Back to building a house from used toothbrushes today. Hiding a collection of tools in my bag I dressed myself as Pierrot with a road map painted on the white costume. A message was sent to the all knowing spider concerning the whereabouts of the country it portrayed but all that came back was a postcard from Atlantis before the deluge. I built a waterfall in my top pocket and threw myself down it inside a barrel. June was out all morning plugged into a pinball machine at an old peoples home.
I woke thinking of genetically modified trees which have televisions instead of leaves. June and I then went out to shop, her with a host of golden daffodils and me like the Ancient Mariner. We walked on the same piece of ground for so long it became sacred but she eventually found something others could wear – it would have taken even longer to find something suitable for herself. While I waited I took a short excursion to Neptune, taking in a number of botanical gardens and a museum of ancient relics.
In a semi-awake state I stumbled down a dimly lit corridor, the strange singing got louder the farther along I went. June woke up abruptly and found she had set her alarm clock incorrectly – I tiptoed by a snoring werewolf holding a small man made from coloured paper clips (I heard her bath water exiting the stage pursued by a bear). She went to work just as the rabbit pulled a magician out of a hat. In my childhood dreams I could escape from vampires by taking flight – I found no blood in my studio but still hit my head on the ceiling.
I spent most of the day outside of the goldfish bowl we normally inhabit. I busied myself among the emerging shoots, happily creating chaos out of order – although I was accused of being truculent by a something or other princess riding a snail shell carriage (the bridge across the long and winding road separated and clapped its hands). I managed to get things inside before the rain ran down the window, leaving only the bugler shot in lieu of the messenger and a short note written in an unknown hand.
June left the house even earlier than usual – wearing stilts so she could peer down the chimney – several regiments of foot soldiers of the George I era were bivouacked inside; I could hear them singing salacious songs while I was writing an ode to a lesser known vanir goddess. June came back earlier than expected too; I was still marching round the partially clean kitchen holding a chamber pot to my face with a view of Bognor Regis clearly visible. We went out later to throw cinders in a sacred grove.
June went to town with a model of an early Seventeenth Century village on her head (she normally wears a plastic replica of a soap opera set as a hat); I contemplated singing an opera aria on Coronation Street but decided against it. I had already been out wearing a wolf costume to get dog food and then with long ears to get something the rabbit could play on his new record player. Later that day two people knocked on the door asking where they could find god; I pointed up the street while June pointed down.
I got up extremely early (Homo habilis had only started using tools) and managed to get on a passing sea slug to be transported to the bottom of the ocean. I had tea with Neptune and we reminisced about next door’s garden; I mentioned Janus and he reminded me of the little girl coming up the path with her apron strings undone. Although I laughed we ended up close childhood friends. I got home in time to take the fire dog to see her best friend Smoke – I then went in search of twenty four carrots to make a diamond.