mostly david ephgrave

Today was my aunt's funeral. The first word that springs to mind when I think of her is "kind". She loved her family to bits and they doted on her. She married my dad's brother in 1965 and it was clear they loved each other inside out. And even though I saw her less as the years went by, she always made me feel at ease at family events. And as the woman who's put up with a male Ephgrave the longest, statistically speaking, she deserved a medal (he says in jest). The service itself was lovely. She'd played an active part in its planning, which made it feel more intimate. COVID restrictions meant only thirty people could be there, which must sting, but I was glad to be among them. And it was good to see my uncle and my cousins even if it was in the worst circumstances; it always strikes me how the Ephgraves have a look and sound about them, with shades of my nan and grandfather - and of course my dad - on every face. Inevitably, my thoughts turned to him today. ...

Today, I found myself thinking about the changing seasons, now that Autumn draws near (not that you'd know it from the weather) and how this relates in a sense to my new house. (That's the first time I've called it that, without any caveats, which is progress.) Seasons are an obvious way to chart passing time that's illustrative of rebirth and development. They roll on endlessly, outside of our control, leaving us to adapt to them; when it gets warmer, short sleeves are prevalent, and when it's brass monkeys, out come the Winter coats.  Personally, I'm standing on the edge of real change. After twenty-one years in Hitchin (or essentially my adult life), I'm moving to a village outside it, into the closest thing to my family's spiritual home*. My grandparents bought the house in the late-1940s / early-1950s and raised my dad and his brother here, with my dad moving back when my parents separated when I was a kid. And now here I am, making it my home with ...

I'm trying to keep everything relatively lowkey at the moment and focus on the precious little things that bring good. One such thing is spending time with the dog and enjoying what he enjoys. He loves shooting around the garden, and I like to watch him and spur him on. I'm often so caught up in my head from day to day that I take things like this - or taking him for a walk - for granted. I'm trying not to though, as these moments are what life is all about. Spending time with the wife is another example (though the second-billing was accidental). We've had a lot to process lately, and while this stuff doesn't just vanish, I think we've earnt some time away from it. Recent events have underlined how you can spend a lifetime trapped in someone else's timeline to almost miss out on your own. But approaching forty is a good time to make a conscious effort to live a little differently: to attempt to look to the present and the future instead of always l...

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...

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...

There's a lot to be said for those little moments of laughter and support that intersperse the pain of reframing my life with a better understanding of my mistreatment. It's easy to focus on the negative and let it overwhelm you. And at the moment, the bad stuff's easily found. But I'm also adjusting to the realisation that the worst things I experienced weren't my fault. Genuinely. It was all part of a coercive situation I had no control over despite trying my best. Yesterday, I had a chat with my aunt to fill her in on the many twists and turns since my dad's burial (when we last spoke) as I tried to protect my dad's house. And it was a relief to find - amid the inevitably incredulous reaction - time to laugh at how stupid it all was and point out the transparently obvious motivation with all its requisite double-standards. Because she and my dad's brother can see what's happening. There was also time to chat about other unrelated things t...

It's a measure of how appalling things have been in my personal life since my dad's death in May that I haven't posted here for the best part of three months, and was barely writing here before that either. I stopped because I found myself stuck in a loop with nothing new to say, or at least nothing I felt I could express freely without making my circumstances worse.  Being honest, this hasn't really changed, and I don't feel much more secure than I did back then, and this is largely thanks to the sustained behaviour of someone from whom I'd expect the opposite treatment if how they are related to me bore a resemblance to their conduct around me. But the stark reality I'm coming to terms with is the person I needed never existed for me or anyone else. They used to read my blog regularly, "So I know you're okay", which makes me wonder whether they noticed I'd gone silent, or why reading I was struggling didn't make them any kinde...

I don't feel much momentum at the moment; everything's at a standstill. When I did the only preview that went ahead this year, I found energy I hadn't expected that drove the show along and made me feel I could still do Edinburgh, despite  the inevitable impact of the loss of my dad and the circumstances around it ; that, plus the money donated, showed I had support from an unseen audience. However, the project was inevitably on a knife-edge and still vulnerable to collapse; it was a delicate balance susceptible to sabotage from extra pressure. And that's what happened: I hit a familiar brick wall. The inability to strike a temporary compromise with a close relative over my dad's estate made me feel unable to leave home for a month with everything in flux, so I cancelled the run with a few days' notice at a cost of over £6000. And not only did the relative never mention the cancellation or the fact I was meant to be doing Edinburgh at all  until a ...

Today we buried my dad's ashes at the church in Woolmer Green where we had his funeral, opposite his old school and the pub he drank in regularly, in the same grave as his parents. The service was brief but pleasant, in the presence of his close family, and I had the responsibility of lowering the casket at the opportune moment. Doing this was hard, inevitably, but it also meant a lot to be the one to do it, and I hope it would give me dad comfort to know the task went to me; I love and miss him unceasingly and he's always on my mind (look out, Willie Nelson), and he told me not long before he died that I made him less afraid, so I hope I helped. There's one conversation we had in his last few weeks that was pertinent. Like many men, we didn't express the depth of our feelings until the last moment, but they could still be summed up in a few words. At the time, my heart ached as we navigated difficult topics knowing there wouldn't be a second chance. But I ...

I feel like my life's on pause.  My impetus has gone at the moment. It's almost impossible to see beyond the mess I'm in, to a time when I can live in my dad's house and look to the future, while still allowing space for my past to be important.  Creatively, I have no interest in work; in fact, it's not that I'm disinterested, I just can't concentrate on anything. I'm already anxious about Thursday's Mostly Comedy; I have no desire to be funny and I'm certainly not match-fit. Hopefully, Glyn and I can just stick to some well-trodden material so I don't have to perform on my own. It's daunting to be back in a situation where the past threatens to overwhelm my present, and all because what I suffered - both as a child and as an adult - has been rendered unimportant by someone who hasn't the right to do that. And that person - who never played by the rules or tried to meet other people's expectations - continues to act a...

