My Diary

I walked the plank from our archaic bedroom to the living room sea where a new species of coral was being discovered every few minutes – I painted portraits on crab shells (mostly from images taken from the American Civil War).  When the carnivorous clock struck noon we all went out, me wearing a lampshade instead of a hat and June wearing litter bins on her feet; I had meant to empty the bins but there was a giant frog in the dustbin – we sailed away on a giant water lily leaf.

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My Diary

I got up early, June got up late.  I raced around the house followed by a shadow called Elisabeta.  I tended to a musical instrument made from medicine bottles while she removed dead flowers from their vases.  The rain was filling the silk stockings hanging from the deciduous trees in our neighbour’s garden as I waited for him to go out before filling the dustbin.  I painted a face on the outside wall using dots representing the lives of individuals in a tumultuous world.  I went to bed early, June went to bed late.

My Diary

I left the test tube shaped like a Norman keep early (before all fifteen versions of June had lit their one candle) and went by three humped camel to the giant football house snuggled into, the admittedly dark, clouds – strange words were imprinted on snow flakes.  I dressed as Rupert Bear for the return journey and arrived with a forked tongue sensing the air for messages.  I worked in my Bakelite tower for as long as possible – the gibbon held a cricket bat and I held two individually signed balls.

My Diary

I crumpled up a paper version of myself I found on the antique tile floor and threw it in the bin – this took forty five goes (mainly because the bin pulled up its long dress and ran every time I took aim).  During the commissioning ceremony June came in wearing a short skirt and a holding a collection of unread newspapers from the middle of the last century; I proceeded to read as many as I could before pulling the rowing boat onto the beach and removing three fluffy toys representing the three witches from Macbeth.

My Diary

I had another lay in, nestled tightly between two recumbent mummies from the Fourth Dynasty.  They unravelled as I got up with a Dutch flower painting instead of a head.  I took the canvas out into the garden where I planted it after cutting a number of bamboo stems and making a pipe organ from them.  I was joined after dinner by a string puppet made by a secret agent called Imhotep and played a fugue as the sun went down behind a multi-storey cowboy hat that stood silently at the end of the garden.

My Diary

I got up late, squatting at the entrance of a dark cave trying to catch fairy shrimps which had bred in the coffee percolator.  I poured myself a cup of tea from my top hat and sat down in a fairy grotto to watch plastic mushrooms emerge from a reusable supermarket bag.  After running a toy car up my front and round the top of my head I popped to the shops to buy the remnants of snow which had disappeared from everywhere else.  People in anti gravity suits were practising yoga positions in deep space.

My Diary

We went to the coast as trapped butterflies in a back of a car; a small house was strapped to the roof in which cans of lager were jumping about like agitated molecules at the birth of the solar system.  I left the car as Saturn, changed my mind and returned as Jupiter (holding a Christmas bucket and spade and Xmas flip flops).  The ice brethren had thawed themselves with laughter before I walked in holding an empty bird cage – the bird followed a bit later carrying a recently patented hair straightener.