Fubar isn`t religious, but he has always rather liked the Catholic idea of confession. Every week good Catholics sit in a dark little box and confess their sins to a priest. He hands out punishments (prayers to say, usually). As long as the sins are not too big, they are forgiven and can go off and have another six days of fun before their next confession....

Now there is nothing quite like an exploding wife to ruin a chap`s day. Imagine the scene - it`s a warm spring evening, all`s well with the world, you`ve just had a spot of rather good sushi and are thoughtfully eyeing that third flask of sake - and "VA BOOM!" the wife goes and explodes.... Suddenly, out of no-where, she is mad as hell and you have not the faintest clue why.

Several days later, you finally find out. Something you did AGES ago that she didn`t like, but didn`t mention at the time, perhaps. Or just some small personal habit that has annoyed her since you married. Or a deeper worry, about money, or your life togther. She doesn`t say anything until the pressure built up to intolerable levels and then BAM! Your very own kitchen sized Mount Aso, complete with lava on the ceiling....

It`s certainly spectacular, but rather trying on the nerves. How do you stop it?

Internalise this now: it is YOUR responsibility to find out, on a day to day basis, what your wife is worried or cross with you about. You can`t rely on her to tell you before it reaches crisis point. You must take the initiative.

This isn`t easy; you need a strategy. Here is what Fubar does. Every Sunday night he runs the bath, lights a few candles, grabs the wife and a bottle of wine and we have a bath together. (If she`s light enough, the best way is her sitting on your lap, facing you, with your arms around her. She feels safe and secure... Don`t try this with a western girl, they are too heavy...)

It`s a kind of "reverse confession". Fubar: "So, what annoying things have I done in the past week?" Standard reply: "Don`t you know? You should know!" Fubar: (Knowing he must confess something small to get her started... ) "I`m sorry, I forgot to take the gomi out...". Her, happily: "Yes! You are bastard! And ... and ... and .... and .... ".

Now, tell me ladies, what does a girl enjoy most? The feel of her man`s bonus in her delicate pretty hand? Silk lingerie? A trip to the aesthetic salon? Really, really, good Noh? Why, fleeting pleasures all compared to that greatest of all feminine joys, telling a lover, in detail, exactly what his faults are...

So Fubar settles back in the warm water as the candles flicker, drinks his wine, and listens with at least half an ear as she slowly, enjoyably, lets of steam, catalogs his sins and pours out her worries. And at the end, since she now feels slightly guilty, Fubar himself can mention, just en passant of course, anything about her that is irritating him...

Communication is difficult. Across a cultural divide, you really have to work at it.

Still, I sometimes rather miss the explosions!®