I enter the house.<\/p>\n
Alone.<\/p>\n
I stand inside the front door listening to the quiet.<\/p>\n
It somehow seems illicit to be here.<\/p>\n
I breathe softly\u00a0as if I’m in the act of committing a crime.<\/p>\n
The house smells clean and fresh but the roar of the quietness is almost overwhelming.<\/p>\n
I peer in to the lounge, it’s immaculate\u00a0– looks like a magazine cover.<\/p>\n
I check my watch but I don’t need to – I’m in the house by myself and I know I won’t be disturbed.<\/p>\n
So I do the inevitable.<\/p>\n
I do what every man in my position would do.<\/p>\n
Grinning\u00a0like a loon I climb the stairs.<\/p>\n
I can feel my heart pumping with the excitement, the naughtiness<\/em>, the thrill<\/em>.<\/p>\n I walk quietly across the landing\u00a0to our bedroom.<\/p>\n I sit on the bed and fumble for the zipper<\/p>\n My fingers – trembling slightly\u00a0in anticipation – find the zipper tab and ease it down.<\/p>\n I sigh with bliss as I slide my hand carefully inside.<\/p>\n It’s there, so smooth yet so firm to the touch.<\/p>\n I take hold of the neck, tenderly yet securely.<\/p>\n I relish the grip, flex it gently; love the feel of holding it in my hands.<\/p>\n Almost\u00a0get a\u00a0sense of power from it.<\/p>\n I rearrange myself on the bed.<\/p>\n And when I’m comfortable and I’m sure the moment is right…<\/p>\n I let rip.<\/p>\n KERRRAAAAAANG!<\/em><\/p>\n God I love the way that D-Sus-4 chord sounds on my slightly detuned guitar.<\/p>\n D-Sus-4 to G4 to Em to warm up and then suddenly I’m off and running.<\/p>\n Brown Eyed Girl.<\/p>\n Followed by Wild Thing.<\/p>\n And then onwards, deeper in to my repertoire.<\/p>\n Forty minutes later I put the guitar away, fingertips tender but not sore.<\/p>\n I’ve ripped my thumbnail while overextending for a hurried change.<\/p>\n I’d started off hard and fast and then gradually slowed as my dexterity improved.<\/p>\n The slower passages were harder to begin with\u00c2\u00a0but as my slightly rusty ability returned, so did my confidence.<\/p>\n And now I feel wonderful tonight.<\/p>\n Just like Eric Clapton.<\/p>\n B<\/em><\/strong>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I enter the house. Alone. I stand inside the front door listening to the quiet. It somehow seems illicit to be here. I breathe softly\u00a0as<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":13,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-175","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-stuff","two-columns"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/brennigjones.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/175","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/brennigjones.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/brennigjones.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/brennigjones.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/13"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/brennigjones.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=175"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/brennigjones.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/175\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/brennigjones.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=175"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/brennigjones.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=175"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/brennigjones.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=175"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}