My Diary

I had breakfast on an endless staircase; mainly because I couldn’t get off unless I moved from the pupal stage to the imago and flew like the torn remains of a broadsheet newspaper. It was while getting the paper that I spied two people walk by with goldfish bowls as heads – the two fish touched noses and became eyes. I frowned as the lady with an armchair on her shoulders suddenly produced tenon saw hands. I sheltered the wood connection in my left arm and painted a parasol.

My Diary

June left by a third door (roughly where a third eye would be, my auntie called it the pineal gland) laying on a pasting table; I peeled back the green and brown striped wallpaper and pulled some daffodil bulbs from the satchel I used to take to junior school – mainly to hide the nuclear reactor that powered all the lights in an alternative dimension (where everyone in power were close relatives of red kangaroos). I kept my sandwiches under my hat – which was closely modelled on the Lizard lighthouse.

My Diary

I meant to take the cable car over the weeds in the garden today but instead curled up in the well worn dungarees of a Nepalese stunt man – he had worked for the abominable snowman among others . I found the eye slits in the balaclava last worn my a Martian prospector searching for a source of clean water for his new canal (it was the rabbit who pointed out the holes in the top for telescopic antenna) and pulled it down over me and the cat – who was sat on my lap reading a comic.

My Diary

June made a village out of toilet rolls and early issues of the Strand magazine in the bath so I hung from and old apple tree (along with a number of old professors) until the bathroom was free. After putting a tattoo of the iceberg that sunk the Titanic on the rump of an Indian elephant I sat in a revolving chair in the office of the Neptune Corporation slowly turning my spoon in a cup of black coffee. After spending all afternoon on the bridge of a space ship I descended to a planet of sentient coffee spoons.

My Diary

June and I had to carry our snail shells to Winchester, catching a supersonic slug just after breakfast (by then the manic depressive had hoovered the carpet and then made it dirty again). The animated statue waited for two hours in a waiting room while children ran around with stems of barley behind their ears. Once home again he and I sat in a tea cup and stirred myself silly. After I had run down the road with bride and groom glove puppets June went out with an Ancient Egyptian deity.

My Diary

I was out very early, June was still curled up in a seashell, and I left the house as quietly as possible; stopping only to discuss the philosophy of Nietzsche with the black cat from next door – which was floating several feet above the ground dressed in a space suit. I caught a bus (like The Mighty Joe Young caught a cold) and met the old man sat on a loaf of bread orbiting the Earth. I re-entered the Earth’s atmosphere some time later, with an old razor and a bag of stale chips.

My Diary

I emerged from a caddis fly cocoon just before the telephone rang. I talked to the King of the insects and then expanded into a kaleidoscopic sea anemone as the Lord of the Flies encased himself in plastic. By the time I had managed to get my feet out of two plastic buckets it had started to rain and all the mechanical camels had to be packed up again under the long tent. I spent the rest of the day in a glass tower watching spiders make concentric circles on a model landscape.