My Diary

After the curtains were drawn I settled down on a very large tooth – similar to the one I will have to have out in the near future. The house was a head and I went into an eye socket to work. When it blinked I got into my time machine and travelled to a happier period of my life. I met the bus stop philosopher again. He showed me his collection of embalmed shrews and I pulled out a toy soldier. Even then he was known to be living in only one room of a multi-storey bungalow

My Diary

Today was my only day I could call my own; it was christened in the stream from an anthropomorphic glacier who the ruling class of giraffes had previously named Tom. Tom and I conversed across a card table – I had to remove my thorn covered gloves before I could make a working steamboat from several cartons of ice. After drawing faces up a Belisha Beacon I came home with a ten pound note hidden in the turn ups of my trousers. June was selling tickets to a show which had already been cancelled.

My Diary

I observed the start of another working week astride my white charger who I called centipede. We came to the castle of the Grey Knight and waded across the moat like space tourists. I knocked on several doors at once and went inside. I wondered why the floor had been washed in black ink but managed to sign my name on the cryptic coloured wall before the door of my childhood home closed. I switched on my flash light in sync with my wife switching on the television. I preferred to watch the torch.

My Diary

I put on a pair of bulldozers to walk the dog across the hot sand dunes as the sun waved its tendrils and a Nordic goddess descended from the polka dot clouds practising her sign language – we conversed in pidgin semaphore. After making a jigsaw puzzle out of broken paving slabs she put a mermaid in her pocket and rode out of sight in a chariot pulled by purring kittens – I held my studio waste bin in my arms and composed a song about paper people living out their lives in the shadow of the shredder.

My Diary

I walked on water from the bedroom door to the study where space rockets where being prepared for their launch. The little girl jumped into my arms as the dinosaurs measured out a cricket pitch; she pretended to be a bird and I pretended to be a tree. Later as the knights jousted in the dog kennel I painted bright pink fish on my armour and watched my miniature wife in her new dolls house blow psychedelic bubbles. The sky put on bright pink lipstick and I sailed away on an eyelash yacht.

My Diary

jumped out of a rough jute sack with straw as hair and soil from beneath Hadrian’s Wall covering my cat claws. Looking through the swish of a lion’s tail I held the elfin child aloft as the evil tailors dummies shuffled along the hall – we then flew over villages from various ages of human history, finally landing in an Anglo-Saxon field system as the guest of Mr & Mrs Rook. On the long walk home I attached the hind legs of an okapi and communed with the spirit of Isadora Duncan.

My Diary

I left the children’s book I was performing in very early; escaping by holding on to a speech bubble as it ascended from the page. After a drive through the Khyber Pass (I held my bag like a military medal from The Great War) I knocked on the Giant’s door. The plants in the garden were so high I had to hold my flag aloft but I still managed to find where the Snail King lived. We came back together as fast as we dared. I had to go out later to the dentist where I pretended to like a medieval instrument of torture.