June felt ill and stayed in a secret room inside a South American pyramid for much of the day (howler monkeys howled outside). I waved goodbye as I sailed off on an iceberg, coming back some time later holding my mouth and a flag which had its emblem surgically removed. I revolved in pain like a chimney strangled by ivy (June was dressed in authentic brick pyjamas with genuine smoke issuing from the top of her head). As the Victorian curtains descended I pulled coloured handkerchiefs out of empty boxes in front of an audience of great apes.
I spent some time watching new cities being built on lily pads as June made a construction out of deck chairs – when it reached the roof we decided to go indoors to paint faces on bed pans. I discovered an Easter Island statue in my studio and dressed it up like a medieval jester while I sat inside a computer drawing circles in virtual squares. The person waiting at the front door claimed to have heard voices as I took the telephone from the cat who had curled up on top of it. I brought him indoors as a cavalcade of sabre tooth tigers trundled down the road.
June has got a cold and when she finally got up I was sitting on a large piece of seaweed (a species of bladderwrack I believe) several miles from land. I got a lift to the alien garden in the mouth of a jumbo pelican and found a small number of pottery shards taking lessons from two sentient chimney pots. After a short period growing reptilian feathers I remade the urn and took it to a shop keeper to sell. I looked at the sweet shelves in front of the counter and found a coin – the blindfolded guitarist played a tune as I came back via a psychedelic paper chain.
I managed to walk up the road with a tenon saw stuck in each pocket, I reached the top of the hill walking like Clint Eastwood and gave June a cat biscuit. The cook was standing pinned to the door with smoke issuing from one eye and both ears; I posted a paper dart in his letter box and went back with the remnants of a meal. Before I could immerse myself in the aquarium I call my studio Poppy wanted a game of football, she scored several goals and I found a message written on a blade of grass. The guinea pig was reciting Tennyson when we got back.
I went out very early, crawling along a concrete pipe until I saw daylight in the shape of faun holding a mirror to its face. The old man of the forest was sitting on several slices of bread when I arrived at the staging post – the lady next door pushed a paper okapi through the letter box and I looked up its family tree in the jungle library. I had some time when I returned to sleep in an Iron Age hill fort before swimming to town followed by a number of sharks wearing bowler hats. I inverted a hat and sailed home, discovering another continent as I did so.
I managed to climb on the bird of paradise’s wing today and lifted off over the telegraph poles and their strands of conversation. June made a call and I answered with at least two scarves round my head. I followed the map written on a large birds egg before coming in to land in an old well (I designated it Number 37). After this I waited for a man to arrive to take the hand of my friend Hieronymus who had spent the morning silently watching some adults grow into children. I then went out again to find another man I knew called Bosch.
I crept downstairs from the giant bell I had spent the night in just before it rang out for the mariners who had accidentally found themselves many miles inland. June had left the house without telling me so I had a flying saucer for breakfast and then went out on the lion’s mane parapet. Three suns were shining and I pulled the crumpled bicycle firmly down over my head while taking a spare parts catalogue out of my pocket and beginning to sing. A millipede as long as next door’s garden ambled by as I tried to learn my lines in front of a can of hairspray.