I had to visit the vampire bull frog in her clinical pond and tied myself to a smiling face kite for the cloud treading journey – I would have preferred a Chinese dragon but it was heading for the hills to pick flowers. She was dressed in white and kept a church organ on her person; as we shook hands music played. I collected up some of the notes and planted them in the herbaceous border before ripping up an old manuscript and recording the sound. June and I went out for dinner in the evening, we found an anthill which was reasonably priced but I was disappointed with the small number of vegetarian meals. We had to come home quickly after a group of pheasants tried to break in and hide their shotgun cartridges.
I got up just after June had slithered under the door, paper thin. I half expected someone to write on her as she went up the road. I kept my writings to myself as I made teeth for the dining table. After feeding several items of furniture to the piranha waste bin I went to town with a character from Sinbad the Sailor asleep in my haversack. I collected preserved finger and toenails from the ruins of Pompeii and came home along a bridge a passing ethereal entity had likened to an alligator. I worked in my studio for the rest of the day even though it had tilted at a forty five degree angle after the house had hit an iceberg – actually the iceberg hit a house and I laid down in an igloo to write in white ink on white paper.
June got up with several jellyfish floating above her head – I counted six but I think several more were hiding in the wardrobe. I placed a coral reef over my shoulders and walked to the whale belly we are using as a bathroom. The bath was full of words, some forming complete sentences; I slowly submerged in poetry until I reached a punctuation mark and lost the soap. The dog and I flew between hills just before Brunel decided to build a viaduct across the valley – I called the valley Alicia and we promised to keep in touch. I had a map of my town drawn in the late Eighteenth Century across my face until June rubbed it off using the wheels of a Dinky toy – unfortunately I hadn’t kept the box otherwise it would have been a collectors item.
I woke up and found myself on the waters edge (I discovered from the picture on the cereal packet that amphibians had recently evolved and were emerging from the sea which I had erroneously thought was a frown on the stranger’s face). June swam across the surface of a soup dish and pulled herself out with the aid of several croutons. I watched her before painting a Martian landscape on my napkin and then examining it for signs of life. This reminded me of the flying windmill which had crashed landed on the cranium of my ectoskeleton and had been pumping up astral water all night – I walked the dog along a Venetian canal before addressing this matter fully. The soup kitchen lady returned later in the day weary faux ermine and a papier mache crown.
I woke from a dream of elemental spirits walking only on the white squares in a chess board garden – I like jumping between the (howling werewolf) black squares myself! I met the little vampire and her blood brother and we went on an adventure; we tried to go through as many sea serpent arches as we could before the masked people jumped out of the soap in eye bubbles which were threatening to descend. As a joke I divided them up into full stops and commas but all the voices actually emanated from a semicolon. Before the sausage dog imperial guard returned we all played in a pyramidal tent – outside the deciduous leaves were all numbered and I wondered if they would fall before I got round to painting them in.
June wanted to go to town and sent me a message on a scarf last worn by Billy The Kid on a trip to Blackpool beach. I gave her my bucket and spade and went into the garden with a Sub Saharan desert on my top hat (I had an oasis in my top pocket but the skeletons in my back pocket wouldn’t let me look at it. I worked in the top of the bill at the London Palladium heat for almost all of the day, only stopping to rescue a falling flying fish from the Great Bear Constellation. I put it back in the ceiling as I couldn’t reach the sky. June laughed her way along the grinning pavement (I usually sent the silent pavement to Coventry where it could admire the Graham Sutherland tapestry in the cathedral like a clothed Lady Godiva).
I was up sky lark early and caught the barracuda bus to a deep sea village where I found the god Neptune talking about flames that remained lit underwater. I marvelled at this and then pulled an exact replica of the Flying Scotsman with seven carriages from the space between my navel and the photograph of an old lady in a tropical bird garden. I wanted to fly away and meet her again but I can only ascend into any kind of sky at night. I folded up our remaining conversation and tucked it away to enjoy later. The cat which hid an entire civilisation greeted me on my return at our Mickey Mouse door; we exchanged small plastic models found in some breakfast cereal packets and I then sat down on the first stage of a Saturn Five rocket for the rest of the afternoon.