mostly david ephgrave

From today, after twenty-three years there, I officially no longer live in Hitchin. Elwood looks down at Hitchin: the master of all he surveys (01.02.19) What's changed is I've sold the flat my dad helped me buy seventeen years ago, with the funds going toward his childhood home. Still, leaving Hitchin is a big thing to process. The beautiful little market town has become hardwired as my home; a base to come back to when I was touring; a location to run a comedy club; a place to carve my own identity (with the emphasis on the "tit" bit). That's not to say I'm not pleased to be moving to the village where my dad grew up. And it's not a completely new experience as it was our base for much of the pandemic while we waited for the flat to go. But the moment the sale went through was significant; to no longer have a base in the town I've lived since I was a nineteen-year-old drama student was a big moment. I'll always love it. And if asked at gunpoint w...

A pleasing byproduct of downloading the app for the camera on my dad's doorbell so I can answer the door on his behalf is I can now speak loudly to the village at any given moment like the God of Woolmer Green. While I say this in jest, being able to keep an eye on what's happening at my dad's house will bring a lot of reassurance. From time to time, it can be hard to get hold of him, which based on previous experience can be more than a little concerning; he's been rushed to the hospital now more than once, with the only warning being the fact we couldn't raise him, so for me to be able to see when the carer's visited is great. Anything that creates a sense of contact is to be encouraged. I demonstrated the app to him again while I was there today, in the hope he might take it on board and use it more often. The problem is his illness and inaction have made him so passive that he struggles to engage with anything, so the hope he might press the right...

I did a short spot at an open mic gig in Finsbury Park tonight, which is becoming a habit; primarily as it's so near to home.  There was a real sense of luxury when I came out of the gig and it was only half eight. This makes me wonder why on earth I put myself through something if I'm that pleased by the realisation that I'll get home early; is this normal? Does everyone get that excited at the thought of finishing whatever they've set out to do? I know many people see work as a means-to-an-end and aren't defined by their job, but isn't performing meant to be different? You certainly don't do it for the money (unless you were one of the central cast of Friends or Frasier, when I imagine the massive episodic fee was a pleasant by-product).  That's not to say that I didn't enjoy tonight; it's a nice little gig, and was useful as a chance to try out a couple of stories I haven't told in public before - but ...