mostly david ephgrave

Sometimes, you'll write something down quickly without considering how it might be interpreted out of context. My favourite example of this was spotted a few years back, whilst flicking through Glyn’s diary. (He’d authorized my browsing by the way. I wasn’t being nosy.) We were in the midst of planning a rehearsal schedule, when he asked me to crosscheck some dates in his diary while he popped to the loo. As I leafed through the pages, my eyes were drawn to a fortnight in July that was blank except for one entry: ‘Cock Fun Day’. I felt the blind panic of a man who’d stumbled across something he wasn’t meant to see. The mental image those three words painted was horrendous. Setting aside time for yourself was all well and good, but this was ridiculous. What the Hell was Cock Fun Day? The mind boggled. Was it an annual event? Whatever it was, it warranted its own title, plus a clearing of the diary for a week either side of it. When I questioned him on the subject...