My Diary

I went to a hall with nine other people, one of which told us what to do.  After spending some time as a hill in the biggest county in England I took up position as a club moss partially knocked over by a newly emerged Devonian amphibian.  We had a forty five minute dinner break during which I phoned my wife (who was riding an albatross) and watched helpless as a company of frogs climbed out of my mouth and went on manoeuvres with weapons they found in an encyclopedia of Twentieth Century small arms.

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My Diary

My wife and I spent the night inside a whale talking to Jonah; we both had a lay in and finally emerged like frogs from a pond covered with duckweed.  A pond of disassociated thoughts – such as establishing contact with an asteroid caught in the appendix of a Nordic Frost Giant while buttering a copy of the New Testament which had just popped out of a glossy white toaster.  I spent the day in the garden planting messages I hope to read in the Spring.  June cut a banana into pieces and then read a story to it.

My Diary

I rode out of the house on a giant mouse (incidentally all the windows were wearing artificial eyelashes).  We went to a field were electricity pylons were taking up their positions for a barn dance, I tipped the fiddler and came back alone.  My radio earrings were picking up different stations; radio 3 in one ear and something really strange in the other.  I entered the room as June fitted up a complex system of pipes to her torso, I watched as messages were circulated by naked mole rats.

My Diary

Stray arrows were still arriving from a reenactment of the battle of the Little Big Horn when I got up so I didn’t venture out until I saw the conning tower of a nuclear submarine push up through the tarmac outside the bomb shelter house.  I spent a large part of the day painting portraits on the side of 312 kg free fall bombs while my wife trained phoenix birds to perform tricks in an aviary she kept behind the floral curtains in the living room.  Later on I poured water into my waterproof boots and went out.

My Diary

I travelled on a rich tea biscuit to a bungalow of scones and grass – I ate the scones and brought some of the grass home (I later discovered a lost tribe of South American Indians in it).  My wife had disappeared down a teapot so I had to wait until the dog got in from play school before I could leave the house dressed as a sycamore leaf.  When June came back I turned over a new leaf and drank soup from a Seventeenth Century quill pen – I then wrote my memoirs with a cheese and pickle sandwich.

My Diary

I have temporarily kept my toothache in a box under the bed and played leapfrog with myself until the automatic doors of my studio slid open.  I spent most of the day on the bridge of the spaceship with the cat on my lap going in and out of sundry temporal vortices.  I took several deep breaths before I pulled the monster out of the disused well where it had been sleeping.  I then threw an alarm clock into the pit and went to work as the front part of a pantomime horse – coming home later as the back.

My Diary

June went out early encased in a wooden log, I saw her float up stream in the guise of an early Red Indian.  While she was out I drew faces on my drum kit and manned the barricades during the Paris Commune – Poppy the dog had a quiet day painting in her studio (and got a lot done).  Once the meteorite shower had ended I ran out to get food for the extraterrestrial refugees; we ate chips and planned how we would celebrate the supernova.  I had extra vinegar on my chips.