mostly david ephgrave

This turning 41 lark is a bit of a funny one. While last year's birthday was one to be aware of, this year has made me a smidge more melancholy. Only a bit, though. I'm well aware of how these little emotional peaks and troughs fluctuate, and consequently, I try not to read too much into them. Reflection can be a poisoned chalice, and I've had a lot of reasons to look back lately, which were bound to affect me, so I'm trying not to overthink it. I try not to get too drawn into what doesn't matter now. The online world is a case in point. It only takes a quick browse of Instagram or Facebook to be confronted by at least three things that'll make you feel shit, particularly if you're not in the habit of carefully cultivating your social media presence. You start being bothered by stuff you'd never consider in real life.  "Why wasn't I invited to this terrible event I'd despise if I'd attended?" Why does everyone look so happy in this

The big news is I'm taking a show to Edinburgh this year, and I'm trying to get as much of the admin sorted as swiftly as possible so I can clear time to write it. As it stands, I'm creaking toward that kicking-off point. The show will be about my dad (the one slated for 2020 until Covid hit and put paid to that), and I'm excited and apprehensive about the task ahead. There's so much I want to get across - as my pages of scribbled notes already testify - but primarily, I want to capture my dad's character so that the audience leaves the room feeling like they just met him, which is no mean feat. And I want to tackle what's it like to lose a loved one without forgetting that the show's a comedy (which, as far as challenges go, is worthy of fully spandexed Anneka Rice). What's helped so far is the groundwork I did in 2020. For example, I already had a blurb that just needed tightening up. And I've also got a lot of material about him already, which

It may be a symptom of feeling a little rundown and sorry for myself, but listening to a random Oasis song this morning surprised me by hitting me right in the heart. The song was 'Don't Go Away' from their overblown 1997 album, 'Be Here Now'. I don't even know why it entered my head as it wasn't a big hit and, if anything, comes across as a little generic. But, for whatever reason, I requested it via everyone's favourite spy-in-the-room, Alexa, and, within minutes, I was blubbing like a Daily Express reader who's just seen a photo of Princess Di. Or George Osborne at Thatcher's funeral.  Okay, I may be exaggerating, but it moved me, even though it was probably the germs talking. Oasis are an odd band for me as there was a time when I was really liked them. They appeared on the scene when I was a guitarist in a group at school and somehow made being in a rock band seem viable again. But my love for their music faded quickly, and now, most of thei