After an early morning swimming in a bowl of leek soup I had to stand as a sentry while the plastic soldiers massed below the parapet. I tried to remain as still as I could and watched the little trucks weave in and out. After lunch the worm people emerged from their holes to see what was going on. I turned over another page and found myself having dinner with a band of Spartan warriors. We came home late holding onto seaweed and tresses of dolls hair. I went to sleep in a wine glass.
I started the day as a red line in a green field, metamorphosing into a small voice residing at the bottom of a large box. My wife shook the box and I fell out among the grains of rice holding onto a cat whisker. Later I played against myself in the sports field, simultaneously winning and losing before walking to the arena where the lions were having singing lessons – the ten green bottle customers were falling as my wife rode by astride a dragon (I waved as the sperm whale dived). I came home wet.
I took the paper train to the countryside where ivy clad people clashed with those having holly hair. I was flannel man and worked in the rain. I had to saw up the remains of Noah’s Ark which we had discovered in the back garden just behind the giant tortoise that had held the world aloft. I came home in a cardboard tube but had to emerge quickly like a caddis fly who was late for a party. After a short spell on Easter Island I flew a flying saucer to the dinner table where it disappeared.
I had to make as many Plasticine crowns and sceptres as I could for the childhood coronation before riding a war chariot to the veterinary surgery. Having already surreptitiously stuffed a skull and crossbones down my trousers I blew a bugle and rushed into the room were the cannon ladies would take aim. After the battle I slunk home holding a child of King Kong and a cousin of a skyscraper, tied myself into a bow tie and got ready to perform in front of an audience of Antarctic pygmies.
June went out early, she travelled along a tube that pushed through the bedroom wall. I had a lay in after going to bed with a bulls head on my shoulders the night before. I finally got up when several meteorites smashed into the back garden waking the rabbit. I put on a model of a Sixties skyscraper instead of clothes and ate straw before the postman knocked on the door dressed like Achilles. I worked in my studio like a Trojan until June returned holding several pieces of string and a plastic penguin.
I woke up with large wings pinned on my shoulders as well as feeling slightly unwell. I had to pull myself though a tunnel made by glass marmalade jars and then an orange striped door before I could push a button in my studio. Unusually my studio was encased in marble with the shadows of classical sculptures showing outside. I called some lost names but no one answered. My friend the bird goddess disappeared today, I threw rose petals into the stream and called myself the flower portal.
I woke up tired holding an apple with an arrow in it. I put this on an ash tray last used by Winston Churchill and made rolling hills out of a paper handkerchief; I pictured sheep feeding in the distance on these and whispered something to myself. I then painted circles while June talked to herself – a car stopped outside driven by pixies, the smallest pixie had just found a pheasant in a bag and breathed life into it. As the car vanished into the distance (smoking a cigar) I put my plans into my pocket.