mostly david ephgrave

The weatherman on BBC Breakfast this morning said, "Today there'll be a bit more in the way of less cold air" and now I need a piece of graph paper to work that out. The double negatives in action were on a par with Pink Floyd's "We don't need no education" for sounding solid, while bearing no scrutiny; so much so, I didn't know whether to wear my scarf or not. Consequently, the guy's attempt to impart the weather was a resounding failure; he may as well have said, "Tonight will have a lot less not daylight than today has not." I can't begrudge the odd mental stumble or brain-fart when it happens to the best of us; life's by it nature very confusing. Here are just a few times the planet's perplexed me: Hearing a saxophonist play 'Baker Street' at Leicester Square tube. Spotting a picture of Elvis in the window of Boys 2 Men Barbers on Stevenage High Street. Hearing a woman scream, "Where's the bus?...

Last night I dreamt Ray Winstone gave me a lift to Hitchin, though we took a wrong turn and ended up driving along a railway track, unable to find a safe exit. At least I think it was a dream; maybe it really happened, though if it did I’m not sure how I got home as the last thing I recall is us speeding down the railway with Winstone getting progressively anxious. I don’t know why I was in a car with him as just prior to realising he was at the wheel, I was leaving my office, which had somehow grown bigger and had my actor friend Adam Astill working in it; the more I think about it, the more sure I am that it was all the work of my subconscious. It makes me wonder why my brain decided to mash such a load of nonsense together and why I didn’t work out at the time that it couldn’t be real; I’m pretty sure I’ve never shared a car with Ray Winstone, and Adam’s never been in my office, though I did spot him walking down the road from it the other day (though I saw him too late to say...

Today, a guy looked so furiously at me while I was taking this photograph. The reason I took it was I thought it looked like a ‘Bring Your Kids to Work Day’, but he clearly didn’t like not knowing the reason why I was taking it; he looked from me to the cones then back at me again as if I was weird, or at the very least like needed to justify my intentions; it’s the kind of face I’ve grown to expect after years of taking random pictures to use for material, and an expression I could really do with removing from my life. The point is, I shouldn’t have to explain what I’m doing to anyone in this situation, unless what I’m doing is intrusive on inappropriate. When I do this sort of thing, I’m always discreet, but that doesn’t stop people from having a really long hard good look at the subject of my photographs, without any attempt to hide their confusion; I thought British people were supposed to be polite and go out of our way not to make a sce...

I bet you didn't start your day by being threatened by a man from Scottish Gas. At just after 9 o’clock, I lifted the receiver on the security door at my digs to answer the doorbell. “Hello?” I said. Nothing. “Hello?” I repeated. Still nothing. I would have hung up, but as I missed the post the other day, I thought I’d take the risk and buzz the culprit in. A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. I opened it, to reveal a guy in blue overalls on the other side. “I’m here from Scottish Gas and I need to change your meter.” I started trying to explain to him that I wasn’t the long-term tenant or the property owner and therefore couldn’t authorise the work, when he spotted the meter above me in the hallway. Before I could finish my sentence, he’d crossed the threshold without my permission and was inside the flat. He told me that if I didn't let him do the work, he’d call the police. I explained ...

For some reason I'm never able to make people understand what I’m saying. It happens all the time, so much so that I’ve started to account for it. I’ll walk into a situation with a readily-prepared statement in my head – and consciously take my time when saying it; trying to allow for the inevitable confusion that follows in my wake. Even all this forward-thinking doesn’t seem to help; more often than not, I still end up with conversational egg all over my face. It occurs most frequently in bars and restaurants. A good example took place a couple of months ago. I’d met up with a friend in a local pub - and, as I’m generally not drinking alcohol at the moment, I decided to have a hot drink instead. I walked up to the side of the bar where the coffee machine was situated. Behind it stood a big sign that said ‘Speciality Teas Available’. I’m a bit of a herbal tea nut, so this was right up my street. A surly, monosyllabic barm...

Anyone who follows me on Twitter will probably have noticed that I have a bit of a fascination for overhearing snippets of conversation. There’s nothing voyeuristic about it. I’m not snooping. I just enjoy the confusion that often comes with hearing a statement entirely out of context.  For a split second you are let into someone else’s world – and just as you’re getting comfortable, the door slams shut, with you left on the outside, trying to suss out the circumstances. The best ones often involve mobile phones. Hearing just one side of the conversation only adds to the confusion. Sometimes, you are left intrigued: ...and other times, the mundanity captures your imagination: One thing all these overheard conversations serve to illustrate is: none of us know what we're doing. We all stumble our way amateurishly through life, trying to make the best of our circumstances. Nothing is rehearsed, and as...