, due to the coronavirus situation. He's multitalented, kind & conscientious, and could do with a break. He's currently based in Northants but can relocate to Hitchin, Herts if necessary. You'll find his CV below; any help's much appreciated. Email: stephenhalliday@yahoo.co.uk

I like Noddy Holder's music, but I can't abide his staff payment policy. Topical. To say, "We're living in unprecedented times" is an understatement. The day-to-day escalation's anxiety-provoking to the extreme. As a self-employed actor, I'm hugely worried about my livelihood, and the irony that now's a time when I would have expected to feel more secure than usual - because of the money I inherited when my dad passed away - isn't lost; the truth is that once I've bought a relative out of my dad's house and settled as much debt as I can manage, there'll be nothing left; it would help if this relative would consider an amount more representative of the fact they're dealing with an immediate family member, but they won't discuss it, so that's that. Yesterday, a good friend lost their job with zero notice as a byproduct of the circumstances. It's frightening how things can change so quickly. As for me, everythi

If my careers advisor Mr Chilcott could see me browsing government websites to find out if a self-employed performer is eligible for any financial relief, he'd be laughing on the other side of his sepia-toned head, the fucking git. Yes, that's right: his bonce followed a strict, olde-worlde colour scheme like he'd been photographed on a Victorian filmstock; that, or he'd been forged from melted-down Olympic medals, with a bronze face, silver hair and gold glasses (think of the strength it took to nod it). And it wasn't just his head that was reminiscent of days of yore, as his brain followed outdated thought patterns too. Consequently, he told me that being an actor & musician wasn't a real job, and I should consider being a teacher instead. Well, in your jaundiced face , Mr Chilcott, as most teachers aren't working now too. Didn't see that coming, did you? Admittedly, they're protected by salaries, unions and the like, while all I'v

It's fair to say we're living through a difficult time, and while it's hard to know what's ahead, it worth taking the opportunity to take stock of where we're lucky. I know I couldn't manage without my wife, and how fortunate I am to have her. We've been together for fifteen years and married for a little under six, and she's my most ardent supporter. Being with me isn't straightforward and comes with its challenges, but she stands up to them and makes things better. If I hadn't had her to help me through the mental health mess I was in when we met, I wouldn't still be here today. I know I wouldn't. And that comes with a lot of pressure, but she's still with me (the fool) and, despite it all, we still have a lot of fun. And while it may be soppy, I'm grateful for our dog. He brings a spark to my day and fills it with energy and positivity. He came from Wood Green Animal Shelter a little over a year ago and is a perfect fi

I've got to break through the fug of my current mindset to get my comedy-writing mojo back. My ideas pad (mostly full of bus times and general admin). It's hard to find the energy or will to write at the best of times when procrastination looms & lurks like a loom-lurker, without the current circumstances ramping my lethargy up a gear. It's not that my sense of humour's gone, though I now need dowsing rods to detect a joke. And even when I find one, my bastardly depressive mind kicks in to scupper it: "What's the point, David? No-one will pay you for this." When Glyn and I started renting an office six years ago , I'd get into the routine of going down there first-thing to work. But before long, I'd be swamped with admin of running a comedy club without the joy of something creatively worthwhile to offset it; at least when I was writing a show I had a place to run it - albeit a tiny one - though, in time it became another isolatio

I know now's not a good time to feel defeated, but I do. It doesn't help that my main source of income - Mostly Comedy - is on enforced hiatus (although I've been predominantly ploughing money into it lately) or that the Bath Comedy Festival and Brighton Fringe have both been postponed until after Edinburgh (the thing they were in the diary to prepare for, although there's currently a big question mark hanging over that too). On top of that, there's my ongoing situation with an unaccountable relative, which involves so much scapegoating and negative reinforcement, the best course of action is to step away entirely before you're enveloped in the blame-game; it must be nice to be so guilt-free. But there's more to it than that: I'm tired of feeling like nothing's going anywhere. Being self-employed for eighteen years requires an iron constitution and endless energy, and frankly, I'm spent. I miss the collaboration that went with being

