Well. Here we are.
The Good Lady sat across from me at the dining table where I was attempting to read a book on my Kindle.
Rhmm.
I responded as cheerily as I could as the tail end of the Hogmanay whisky fought its way through my body.
As charming as ever my sweet. I am sure we will have yet another happy year this new year.
She blew me a kiss in the same way she would to a drowning man who hadn't wiped his feet before entering the house.
Huurrrmpph.
I lifted my Kindle up but for once I lamented the lack of bookish cover that such electronic devices offered. Had it been a mighty hardback, I am pretty sure I could have raised it like the front of a snowplough and blocked my lady wife out.
Alas no, she continued to speak.
And so, it is the first day of the New Year. Tell me my sweet, what do you hope it will bring?
She smiled, croc-like, her eyes never blinking.
I waited for a moment before answering, wondering if one of those little birds would land on one of her teeth and peck some scraps out for itself.
Erm, I dunno. Something good?
With an inward sigh, I put my Kindle down. I knew that once one of these conversations got started there would be no peace. Not until our relationship lay in burning ruins around us because like a shitty understudy covering for a sick theatre star, I just didn't know my lines.
Something good? Oh come now, Daddy-Bear. You must have something better than that in there?
She pointed playfully at my chest in which my seemingly coal-black heart resided.
Alright then. I suppose I can think of something... Oh, I know, I want to master the modes! That will do me nicely. This year I will master the modes!
I attempted to give myself a clap on the back and contemplated running a victory lap around the room.
Until I caught sight of the Good Lady's face which was neither clapping nor running in victory circles.
The Modes?
Somehow her voice in its contempt managed to correctly capitalise the words she uttered.
Yeah, you know. The Modes!
I chuckled and pulled forth my imaginary '86 Ibanez* and twiddled a lick like Bill and Ted having a most excellent adventure before they got old and not funny. What in the living fuck are the Modes dear husband? The Good Lady raised herself into a half-standing position as if she were laying a long brown log and it wasn't breaking off but just coiling away beneath her like fetid rope. She's pretending she doesn't know what the Modes are! I remarked to the room in general which unlike me stayed wisely silent. Before she could leap at me and tear my throat out or finish her shit (yes, her expression was that ambiguous) I continued. It's this guitar thing where you start a scale not on its root note and it becomes a different beast entirely. Like if you started a C Major scale on the D then it would be the Dorian Mode. Maybe. I am not sure but this year... This year will be the year I crack the modes! I clenched and pumped a fist as if milking a bulging uddered lady cow above me. And that is it? What about, spending more time together as a family? What about, creating more memories as a family? Listening more to each other and loving one another? Anything like that? If the Good Lady had fur, it would have been standing on end and her tail would be looking like a toilet brush. What? What a load of hippy shite that would be? Why would I need that shite if I had MASTERED THE MODES! Again I did the finger licky trill of Bill & Ted fame. The Good Lady stood to her full furious height of 5 foot 6. She always claimed it was 5 foot 8 but it couldn't be because that would mean that I wasn't 6 foot. I am glad to hear you have such high hopes for the family in the year ahead. Her voice was so icy that you could have fitted her to a Fridge door and she could shit out ice cubes into a glass on demand. Who needs family when you have mastered the MODES baby! I grinned. She did not. Happy New Year. She hissed and huffed off. I frowned after her. I was renowned for my detectivity skills and they were tingling now. Was she upset about something? Nah, probably just excited for me. I called out after her retreating back. Happy New Year!
*That would be the 86 Ibanez that although imaginary was entirely based upon my real '86 Ibanez which sadly needed fixed because I took a mad turn one day and put some really heavy strings on it which messed up the Bridge and the neck and left me wondering how there could ever be a God in which the world in which we lived was full of such pain and horror
weedly weedly weee! Admit it, you can hear it in your head.