mostly david ephgrave

Today I had the embarrassing experience of not realising I didn’t have my wallet with me whilst shopping at the supermarket until I after I’d scanned everything at the self-service checkout. To make things worse, I only had twenty minutes before the shop was set to close, which wasn’t long enough to walk back home to get it. In the end, my wife came to my rescue; driving down with it, while I stood in the foyer like a gimp. I’ve never felt more conspicuous; I may as well have held up a sign with the word ‘INEPT’ emblazoned on it; I’m amazed I can even dress myself. Even though we live five minutes away, the time it took my wife to arrive felt like an eternity, purely due to my embarrassment. Each person who came up to the checkout gave me a strange look, as if they couldn’t for the life of them work out while I was standing there, all uncomfortable, with my unpaid for shopping at my feet, Thankfully it wasn’t too busy at the tills, or a massive que...

This morning, I was briefly worried a cat would play with my wee. I should explain this statement, before you think I’m an oddball. I’m cat-sitting for a neighbour this week, who owns two of the grumpiest-looking, yet sweetest cats I’ve seen. I’ve become this friend’s go-to person for feline-feeding, which suits me, as I like any excuse to spend time with my favourite type of animal, and it suits her, as she’s pleased to have someone who’ll keep them company, rather than just throwing a handful of cat-biscuits into a bowl and then sodding off. Every time I arrive at her flat, one of the cats runs straight for the bathroom and leaps onto the toilet cistern, so she can playfully bat at the water from the tap next to it, should a inferior human accomplice such as me be kind enough to switch it on. I always do, because I’m soft. The downside to my friend’s flat, however, is a distinct lack of doors. So, when I needed the loo this morning, I faced a quandary. I knew that as s...

There’s something demeaning about queueing for the toilet.   Everybody that passes knows why you’re there - and that what lies in store requires specific use of a cubicle. It’s not much better coming out to find a line of people waiting, or that awkward moment when your eyes meet fleetingly with the previous occupant. I remember once doing a Buddy Holly show in a venue without any backstage running water (I say “once”: this happened quite often). The only place I could style my hair was in the front-of-house disabled toilet. I came out to find a man in a wheelchair waiting to use the facilities. I apologized; he eyeballed me and tutted to himself. He then had two sit through two hours of me singing rock and roll music, presumably thinking, “That’s the bastard who was hogging my toilet”. I particularly like the ones on trains with slow-release automatic doors; however urgently you need to use the facilities, you are stuck in...