While it's fair to say life's currently challenging, I'm carefully trying to navigate the difficulty - despite the pain involved - to look to the future and a time of change. Before I continue, I should make it clear it took me a long time to arrive at that sentence. It was by no means my starting point, having gone through three of four bleak drafts that painted my situation with brutal honesty. But while I'm allowed to speak my mind, I'm bored with giving negativity power when I want to be done with it.  One thing's for certain: right now my anxiety levels are through the roof. I'm permanently in fight or flight mode, psychologically waiting for the next attack. It's probably counter-productive, but I've been drinking more than usual, something I'm not supposed to do on my medication, though I try to be careful. This probably doesn't help my mood, but it waters down my edginess a little and switches my brain off. While it's...

It's only over the past few days that the fact I'm not in Edinburgh has started to tug at the heartstrings. It doesn't help that everything's resoundingly shit at the moment and that's no understatement; so much so, the fact I had to cancel my Fringe run having shelled out thousands of pound's worth of donations and Dad's/my money for no reason has become a minor footnote to my terrible situation; at any other time, this last-minute change of plans and what it stood for - being forced to abandon a year of work - would be the overriding event, but here it's barely significant. When this eventually stops being something I feel forced to keep to myself, I might at least have the relief that comes with understanding; I had every intention of still going to Edinburgh right up to a few days before when someone's actions were such I felt I no longer had a choice. And they're yet to even acknowledge I didn't go, which says a lot by omission....

If there was ever any doubt that I look like my dad, this photograph lays it to rest. I found it today while visiting his house to set up a location for my promotional image for Edinburgh (for which all will be revealed shortly). Each time I'm there, I see something that either makes me smile or makes my heart catch in my throat; it's like an exercise in getting closer to him, to be hit by the fact he's now so far away, and I hate that. It's not the first time I've seen a picture where our resemblance is so obvious, but it's still nice to be reminded of it. It looks so like the younger me in my band days, it's ridiculous, even down to the flares, which I used to wear despite the fact it wasn't the 1970s. It's a comfort to know we share this, though I just wish I could take to him about it. I talk to him quite a lot when I'm there on my own. I say how much I miss him and how I wish things weren't as they are, and try to explain the ...

I've inevitably cancelled tomorrow's work-in-progress date in Brighton as the situation with my dad's taken over so much I haven't had time to think about it. I'm hoping that scratching the show from my diary will open up time to think about next week's one, though in reality, my dadmin seems set to overwhelm all other plans at the moment. On top of this, a load of interwoven Mostly Comedy work that had to be completed very quickly has taken up what little brain space I had left. My main motivation right now is my dad's safety, but it's proving hard to keep on top of this when he's become so lapse with the basics. Today, my aunt and uncle went over to visit to report back their concerns to my mum, who called me, asking if I could try to get hold of him on the phone as no-one else was having any luck. In the end, I pulled rank by dropping in on the Amazon Echo I bought him primarily for this reason (I always give him the option to answer first but...

Yesterday my dad went in for emergency surgery, which is obviously not the sort of situation you want to contend with. Thankfully all went well, the operation was pretty speedy and they were very happy with him, but the day still felt yawningly long, particularly in the morning, while we were waiting for him to go down to theatre. I caught the bus to the hospital at 6:45am to meet my mum so we sit with my dad until the porter took him through; he was lucky to be prioritized due to the urgency, so was first on the list that day, but the procedure still didn’t start until about 11:am, so inevitably we spent those four hours at a constant state of high alert, waiting for the moment to come. My role in these circumstances is to placate and reassure, which I don’t mind as it seems to help. That doesn’t mean I’m not worried too, but I tend to be quite good at retaining the information given to us by the medical staff, as well as reminding my family that things aren’t as ominous ...

Today, my wife and I met up with my parents for a session playing on the Wii. The idea was mooted during a spell of board-gaming on Boxing Day as something that might be fun, and it was. The fact my wife was the only one of us to be particularly familiar with the console was a bit of a leveller; my mum and dad had never touched one before, while I seldom use a Wii remote for anything more strenuous than browsing Netflix. We started with ten-pin bowling, which was a gentle way in, before going for a more challenging round of golf, followed by a few Wii Party games. No-one took it too seriously; not even my mum, which was surprising, based on past evidence . It felt like something we’ll do again. Nobody accidentally threw the remote at the telly either, which was a bonus. It’s nice to be doing more social things together. It makes a change from meeting up for the odd meal now and then, which will always be a little staid in comparison. My dad...

This afternoon, I’ll be taking part in what is the Ephgrave family equivalent of playing with fire: I will be sitting around a table, playing board games with my mum. Her problem is she is incredibly competitive. Not in a friendly, low-key, “I'm having a bit of laugh” way; more in a high stakes, no-holds-barred, “I must succeed at all costs” way. The ruthless ambition displayed when she has a plastic counter at her fingertips must be seen to be believed; if one of her ancestors was responsible for a totalitarian dictatorship, I wouldn’t be shocked. Unfortunately, my mother’s killer instinct will often bring out the worst in me; I evidently inherited the same cutthroat genes, in a slightly watered down form. She will also delight in my personal gaming misfortunes; the unabated joy she exudes when I get an answer wrong is similar to that of a multi-million pound lottery winner. She also doesn’t play fair. A good example to...