My Diary

Today was a semi-transcendental day which I celebrated on a scale model of Hadrian’s Wall pulling Roman soldiers from between the paving slabs. A man dressed like a penny postman walked by holding a sickle; we swapped road signs and I came inside. The house had already changed its clothes several times that morning and was trying on a pair of support tights while various chimney shaped hats paraded on its roof. I touched fingers with a friend trapped between the inner walls since Edwardian times and then went out into the garden again. Our neighbours were living in an overturned Greek urn and I had to pat their fish which they kept on a lead. When June came back from work I noticed the man with the sickle was heading home.

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