mostly david ephgrave

I married my wife seven years ago today. Well, that's not strictly true as she wasn't my wife when I married her. Though as soon as we got married, she was. There were split seconds between being single and betrothed, but those tiny increments would be vital when say, opening a joint bank account or taking out a mortgage. And you've got to get that shit right. Being married has only brought good. It strengthened our relationship while reassuring me that there's someone on my side when I lose faith. It's no coincidence that I often play with my wedding ring when I'm nervous or anxious. It's a physical aide-memoire of our partnership, which started sixteen years ago and has only grown with time. In many ways, that's my proudest achievement and the best thing in my life (though my automatic cigarette-rolling machine comes in at second place; that thing's witchcraft, I tell you). And how could we not be the perfect team when our conjoined surnames make t...

I lost my dad a year ago today; I don't know where the time's gone. He's never far from my mind though. And nothing I do could have happened without him. Because, as he once poetically put it, "You can't even wipe your own arse".  I'm inevitably feeling a little fragile. There's a dull, heavy ache in my body and the need to take things gently. Anniversaries seldom hold much weight for me as I know the date's arbitrary, but this one's a little different as it marks the first year gone. The first full cycle. And that's not easy to consider, however matter-of-fact I try to be. I visited the cemetery today where he's buried, as I often do, and took my dog with me. It was probably due to the hot weather more than anything, but when we arrived at the grave, my dog sat down at the foot of it and made himself comfortable, chewing the grass. It seemed like a good idea, so I joined him (minus the grass bit). We sat there together, by m...

Fourteen years ago yesterday, I went on my first date with my wife, which now puts us in our fifteenth year; I wonder if we get a prize for this? Or a grant at least. If I try to weigh up whether it feels that long ago, I'd say it probably does - it certainly doesn't seem like only last week - and yet I can safely say that night at the Hen & Chickens in Islington was the beginning of something truly special for me that still keeps giving fourteen years later; without wishing to provoke vomit, my life got better from there on in. The main thing I gained was the sense of a problem shared; I know we're a team and I have someone I trust implicitly. I'm very aware of how fortunate I am to have this. It's also something that time only strengthens and getting married strengthened it still. To say I'm lucky would be an understatement when so many people struggle to find someone to be with, let alone have anything in common. Somehow, I landed on my feet (which ...

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...

It’s hard to fathom, but today sees the third anniversary of Paul Daniels’ appearance at Hitchin Mostly Comedy; a night that will hold the title of our Most Memorable and Exciting Gig forever. The evening was wonderful from beginning to end, with Paul and his wife Debbie McGee being both low-key and hands-on from the off; happy to be a part the night and to throw themselves into the spirit of it. It also happened to be of huge significance to me personally, as before I was an actor, musician and comedian (and wicker-bottom chair repairer) I wanted to be a magician, and it was the Paul Daniels Magic Show that sowed the seed of my becoming a performer (which Daniels refused to take the blame for when I told him). While that show would have been special regardless, it became all the more marked when Paul sadly passed away just four months later. I’m grateful I got to meet my hero, though I would have of course loved it to have been the first of many times he darkened our doors (whic...

I got married four years ago today. It’s strange to think it was so recent, though in many ways it seems like only yesterday. We were fortunate to have a perfect day with lovely weather and a beautiful little venue called the Mayfair Library (which only opened as a temporary replacement for Marylebone Register Office while it was being refurbished, which is a shame as it was such a nice place) plus a small group of people who were comfortable with each other. One of my two Best Men, Stephen, often rather flatteringly cites it as the perfect wedding; I don’t know about that, but it was certainly right for us. Getting married still feels like the best thing I've done four years on. My wife’s still my best friend after over thirteen years together and legally formalizing our relationship (to put it romantically) only made things better. We were lucky everything fell into place on our wedding day and on our honeymoon too (apart from a cancelled flight meaning a longer stay in Ven...

Yesterday was a day of personal significance for two reasons: (1) it was thirteen years since I stumbled across an article in the Telegraph about a racist festival in Padstow whose name blew my mind, and (2) it marked the thirteenth anniversary of my first date with my wife. (Above) Headline from Daily Telegraph (25.02.05). (Below) a photo of the festival - called Darkie Days - taken from the same article. There’s no debate over which occasion was most important to me; you need only note how rarely I’ve blacked up since 25 th February 2005 to have your answer. That’s not to say that being with my wife for three years past a decade isn’t cause to celebrate; Jolson jazz-handed stance or no Jolson jazz-handed stance. It’s hard to judge whether it seems that long ago or not; in many ways it feels longer, though in a positive sense. I’m of no doubt my life got better the moment we got together; she’s enriched me in a way that’s never ceased in all this time and ...

It’s hard to fathom, but in a few months it will be a decade since my old band Big Day Out got together one last time for a special reunion gig to raise money for Glyn’s and my first Edinburgh Fringe. I don’t how it can be so long ago; it’s frightening really. And that anniversary’s just the half of it, as while our reunion gig may have been ten years ago, we actually officially split up six years before that. Sixteen years have passed since we were still a going concern, which is as long as I’ve been out of drama school too. It was a sad end to something very special that, at the time, meant the world to me. When we broke up I was ripped apart, and what made it worse was I was the reason it ended, after the two consecutive UK tours I took after leaving college left the rest of the band thinking they could no longer wait for me. In retrospect this seems silly when, in reality, we could have easily found a way around it. But back then, faced...