I'm navigating a situation at the moment that threatens to overwhelm me if I'm not careful.  (Thankfully, I have support, and I'm approaching things mindfully, but it takes a lot of careful management to keep my panic at bay...except I shouldn't have to do that.) To make matters worse, the other party's never careful. If they feel wronged, they lash out. And they feel wronged always. That's not hyperbole; if anything, I underplay it. And in their world, a lie's as good as the truth if it has the desired effect. And what's the difference? Now's the only reality and everything else is projection. And nothing is sacred if it strengthens their point. (With that mentality, years of abusive behaviour can be dismissed in a few seconds, because it didn't affect them negatively; not for me though as I lived through it with awareness.) Yesterday was a struggle. More than once, I felt on the verge of giving up. At one point, I looked at one of

With the current coronavirus crisis progressing as it is, it was nigh on inevitable that we'd cancel next week's Hitchin Mostly Comedy; it wouldn't have been responsible to go ahead, irrespective of whether the government's banning public gatherings yet. ( https://www.thecomet.net/what-s-on/theatre-arts/hitchin-mostly-comedy-night-postponded-1-6561683 ) The question is: what happens, from here on in? If the virus continues to spread, theatres, venues and the entertainment industry as a whole will grind to a halt, as may be necessary for public safety, but what might be a luxury item for the audience is a way of life for those who work in it. And in the same way that heightened terrorist activity or economic crises often lead to poor turnout, the fear of contracting COVID-19 could potentially decimate the number of people going out. Short-term, postponing next week's gig was the right thing to do all around. Firstly, ticket-sales were already down, presu

Today, I received word that my dad's gravestone has been laid, along with a photograph to prove it (not that I was in any doubt). It's these things you can be a little unsure how you'll react to; it was like seeing his coffin at the funeral or carrying his ashes casket at the burial. There's a sense of finality and actuality that can be a little unsettling if don't prepare yourself for it. But any time I worry, I remind myself that it's just my dad and I love him, and I needn't be afraid, because there'll never be a reason to be frightened when he's nearby, ever. When the paramedic asked if I wanted to see him when I arrived minutes after he'd died, I faltered for a moment. But I quickly mentally corrected myself, because I knew I had a responsibility to him as my dad, and because I knew he'd need me. He told me more than once towards the end that I made him less afraid when I was there, so I was glad there was a way I could acti

It's been a while since I've posted a Mostly Comedy press release in place of a blog here. And as our next Hitchin gig's just thirteen days away, now seems as good a time as any to do it: Press Release – 04.03.20 mostly comedy a monthly comedy club at hitchin town hall On 19th March, Doggett & Ephgrave’s popular monthly club at Hitchin Town Hall, Mostly Comedy, will play host to the Olivier-nominated comedian, writer, broadcaster and all-round British institution ARTHUR SMITH , who will both perform and then be interviewed by the duo for their More Than Mostly Comedy podcast. Arthur is best known for his appearances on BBC's Grumpy Old Men , QI , Have I Got News For You and The One Show , plus hosting BBC Radio 4 Extra’s Comedy Club and BBC Radio 2’s Smith Lectures . He is a Spirit of The Fringe award-winning Edinburgh Festival stalwart and the Olivier-nominated writer of An Evening With Gary Lineker . He started out as a member of the 1980s’

Everything has been in such a state of flux since my dad died that I try my best to ground myself in the truth. There's nothing much more unsettling than having reality questioned when that's an oxymoron at heart. While it's easier to accept a person holds a different opinion to you, to be an opinion, it has to be a concept you can debate, and not an undeniable event. Having to defend whether a tangible thing happened moves the goalposts, as you're then dealing with a person who's happy to shift the unshiftable to make their point, which means they'll use lies as evidence of their version of the truth. Half of the problem I've had with a person lately is due to that paradox. While it shouldn't be this easy, blank denial is almost an impervious argument, as you can't get anywhere near to the point. And if someone is prepared to say black is white repeatedly, it's not a conversation; it's a stonewalling exercise. But if you know so

This may sound ludicrously simplistic, but today I came to the startling therapy-assisted realisation that from now on, I genuinely don't have to worry what one person thinks.  This shit could change my life. It's the one good thing to come out of an awful situation, though ironically, it was a right I should have had anyway, that had long been overwhelmed. A sentence I've often used to explain the nature of our relationship was that I always felt a step away from disappointing this person as a natural starting point; so even if I did what they wanted, that moment had passed with the next potential let-down just around the corner. And I often couldn't predict what their expectations would be, which made it relentless. You also couldn't discuss the problem without making things worse; at best we'd argue without progress, and if we were on the phone, they'd often hang up. (But I don't want to make this about them when this realisation'