mostly david ephgrave

The best aspect of getting home late from a gig is the welcome I get from my cat. The fact her greeting is brought on less by affection and more by an insatiable stomach doesn't matter. It’s still nice to come back to. We’ve established a routine over the years. She’ll wait patiently for me at the other side of the living room door. No sooner have I opened it than she leads me into the kitchen. She’ll meow with intent as my inept fingers grapple with the packaging her treats are kept in, creating panic. Every second without food is a second wasted. Unless it’s spent sleeping. I make a cup of tea while she’s eating. My needs come second in the pecking order. She'll follow me into the front room and jump on my lap as I settle down with a book. A purry cat cuddle is great way to unwind. It’s cheaper than a crack habit. The time our routine was most beneficial was when I was in Dreamboats and Petticoats. My labyrinthitis rendered the run unenjoyable. It struck a week...