So 2016 draws to a close, and what a year it’s been.
I’m not going to delve into the political upheaval of the past twelve months as, if I did, it would dominate this blog post and bring the mood down. I also won’t dwell on the sad loss of so many influential figures in the public eye; a list so long, it's very easy to miss people off.
On a personal level, the year has been mixed. The biggest step was taking my second solo show to my first solo Edinburgh Fringe. This was a huge leap of faith that was terrifying to comprehend as it drew closer, yet I came out the other side of that 24-date run largely unscathed, having genuinely enjoyed it. I can’t thank my wife and family enough for their unflinching support as I cycled in and out of confidence, and my friends (and Best Men) Glyn Doggett and Stephen Halliday for their advice, time and feedback; they’re all in my Last Will and Testament, though my estate is such that they won’t wind up with much.
Edinburgh wasn’t the only festival I encountered this year, having also taken shows to Bath and Brighton; I do love my alliterative gigs.
It hasn’t all been great. There were financial and health problems to face, that could have made it all grind to a halt. Again, my wife was my biggest support. I’m lucky to have her, and will rugby-tackle anyone who tries to take her away; I warn you, internet.
This year saw Doggett & Ephgrave’s club Mostly Comedy move to its fourth home - The Sun Hotel - to play host to thirty-three acts across thirteen dates. The roll call is ridiculous; see below for the list.
A lot of people find New Year depressing, but I don't. The fresh start may be arbitrary, but it’s easy to grasp. It’s a chance to wipe the slate clean. Here’s to 2017; let's hope Donald Trump doesn’t fuck it all up.