mostly david ephgrave

It was a little daunting to arrive at my venue today to find the stone floor completely soaked, as a wise man once told me that water and electricity don’t mix; that or they mix all too successfully. I remember this being the case last year too, and I’m used to the slightly lax but inevitable Edinburgh Fringe attitude to health and safety, but while it’s most likely all will be fine, I’d sooner not turn my show into an exercise in snuff comedy, as that’s hardly a viable model for a sustainable career. It doesn’t help that apparently one of the last shows in the room uses a bubble machine and a hazer; surely neither are a very good idea in an entirely enclosed windowless stone wall-and-floored space. They usually have cleaners in first thing in the morning - and last year they had a dehumidifier too (decadence) - but based on the evidence they couldn’t have been in today; all we have to push the damp about this year is a single fan, which I moved ar...

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...

Where would we be without instructions? I had no idea that I was making tea incorrectly. I didn't know about these three simple steps. Think of all the people I have made a cup for in the past; each one quietly seething as they pretended to sip politely.     I didn't know you had to yank the drawstring out at such a jaunty angle, while holding the teabag like a magician doing a card trick. There's definitely some sort of conjuring involved. The string has split in the middle. How is it staying taut? It must be done with magnets.  I'm not sure why you have to hold your hand in a pincer shape while waiting for the tea to brew. Isn't this irrelevant? It looks like one of those claw-cranes you get in amusement arcades.    The illustration peters out before it reaches the arm. Why? They've already drawn the difficult bit.     It must be very hard to pour water in a forked formation (though it would save time when mak...