Well I would if I could

Packing stuff up in the storage cupboards and outdoor storage this afternoon. Duck my head out of the chill to brew a well earned cup of tea and Mrs S is calling me on Skype, having been out on the razzle with youngest. "Have you cleared the outside storage yet?" She asked in that pointed way of hers, wagging a mock admonitory screen finger at me.
"That's what I've been doing, just now, breaking stuff down for recycling." Spake I.
"You sure?" She asked. Mm-hm. My baby girl has been on the sauce methinks.
"Yes, what else would I be doing?" I said, feeling slightly miffed at the implied challenge to my integrity. It was only the lure of a hot cup of tea that drove me indoors. Mrs S is obviously missing my strong manly presence as this is the second call today, and as the first went on for an hour and a half, she's obviously bored. I'm not that interesting am I? To be honest, like most men I can't talk for hours in subtext alone. I need a hook to hang a conversation off, a subject, a purpose, or what's the point? When I want to ask a question I ask it straight out, not circle round the subject as though I'm not interested - then pounce.

Fortunately I was rescued by Youngest, who urged her Mother to close down and go to sleep as it was one in the morning UK time. Since Mrs S has been gone I reckon I've spent more time talking to her on Skype than we do at home. Something like three hours a day. It must be love.

Neighbours have invited me round for drinks and nibbles in their very plush waterfront pad next Sunday, so I will take a nice Argentinian Gamay Noir, which I must confess to being quite partial to, and make as much small talk as I am able. I have a Victoria Sponge cake to make for my friends at the Red Cross, and other dainties to prepare for various Christmas do's to which I've been invited.

Closer to the festering season, probably from the 20th onwards I shall be posting my favourite Christmas songs and their carolling equivalents where extant on Youtube. Those who are Xmas averse should have no qualms, as I'm also busy crafting a piece on hopefully amusing seasonal prejudices that would make the Grinch blanche and say "Steady on old thing, that's a bit strong." The big wuss.

Mrs S has demanded however that the 'pooter be left on all Christmas day with Skype running, the thought of which has me praying for power cuts and service outages. If I have to pull the plug out of the phone to get some respite; so be it. I shall be out fishing and the bloody phones can ring as much as they like. This is mutiny Cap'n, and I'm not fussy if everyone gets the hump at me. Stuff Turkey. Radish the sprouts, and deck your own flaming halls.