My Diary: Is Dog An Astronaut?

The last of my long days in the garden:‭ ‬June was back at work and left the house early as a sequence of numbers which she hoped will be repeated in reverse when she returned.‭ ‬I had dreamt that the lady at the bottom of the road had recited a spell and every living thing could now talk‭; ‬unfortunately when I went outside everything was silent‭ ‬-‭ ‬and remained so even when I cut the grass.‭ ‬Maybe there is a world where the grass cuts humans‭; ‬in which case I hope I find myself in a genteel compost heap,‭ ‬away from the bright green rabble.‭ ‬I laughed at my own jokes as a relatively small lump of earth floated overhead,‭ ‬I was pleased it already had a small tree growing in it.‭ ‬June came home in time to watch the christening of a new space crossbow‭; ‬from this I will explore the universe.

My Diary: Playing With The Fire And Water Children

June and I waited in the bow of ship partly submerged in sand‭; ‬in the distance a Kraken was regrowing from the tip of its own tentacles.‭ ‬The little Vikings came with their long boats in their hands‭; ‬I asked if they had got their own sand yet and we then walked to town to eat and play:‭ ‬we ate under a banyan tree‭ (‬along with a group of quite plump people‭) ‬and then played on the flat and gasping tongue of a dragon‭ ‬-‭ ‬luckily I had a drink in my bag and church bells rang as I opened the top.‭ ‬We all walked home in the footprints of a herd of small dinosaurs‭; ‬I felt confident I could name my steps after the Kings and Queens of England but only impressed myself and the old man playing a grand piano with his teeth who was ambling along behind with the trailing edge of his coat on fire.

My Diary: My Prehistoric Self Portrait

I got up,‭ ‬ignoring the figure with old newspapers for hair and made myself a breakfast of Celtic field patterns.‭ ‬June was munching on the side of a small boat,‭ ‬purportedly made from toothpicks by a French prisoner during the Napoleonic wars.‭ ‬We went out for dinner after I had planted more miniature soldiers‭ ‬-‭ ‬remembering that the soil has to have the appropriate spent cordite and shrapnel content.‭ ‬I came home after dinner leaving June berthed at Long Beach,‭ ‬California.‭ ‬I then played more war games with botanical specimens‭ ‬-‭ ‬sadly neither side could claim victory.‭ ‬When June was ready to come home I walked to town again with a fragment of the Wansdyke earthworks on my forehead.‭ ‬As expected a group of ramblers came up and insisted on walking along it.

My Diary: A God In A Bottle

I had to go to town,‭ ‬after putting it off all week,‭ ‬pulling small red worms out of the burgundy carpet in one shop and bent nails out of strips of clenched wood in another.‭ ‬A classical sculpture gave me the only leaf it had and I unceremoniously gave it to the rabbit when I got back home, along with‭ ‬messages from various museum specimens in their serried rows of glass jars.‭ ‬I was tempted to call the jars a glass orchestra and then compose a piece of music to represent the result of the Permian extinction as written on an old wall in Olympus‭ ‬-‭ ‬this would have been built just before the gods had discovered religion.‭ ‬I then made the silhouette of a crying nun with my hands in front of another wall and subsequently cheered her up again with the fluttering shadow of a peacock butterfly.

My Diary: Gardening In A Desert

It rained today and I smeared mud on a glass pane and waited for the inevitable faces to emerge and then busied myself potting plants on an old table.‭ ‬In an unashamedly black mood I imagined the table being used in the past for dissections and midnight autopsies and pretended to map out the lives of unknown organisms with pieces of coloured string.‭ ‬Then as the grey clouds parted I saw the rain forest on a sheet of wood followed by a blinding white light which I suspect was caused by several people simultaneously having the same thought.‭ ‬June came home later than expected after having begged a lift from Gary Cooper who had ridden out of town two minutes before midday.‭ ‬I heard the train arrive and then walked the dog along the railway line before a later than usual dinner.

My Diary: My Mind Is A Wall That Even I Can’t Scale

I settled back to a week of working in the garden,‭ ‬after having spent the night on an ironing board with the hot iron balanced over my chest like a Sword of Damocles‭ ‬-‭ ‬unfortunately Alexander the Great muddled up legends and cut the knot and I spent the rest of the day with a Romanesque arch in the middle of my torso.‭ ‬As the light faded bats issued forth although if I had been writing the story a pale figure would have looked out instead and sighed as a man in white armour flew off in a chariot pulled by swans.‭ ‬June came in tired and we made dinner between us from fireworks that hadn’t gone off and champagne bottles that had rebounded from the ship’s hull unbroken.‭ ‬I didn’t tell her that I now call the garden the Field of the Cloth of Gold and made all hoverflies and solitary bees princes and kings.‭

My Diary: The Old Man And Me Are Both Made Of String

I had to go out,‭ ‬catching a dagger blade as it had just left the hilt and following it to a wound on a lying figure‭; ‬luckily it was only superficial and I came home in a small red bus with giant black wings.‭ ‬I thought if I was in space it would look like a ladybird.‭ ‬I had found the old king in his court winding up lengths of time as if they were merely twine‭ ‬-‭ ‬I took a ball home with me and plan to tie up my own thoughts with it at some point.‭ ‬I went out into the royal garden and did a short shift as a shadow from a very old tree‭ ‬-‭ ‬the shadow itself was on respite,‭ ‬visiting the ruins of the palace of Thebes and paddling a box of thirty five millimetre slides up the Nile.‭ ‬When I got back home I returned to standing in the middle of a fence in lieu of the post.