Whole Lotta Grief.

It's fair to say my last week on the Fringe didn't progress as I intended.

The first enemy at the gate was my old friend, the vestibular migraine, which surfaced a couple of times over the first few weeks like a sinister prelude for what lay ahead. Then on the penultimate weekend, what started as a low-level toothache escalated to the point that I had to call 111 to arrange an emergency appointment for a suspected abscess (good times).

I hadn't realised how swollen my bottom jaw was because my beard had concealed it the same way it hides my hideousness from day to day. By last Monday evening, it was extremely uncomfortable and had sent my vertigo into hyperdrive. I was vomiting and felt like seven shades of shit (and that's a lot of shit-shades to deal with).

To cut a long story short, that meant no more shows for me. Firstly, my face was too swollen to speak at length, which is pretty much the definition of standup. I was prescribed antibiotics for the infection, which took a couple of days to kick in, alleviating the pain and the swelling but leaving me with my worst vestibular migraine in years. I accessed my balance each morning in the hope the show could go ahead, but could only ride it out, and by the last weekend, it was no better. Consequently, my last week morphed into an expensive holiday, only one where you seldom leave your digs for fear of falling over.

Despite the frustration, I leave Scotland today optimistic. I didn't want to cancel so many shows, not least as they were the only ones I had press in for, but I just couldn't do them. But that doesn't mean this year's Fringe was a waste. It was a shame to cut my run short just as I'd hit my stride, but there was nothing I could do about it. But I'm happy with the shows I did and the state 'Good Grief' is in as I temporarily leave it.

And as wanky as it sounds, I've learnt a few valuable lessons. One is to not do Edinburgh again without a producer attached and outside funding, as it isn't worth the outlay. I already knew this, but I love to underline these things as expensively as possible. Another is that I'm now a "Fringe veteran" (or so says the festival stalwart, ThreeWeeks). It's strange to think I've now done more solo runs in Edinburgh than with Doggett & Ephgrave, with four under my belt (out of the five solo shows I've written in total). And the me of 2022 is markedly different to the version that made those tentative steps. I've never spoken so freely onstage or been so honest, which has done wonders for my mental health. After a lifetime of redacting to please the unpleasable, I'm no longer watching my back.

On the day of my Hitchin preview, I jotted down a reminder to "find the courage to tell stories" and slipped it into my show notes. It was something I was determined to stay true to, and I did it. "And the rest", as they say, "is Listerine".

Partridge’s pulped book.

Not The Bayeux One.

The Carole King album Tapestry has been my 'getting-ready-in-the-morning' soundtrack for the past few weeks. It's been a favourite album ever since I was a student, which makes for a pleasantly gentle way to usher in the start of a day. I've always been a fan of a well-crafted song, which is something of a Carole King hallmark, ever since she started writing with her first husband in the early Sixties. Tapestry may be an unimaginative choice for a favourite LP, as it suggests I haven't delved that far into her career, but it's still an undoubted classic; anything with '(You Make Me Feel Like A) Natural Woman', 'Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?' and 'You've Got A Friend' on it can't really fail; if nothing else, it proves she likes writing songs with long titles. Next month, she's set to perform the album live in its entirety for the first time at a gig in Hyde Park, which I would have loved to have gone to, if it weren...

Hitchin is Mine.

As of six o’clock tonight, I take over the Hitchin is Yours Twitter account for a week; a stewardship I’m anxious to get right. I’m proud of my hometown. It’s a great place to live, with so much going for it. I've always sold it to my non-Hitchinite friends; so much so, that a lot have gone on to move here. Any town expansion plans are partly my fault. Feel free to picket outside my house. I love its history and architecture. Take St Mary’s Church, for example. The building is beautiful inside and out, and huge for a town of our size. There has been a place of worship on site since the 7 th Century. Much of the present building dates from the 1300s. You wouldn't get that in America. (Don't forget the British Schools Museum too.) Hitchin is a hive for creative people and a hub for the arts. It boast two theatres, two comedy clubs, a couple of art galleries, a festival for world music and a thriving music scene. This drew...

Shakerpuppetmaker.

Have Parker from Thunderbirds and Noel Gallagher ever been seen in the same room? The resemblance is uncanny. So much so, I think something’s afoot. If my suspicions are correct, I've stumbled across a secret that will blow the music and puppet industry wide apart. In the mid-60s / mid-90s at least. It doesn’t take long to see the signposts. There’s the similarity between the name of Oasis’ first single, Supersonic, and Supermarianation, Gerry Anderson’s puppetry technique. The Gallagher brothers would often wear Parkas . Live Forever was clearly a reference to Captain Scarlet and Standing on the Shoulder of Giants to the size difference between Noel and his bandmates. The more you think about it, the more brazen it gets. It’s fishier than Area 51, Paul is Dead and JFK's assassination put together. The only glitch to the theory is scale . According to Wikipedia, Anderson’s marionettes were 1’10” and Gallagher is 5’8”. How does he maintain an illusion of avera...

mostly david ephgrave

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