I had to count the number of rabbit ears I had grown during night before leaving the space warren with the interstellar dog. We walked round the edge of the known universe while shaking the hands that emerged from passing multicoloured clouds – I assumed the clouds were worn as hats by a race of beings much more advanced than us. After a dinner of tickets to a bootlegged concert by the BBC Symphony Orchestra I watered the runner beans that were growing on my head in lieu of hair – it took me some time to get a satisfactory legume parting but the final effect was well worth the effort, especially when a Hollywood film company decided to shoot their next all action thriller there – apparently the heroine is rescued by a man from a Martian penal colony.
I got up after the strangely clothed figure imprinted on the ceiling had climbed down the ladder I had placed against the Michelangelo wall (the ladder had been invented by Leonardo as a prototype sling shot for a family of stone frogs – several of which would later become cardinals) I walked to town in search of extraterrestrials – unfortunately all I found was an extinct species of hominid only three feet tall and already dreaming of the resurrection. I met June in town, she was wearing a skyscraper and I had to pretend to be King Kong; unfortunately the imminent approach of a squadron of small planes put me off and I climbed a Scots Pine instead, throwing down pine cones on the unsuspecting heads of a troupe of dancers from the Folies Bergere.
I started the day by removing a working steam engine from our gem encrusted picnic hamper – the engine arrived yesterday and the tracks pushed through the bedroom window like Achilles’s spear the day before. June and I had a picnic on a model railway before we suddenly shrunk and found ourselves inside two medicine bottles a man with a fake bow-tie was trying to sell to a group of Red Indians; it wasn’t long before he was found out and we had to run to town and back before the tie exploded and a bare female leg shot out of a red rose pinned to my lapel. I brought the rabbit back with me – he was still poorly and moped like an Ancient Greek hero with a penchant for cross dressing.
I started the grey day walking a circle in a pond; I found a ring from a Christmas cracker pulled by Alberich several years ago when I was the only walking tree still alive; I remember the Rhine Maiden decorations glistening in the eruption of Mount Vesuvius. June and I dragged horses tied to the feet of princesses from the quagmire and then waited for the water to rise above the saloon car a previous occupant had accidentally buried. I later changed into clothes made famous in the television series UFO and caught a Trans-Siberian express train to the top of the garden – the wildlife pond looked like a winking eye and the recently planted shrub garden was wearing its new hat at a particularly coquettish angle.
June and I got up like masking tape being peeled off a recently painted wall; I found a Spanish galleon in my hands and she found a family of mustelids (I don’t know what species). We met Diana on the cathedral train – she got out of her seat and crawled into the luggage rack; I crawled into a crisp packet and we were at our destination in no time (there were no clocks on the station). We walked to the city centre inside giant stockings, June’s were blue and mine a bright red – I had a pizza with a very hot topping and then climbed a fountain to find a very rare plant from the foothills in Chile. We looked at cityscapes as they slowly disintegrated into points of light; I commented on the small dragon advancing up the road but I don’t think anyone heard me.
A dark age early morning and I went out with full body armour and a bouquet of flowers. I saw the grand old man sitting in a chair modelled on the bust of Lenin; we talked of bees on flowers and flowers on the face of man. After clawing at a horizontal cliff face for a short while I caught the Hammer Horror traffic home. When I got in I found the dog had made a recliner chair out of a fold away ploughed field – I told her she needed more exercise and she told me to talk to the angel hanging from the redundant television aerial. June visited the dwarf’s house in the peel off forest; I listened to a family of mobile phones singing from a tree as I awaited her return – I saw her walking up the ancient roadway with the remnants of a bronze age pot.
June and I each became a lense of a pair of designer spectacles; after looking intently at a kind of breakfast we accompanied the dog to dog town to confer with dark wood elves in a papier mache palace (I am guessing it was papier mache it could have been a type of fungus previously unknown to science). We met a forest god and communed – the young girl at the window wore a blue dress with real clouds floating across it. We came home across a flower meadow in Antarctica and went out again almost immediately; I only had time to paste a welsh dresser across my finger nails in lieu of varnish. We ate a meal inside a bonfire called Joan of Arc and conversed with cognizant smoke; it recited a poem it had just written about water.