Today marks the 37 th anniversary of John Lennon's assassination, which is almost as long as he lived, which I find difficult to fathom. For someone like me, who was born a few months after Lennon died, it’s almost hard to reckon with the fact he ever existed, as his icon-like status practically overwhelms the actual person; the image of John with long hair and granny glasses, or Beatlemania John, or moustachioed Sgt. Pepper John, or 1980 New York City John is as ingrained in the public’s consciousness as the likes of Abraham Lincoln, Charlie Chaplin, Bob Marley or - dare I say it - Adolf Hitler. John's infamous “We’re more popular than Jesus now” mid-60s comment has an unexpectedly canny after-taste, which his untimely death only served to reiterate; nearly wiping out his more unpleasant characteristics in favour of an elevated, whitewashed version. It may be different if you’re older than me or you ever saw him in person, but it has always felt strange to have b...

It’s hard to fathom it, but Paul Daniels appearance at Mostly Comedy was two years ago today. Nothing will ever top that gig for me. We’ve been fortunate to play host to some truly fantastic acts in our nine years, but when your childhood hero performs at your club and you get to spend a good few hours in his company, you have to sit up and take note. I can clearly remember the huge smile that crossed my face when I walked down to the venue, knowing what was ahead  “I’m just going to enjoy today”, I thought to myself, and enjoy it I did. I met Glyn this evening to discuss our plans for our two shows this week, and the subject of our Daniels-iversary inevitably came up; it was a benchmark for the both of us. We also talked about how pleased we are about Debbie McGee’s reinvigorated popularity as a result of her clearly knocking Strictly out of the park (despite ending up in tonight’s dance-off). At risk of feeding the cliché, she really is lovely and deserves to be ce...

I’ve been married for three years today; what are you going to do about it, eh? We’ve marked the anniversary by staying in the same hotel we visited for our second one that’s practically in the same postcode to where we live, which made me feel very suspicious when I arrived alone this afternoon. It felt like I was here for some kind of extra-marital liaison, particularly as I turned up in a taxi with my luggage in a plastic bag - classy - and had to give my wife’s name instead of my own, as the room was booked by her, which somehow compounded the sense of subterfuge; I may as well have said it was reserved under John Smith. As I got here a couple of hours earlier, I took the opportunity to quickly run my show as it stands, as I haven’t had time to do it for the last few days and I didn’t want Sunday’s gig in Cambridge to be too much of a shock. It went well, but was a little rushed, which gave me a slight feeling of panic, when I haven’t got long ...

I’ve noticed #DisneylandParis25 is trending as a sponsored hashtag on Twitter to mark the park's twenty-fifth anniversary; I was there for its first birthday: I’m older than Steamboat Willie. I remember three things predominantly about that holiday: (1) it rained a lot, (2) my mum wouldn’t go on any ride except The Adventures of Peter Pan (which was the tamest option there, save a park bench on Main Street), and (3) my dad and I kept going on the Haunted Mansion repeatedly every day because it was great. People might knock Euro Disney, particularly in its early days when it was a lot more basic, but I loved it. I was so excited to be there, having always wanted to go to Disneyland as a kid. There was no way the bad weather (or the fact it was in France) was going to ruin it for me. It’s testament to how much I’d wanted to go that so much of it is still so vivid in my head; it was my first experience of a theme park and was a pretty good initiat...

Tonight, I’m staying in a hotel with practically the same postcode as my flat, to mark my second wedding anniversary. I should clarify that I’m not here on my own; my wife's with me too. It’s a nice, reasonably high-end place (despite being a Travelodge in a past life) with a generous balcony and some well-stocked tea and coffee-making facilities. It even has a walk-in wardrobe, in the sense that you could step in there should you so choose to, but you wouldn’t want to hang about. It’s good to have a break from home. The only frustrating thing was we checked into our room five hours after it was available, because I had work to do for tomorrow and Saturday’s shows. I didn’t like being in my office, knowing I could have been in a nice hotel room that we’d paid for to have a little time to ourselves. This was unavoidable though, as the more I got done today, the better-prepared I’ll be tomorrow. I’m very tired this evening, thanks to a late finish after last night’s gi...

Today is my two-year daily blog-erversary. Celebrate. Since the 17 th September 2013, I’ve written something for every day. Well, that’s not strictly true: every day bar four . I think I can let this discrepancy slide, as missing four out of seven hundred and thirty consecutive days is still an achievement. (I’ll probably post a few extra blogs before the year is through, to quell my OCD.) For someone with a propensity for giving in, I’m proud I’ve seen it through. It hasn’t been easy. Some days, as ridiculous as it may sound, it’s a weight around my neck. If I haven’t written by a certain time, I get very stressed. Occasionally - in fact frequently - I have nothing to say. I’ll stare at a blank page not knowing how to fill it. Then a picture, tweet or a fleeting thought comes to me, I’ll spin it out and another day is done. So, don’t expect every blog to be top quality. Other days, I’ve really enjoyed it. It’s been the catalyst fo...

I’ve been with my wife for ten years this month. This doesn’t seem possible. Has time flown by that quickly? It seems like only yesterday that we went out on our first date. If it wasn't yesterday, it was the day before at least. It can’t be a decade ago. I wasn’t alive then. Did somebody move Christ’s birthdate? While we’ve been in a relationship for ten years, we’ve been married for less than one. Our anniversaries in complete disarray. I don’t know how to chart them. Official documentation suggests we've been together seven months. Our eleventh anniversary will be Cotton or Tin, depending on how you look at it. If I analysed this too much, I’d never leave the house. However long it’s been, it's not been long enough. Meeting my wife was the best thing that happened to me. Making her my wife was the second best. That doesn’t mean she didn’t have a choice. (Feel free to reach for the sick bu...