mostly david ephgrave

There's nothing like walking your dog through the most affluent part of town - past mini-mansion after mini-mansion - whilst squeezed into a jacket you've outgrown due to recent weight-gain and can't afford to replace, for firmly putting you in your place. (Poet.) (Don't know it.) To do this was the psychological equivalent to spending the morning underlining the words 'you're a shitshow' in red pen. Being out with the dog was pleasant - it always is - but when you're in an area that's drastically at odds with your current financial situation you can't help but feel fraudulent, like a toddler clambering about in their parents' shoes, pretending to be an adult. It didn't help that I had a letter this morning summarising last year's earnings that practically blew a raspberry at me as I opened it. The fact my clothes barely fit and I spend much of my time juggling next-to-no money about only compounds this. Consequently, I found ...

I’d like to live in a world where my bag isn’t just big enough to fit the things I need to carry in it, provided I don’t want to take anything out at any point. It’s the ultimate status-lowerer. It’s intensely frustrating. Filling it is akin to a game of Tetris; there’s a very specific method to take, and Lord help you, should you attempt to deviate from it. As soon as I’ve slid my laptop in (I say ‘slid’; it’s more of a fifteen-stage force), there’s scarcely room for anything else. I then squeeze in my umbrella, knowing there’ll be no hope of extricating it quickly in the case of a sudden downpour. It would be easier getting it out if it was encased in concrete. (I exaggerate for borderline comedic effect). The simple answer to my problem would be to buy a new one. This relies on me having the funds to do it. I bought this one in a state of emergency and haven’t yet had the requisite cash to replace it. Such is the life of a professional actor / comedian / pauper. ...