mostly david ephgrave

I'm trying to comprehend the fact I started at drama school twenty years ago; I find it hard to believe that's possible. How can this be true? I mean, let's be honest: when it comes to anniversaries, twenty isn't a small number. In 1967, that's how much earlier Sgt Pepper gave his band music lessons which would put the year discussed at 1947; comparatively, the length of time passed since my first day at drama school sounds terrifying; I may as well put in an order for a gravestone and a cemetery plot. This is why it's best to not give these milestones much consideration as they'll only make you depressed. I just find it weird that I began training so long ago, which in turn would mean I started my BTEC in performing arts two years prior to that; I'm not going to do the 'first day at school' calculation for fear there's not enough graph paper on the planet. As an aside, I've just realised my BTEC began twenty-two years ago, which wa...

Today, I did what few people in their right mind would do: I had my hair cut by a trainee barber. The problem with the above statement is the word “trainee” encompasses a vast spectrum; they may be on the cusp of receiving their barbers’ qualification (with the final E of “trainee” about to slip back a single letter to spell “trained”) or that may have had a single lesson before you climbed into the chair (the vital “They’re called scissors” chat). There’s just no way of telling until a sizeable percentage of your hair makes that final fateful voyage from head to floor, and your tears have made a similar journey. Now normally, if you asked me the question, “Would you be happy for me to cut your hair though I’m still in training?” on any given day, I’d scream, “Absolutely”, followed by, “NO FUCKING WAY.” For someone who may appear to spend seconds on my barnet, I’m actually rather precious about it; on the very few days I don’t wash it, I se...

For most of the morning, I couldn’t fathom out why today's date seemed familiar. Then it came to me: I started drama school sixteen years ago to the day. That sounds and feels like a long time ago. If my training were a child, it could get married with its parents' consent. It could also do rude stuff. If I were using the same time-frame to chart the distance between my birthdate and the events that preceded it, The Beatles would have just released ‘Help!’, and Winston Churchill, his last breath. I could have worded that better. What I’m saying is, my first day as a full-time drama student is further in the past than it should be. I can remember walking into Hertfordshire Theatre School to meet my year for the first time clearly. As I climbed the rickety staircase from the students’ entrance to the Studio, I was fully aware that I was about to come face to face with the people I’d spend the next three years with. What I wasn’t prepared for ...