My Diary

June went out through a temporal portal again; it was early for me and late for her. I rode a slug round the garden making a note of all the jobs I had to do (I suspect the slug was planning its menu). I put the toy with the time in its abdomen on the green table while I wrestled with old men, their beards so long they pulled corpses out of the undergrowth (I got the cat to put them back after it had finished making an Airfix kit of a Lancaster bomber). It was late before June returned with a green cloth draped all over her.

My Diary

I sat in a pool of inky black liquid for much of the morning; the sun was raining overhead. Progress was slow as I rode a triceratops to the shops and back – June had to borrow some bags to put the rainbows in and I felt more tired when I got in than when I came back from the front with lipstick instead of bullets. I talked about the station master knowing full well that all the tracks had been taken up and replaced with a garden. I had to feel my teeth before the large ships headed for the harbour.

My Diary

I got up early (June had already left the pupal case and was drying her wings alongside a slowly moving stream – although before this I had shrunk to the size of a model soldier and travelled inside an aeroplane disguised as a kingfisher). I was picked up by a flying saucer at half past nine; myself and the pilot dressed as fluffy rabbits. I designed a submarine shaped like a sea urchin while munching a lettuce leaf – about the same time the alligator in the swimming pool solved a complex mathematical equation).

My Diary

June took a shuttle craft to an orbiting satellite while I tossed and turned in bed remembering the figure that stood at the top of the stairs. I put a glass city in my mouth and counted its populace; the pain in my jaw equated to a new underground system (obvious potential for terrorist attack). I found time to paint the town a quiet green, watering the plants in my studio and creating a sculpture of Aphrodite in the compost heap. June brought the shopping down the chimney; Boadicea climbed out the letter box.

My Diary

Up as early as a pyramid. I caught the bus with my stealth wings folded up in a blue bag and knocked on the door of the ancient ship wreck wearing a sailor suit. I talked to the admiral while painting crosses on several pieces of cheese on toast and then climbed the rigging, my pen knife clenched between my teeth. I saw the old squadron leader clinging to a cloud before a little boy knocked him off with a pea shooter. After planting the peas I came home with two bags of grass and a broken screwdriver.

My Diary

I woke in the desert, June was cold, and went out early to survey the scene (the theatrical set which we exist in was being changed from the hold of a tea clipper to the local vicar’s sitting room: a naked woman walked in holding a violin). I decided to spend another day in the garden, working around the site where Nelson’s Column had crashed landed the other night – several policemen dressed only in their pyjamas ran up the road, closely followed by an old woman holding a burning frying pan.

My Diary

Swinging from trees I left the house followed by an early ancestor with a jet pack. In the garden I sought refuge in the glass dome the old men used before they lived in caves; I rearranged the plants and invented a cobra light (just before I made an anaconda television – it had an LCD screen and I think now it should have been plasma – and a gecko refrigerator). I spent all day in the lost world which occupied the crater of an extinct volcano and found the place where the baboon gods met to practice karaoke.