Hello hello hello. What's going on here then?
The Good Lady popped her thumbs in imaginary lapels and did her best to look like a London Policeman of yesteryear.
I looked up and giggled, glad that she was doing an impression of a Copper from yesteryear and not going down the more contemporary route of tear-gassing me and shooting me in the back when I fell down.
I'm setting up my phone to record a bit of guitar video.
I waggled my phone at her as if it were a bunch of freshly pulled carrots and I a farmer with a gleam in his eye.
What for?
The Good Lady took a seat and nodded at me to go on. She looked to be quite interested which was nice because normally she screams and claws at her face when I start playing or talking about guitar.
Well, you know I write things for my blog on Hive? I was thinking of maybe doing a guitar series. A sort of how-to with a bit of humour.
I plucked a note on my guitar and let it waaaaahhh into silence before continuing.
The thing is, I remember how many mistakes I made when I started playing and it would be nice to help others not make those mistakes.
I plucked a few chords and made a wanking face in the way that all guitarists of note do.
As the chords rang out I noticed that it had become very quiet.
Very quiet indeed.
I filled the silence with a little solo ending on a tremendous bend of the strings and more wank-style face.
Pausing in the guitar wankery, I carried on explaining my vision to the Good Lady.
A series on guitar and how to play and the pitfalls to avoid. Should I pitch it at beginners? Probably. I wasn't that amazing after all.
I did like to think I was ok though.
As I told the Good Lady of the things I hoped to achieve I simultaneously thought how lucky I was to have a woman that was so on my side. So understanding and appreciative of my hobbies.
So supportive.
That's odd. It was bloody quiet in here?
I realised I had been talking a good length of time and looked up to see if the Good Lady had any questions.
Oh.
Where she had been a desiccated corpse now sat, even as I looked at it a draught of air from the open back door wafted against it causing it to crumble into a cloud of fine dust leaving only a few mouldering bones to clatter on to the floor.
Hmm, fuck it. So much for that idea then.