mostly david ephgrave

A ten-year-old child has no right to look this passionate with a guitar.  What makes it worse is that ten-year-old is me . What makes it worse still, is I’m not even playing the thing; I’m just holding it. My left hand isn’t fingering a chord or knocking out a solo, it’s resting on top of the strings. To top the situation off, I’m wearing my school uniform, clutching a guitar bought in Argos. There’s nothing rock ‘n’ roll about this photograph; it’s just a junior school kid posing with his dad’s acoustic in the dining room, with a 12-inch copy of Chesney Hawkes’ The One and Only visible in the background. If anything, it’s anti-cool.    To be fair to myself, I played a little bit of guitar back then. The only problem was I didn’t know how to tune it. I’d accidentally stumbled across a slide tuning where the open strings would sound as a major chord, and would move a barred finger up and down the fretboard as I sang my own primitiv...

It was the moment my wedding ring fell off my finger and rolled into the seating area of my local Argos Collection Point, as I tried to fit an iron into a plastic bag that was today’s personal low point. I brought it on myself in a way. The woman at the counter had offered me an in-house bag but I'd declined it, in favour of the Wilkinson carrier I was...carrying. I didn’t foresee a problem. There wasn't a lot of shopping in it and the iron wasn’t big. I was doing my bit for the environment in my own negligible way. What I did for the planet did nothing for my self-esteem: the bag split and I nearly lost a valuable piece of jewellery in the process; none of that Elizabeth Duke shit. Why didn’t I anticipate this chain of events? Mishaps stalk me constantly. I had hoped Argos would be safe haven – I used to work there – but it wasn’t. My predisposition for slapstick can’t be fought . I’m a modern-day Norman Wisdom, only taller, less successful and ...

I’m bracing myself for the ultimate adrenalin rush, which is heading my way before the day is through. I don’t want to tempt fate, or set myself up for a potential fall – but tonight could be the best night of my life. Why? Because in a couple of hours, I’m picking up a Vax S-7-8 Total Home Master Steam Mop from Argos. (You don’t even have to say a word for me to know you’re envious.) Look at it, the sexy beast. Imagine holding it in your grasp. Think of the satisfaction as it slides across your floor. That, my friend, is what it’s all about. There is a chance I’m setting the bar too high. Can a household implement live up to such unreachable expectations? Of course it can; it’s got the words ‘total’ and ‘master’ in its name. How can it fail? It’s also taken the world of social media by storm. A thousand people have liked the Vax S-7-8 Total Home Master Mop on Facebook; you can’t fault the statistics. Try to visualize...

I’m currently in the awkward position of owning a bag that’s only just big enough for the job. I am a fully paid-up member of the Man-Bag Brigade; at least a decade’s worth of faithful service and proud of it. For me, a satchel is a necessity: I carry my laptop most days, so I can write on the go – plus there’s often a newspaper, wallet and umbrella to add to proceedings (weather-dependent). No unsightly bulging pockets for me.  I f I don’t have a bag, I can't really manage. My previous bag met a sticky end in public. I was doing a bit of shopping when, all of a sudden, the zip decided to jam open. Some zip-jams can be fixed with a little aggressive tugging. Not this one: I yanked it hard and it came right off in my hand. (Your Honour.) Right on cue, it started to rain. I ran into the nearest coffee shop (‘run’ being an exaggeration) – and thanks to the help of (1) my laptop, and (2) a bit of free Wi-Fi, I was browsing the Argos website in minutes. ...