mostly david ephgrave

I said goodbye to my beautiful cat Millie yesterday, which was very painful. My wife and I took her in after her original owner died nine years ago and she was the perfect addition to the household. She fitted in perfectly with our routines and enriched our lives with her company. We were worried at first that she might not be happy to be an indoor cat as we weren’t entirely sure if she had been allowed out previously, but she never asked once; we were also concerned she’d discover the two budgies we kept in the one room she wasn’t allowed into but she never seemed to catch on to it, which saved us from any gruesome Hannibal Lector-like moments. I know it’s still early days, but I’ve yet to process the fact she’s gone. I was out for most of the day, but more than once this evening it’s slipped my mind briefly. I keep expecting to see her then catching myself and remembering; to give her a cuddle and a fuss while you did what you were doing was ...

I’m currently feeling that inevitable lack of a sense of purpose that comes with finishing a big thing and not quite knowing what to next. I know I shouldn’t dwell on this for too long, as it’s probably tiredness that’s feeding it more than anything, and I’m entitled to a break, but I’m never very comfortable with stopping what I’m doing for long; I’ve been so busy for the last month particularly that it’s bound to feel weird to suddenly not be performing every day or focusing my attention so heavily on the mechanics of my show, but there’s still the slight feeling of anticlimax; it’s not like I was expecting anything big to come from Edinburgh, but I would still like things to step up a gear following it; I just need the right kind of person to represent me and steer me in a positive direction. Today wasn’t particularly work-heavy regardless, as it was mostly taken up with cat-sitting for my neighbour, though I was pleased to see my two Leicester Square Theatre dates go o...

Today, I was sad to learn that a friend's cat who I'd been popping by to feed and keep company for most of the week died last night. Inevitably, my first thought was 'was it my fault?'. I knew I hadn't done anything wrong, and there was no suggestion that the owner thought I had, but I still couldn't help but feel responsible. The cat had a heart condition for which she received medicine every day (cunningly hidden in a bowl of tuna), which she knocked back all week like a little trouper. Her twin sister who lived with her is slightly more predisposed to be friendly, but if you settled on the sofa and ignored her she'd eventually come to you, and roll onto her back for purry tummy tickles; I'm much the same myself. It's such a shame that she's gone. I hope her sister won't be too lonely or confused and her owner isn't too upset. On writing this while travelling on the tube, I absent-mindedly flicked a cat-hair from my jacket, before re...