mostly david ephgrave

I was sad to hear of the death of Burt Bacharach last week. There's little I can say about his music that someone else won't have said before, and no doubt better. To have had a career that spans so many decades is already extraordinary before you even consider the number of songs he wrote and how many live rent-free in the public consciousness. Even his simpler songs, such as Baby It's You or Magic Moments, have a depth that betrays their simplicity; listen to John Lennon's rendition of the former on The Beatles' first album, Please Please Me, and its hits you straight in the heart. Who cares that he was a twenty-two-year-old singing through a cold that day? The emotional pull of his vocal still gets you. It's no wonder that Bacharach started his career as a jazz pianist. So many of his songs achieve the feat of sounding both musically intricate and effortless. Dropped beats and unusual chords abound without confusing the ear or throwing you off. It's class...

Due to a frame-based malfunction, my sunglasses are currently being held together by electrical tape. This makes me feel like a light-sensitive Jack Duckworth. It was while walking home from setting up Thursday’s Mostly Comedy that I noticed something wasn't right. My glasses felt abnormal on my face. On closer inspection, I discovered that the frames had snapped at the bridge; as far as specs go, this was pretty calamitous. I got them out of my bag later on, to show Glyn the damage, to find that one of the lenses had fallen out completely. They'd morphed from a protective eye-shield to a comedy prop in a matter of minutes. They're not my main pair to be fair, though sadly, these are also out of service. A screw fell out during my honeymoon and I've yet to replace it. The snapped ones were bought from a market stall mere metres from the incident, so considering their price they've had a good innings. It's still disappointin...

As I hurtled towards Marco Polo Airport by speedboat this morning, I felt like James Bond.  Admittedly, Bond would have been behind the wheel himself. He'd be surrounded by a fleet of water-skiing Russians and under a barrage of machine gun fire. He'd be brandishing a weapon too, making quips to an imaginary audience each time he successfully shot an enemy. In truth, I differed from Ian Fleming's creation in every way, except for being on a speedboat. Still, one out of four wasn't bad.  It certainly was the best way to leave Venice. Actually, it's one of the only ways you can. This didn't matter. I was pleased to be leaving the water-locked city in style.  I felt like a Bullseye contestant on their maiden voyage, with a Bendy Bully in one hand and a wad of freshly-counted cash in their back pocket; like a spaniel with his head out of the window of a speeding car, ears and tongue flapping in the breeze; like Prince Char...

In the six days I've been in Venice, I've not seen a single supermarket. You're fine if you're after a Commedia dell'arte mask, a Murano glass ornament, or a snow globe of a gondolier - but if you're looking for groceries, you'll be sorely disappointed. It actually doesnt have to be a supermarket. Any shop that sells food basics would do. I'm not out to buy a fake Gucci handbag (which, bizarrely, you can pick up right outside the Gucci shop), but stuff one with cakes and biscuits and you might rouse my interest. If we'd been here for five days as we'd originally planned, it wouldn't be a problem. Thanks to EasyJet, our honeymoon was extended by two nights. Consequently, we've now reached the point where, given the choice, we'd much rather fend for ourselves. I don't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, so don't make me. The restaurants here are lovely. I'm a big fan of Italian food. I also like variety. Venice i...

I'm hot. I'm very, very hot. I wasn't too bad until lunchtime. Then I ordered a margarita pizza. This was the tipping point. Ever since then I've been bearing the brunt. This morning we walked to the Rialto Bridge. We crossed to the other side (not in a dying sense), where we found a small market, full of fresh fish, fruit and other fings beginning with F. After stopping in a café (where I ordered my soon-to-be-regretted pizza), we decided to head back to the hotel; it was just too hot to stay out. Seeing the bridge reminded me that I once drew a picture of it as a kid. I'm not sure what spurred me to do this; perhaps it was just after my childhood holiday to Italy. It wasn't particularly accurate - I seem to remember adding a token Leaning Tower of Pisa behind it - but all-in-all, if wasn't a bad likeness. Today, I just took a photograph. It's much less effort.

I've come to the conclusion that Venice is v. nice. Last night, we went for a lovely al fresco meal by one of the city's many canals. While we ate, a little girl sitting at the table next to us threw chunks of bread into the water, which were instantly engulfed by a swarm of fish. It would have been sinister if it wasn't for the picturesque setting. I was tucking into a plate of sea bass at the time, anyway, so I had the upper hand. The hotel is ridiculously plush. Our room is like a small flat. I happened to mention we were on our honeymoon on checking in. Within minutes, they'd brought us a bottle of champagne and some fruit. I should get married more often (or say I have, at least). In the night, I was woken by the sound of thunder. It was very dramatic. Yet there was no evidence of the heavy downpour by morning; one of the plus points of being in such a hot climate, I guess. Today I have been mostly walking, with a little sitting, eating and drinking thro...

Today's blog was written in the sky.  I'm in a plane, not up a ladder, on my way to Venice for my honeymoon.  I've been looking forward to it. Although, at the same time I haven't; with all the wedding excitement, I'd almost forgotten I was going, so the holiday feels like a welcome surprise.  This isn't my first trip to Venice. I went with my parents in the late Eighties. Despite being seven or eight at the time, I still remember it vividly. I guess this is because the city is so distinctive; there aren't many holiday destinations built almost entirely on or in water (except for the City of Atlantis, which doesn't really count).  I remember travelling by gondola. I also recall posing for the photograph below.  We were standing in St Mark's Square, where I'd just watched the little mechanical people who lived in the clock tower make their way out as it struck the hour. Round my neck is a toy camera, full of slides of famous I...