My Diary

Apologies for not posting last week but I have been away on holiday (the first for ten years!).  Here are the posts from Saturday 20th September to Saturday 27th September:


I got up with a balsa wood glider replacing the features of my face. June was preparing for lunar orbit and we both expressed concern for the people with turtle heads before we took off. We landed where crumpled faces congregate and looked for silhouettes hidden among the brick walls and buffer stops of a fashion terminus (I call it the void although I did look for a bright green hat to go with my red beard). June bought shopping bags to put shopping bags in while I waited on the top floor for the lift to come down. We came home by dodo express and I immediately parted the waters for an old man with a beard to walk through – the turtle heads were taking part in a fashion shoot for a well known glossy magazine.


I got up in an unbrushed hair morning and felt the top of my head. I fed the mythical animals to the sound of geriatric choristers while June got ready for her quantum mechanical meal. Having caught a bus at the urban armpit I travelled down arm and met the old man for a second hand breakfast – I then went out into his family heirloom garden and turned some soil. I noticed the child had changed into a digital copy and his mother a piece of Eighteenth Century furniture (complete with cabriole legs). I gave my child goodbyes and came home via a black and white spotted mail coach. June was waiting to cling to a tree like ivy and I walked the dog before she went to town as a crucifix on the head of a stag. Finding myself alone I went upstairs to paint a head on a guillotine blade.


I designed a pineapple house while in a semiconscious state and lived in it for a time in a tropical dream. June was living in a different house and got up before me; she was riding a mechanical raccoon around our termite mound living room when I came down to find a breakfast bowl to sit in (after filling it half way with milk – as I did so I placed words in a safe place ready to hand them out next time the tree children drop in). Having decided I had the RMS Queen Mary as a shadow I steamed out into the garden; coming back almost straight away with a paint brush and a ladder – my shadow was by now a floating hotel and a film slide which unfortunately had turned pink. I climbed the ladder and viewed the paint brush from a great height.


June went to the hill top meeting and came back with a glass of water on each eyelid; I reached for my umbrella as she fluttered her eyelashes. After the rain had died down we went out to buy a can of white paint even though there is one already on the kitchen floor with sharks swimming it; I pulled out a swimmer and called her a brush – a cloud entered the open window but left before we could close it again; I tried to mark its flight path on the floor with a pencil line, surprisingly it resembled a figure with wings. June cooked a camp side meal as I painted the flames on the fire (I recollected that I have been waiting my whole life for a person with fires in their eyes, the nearest I have got was meeting a man with smoke from his ears).


June had to go to work to be taught how to talk to dolls; I wasn’t sure if I could feel my hands and walked on water to the shop and back – I spoke to a lady with sailing boat shoes and then crumpled the grey sky into a grey ball. I waited a short while for a leg to kick the ball but only arms emerged from the built-in cupboards. I then worked in my canal boat studio, remembering childhood games as I placed pencil lines into tight formations like advancing soldiers. Most of the soldiers were shaped like landscapes, one of which was covered in snow resembling a celtic cross in a remote churchyard. June came in as the marching band started to play and the cat dancers jumped from ethereal laps – I was surprised when I found out later that the drummer was a girl.


I listened to the wind rattling the picture frame window (I prefer to see a painted landscape when I rise) and then spoke to trees as I entered the kitchen by way of a very long rope; the dog was coiled up on the cat mat and I unknotted her tail ( I think it was a granny knot but it could have been another relation. I only ever knew one grandad: not sure if I will ever meet the other one, perhaps in a battlefield in the sky – however, by then the fighting will have stopped and all territorial disputes would be settled with lawn mowers). June and I had to hang wallpaper as the smoke settled; she stood in a hole while I stood on a ladder – when we reached the door that no one is allowed to open we decided to stop. A sky god knocked on the door and let himself in.


I stepped into a picture book straight from a dream; I ticked the first page illustrating a hedgehog in a gun barrel and a severed hand wrapped in Sellotape and then made myself breakfast on the second. June and I were hanging wallpaper again while the rest of the animal occupants of the house were busy solving lagrangian equations. I spent all afternoon atop a ladder which had earlier expressed an interest in walking on its own, eventually stepping out of the front door to Colditz freedom; as I would have been clinging to its top I was glad when I finally persuaded it not to – recommending instead that it learnt to play the lute (I mentioned the music of John Downland as a good starting point). June and I stood like castles either site of a strait, both watching intently as two mermaids pulled themselves out of the water and started throwing clays pots on a revolving rock.


A return to Indus Valley civilisation normality: June went to work although a bit later than usual, partly because she was carrying the parts of a Crimean War cannon on her back which she promised to reassemble at the foot of the old man’s bed (reputedly he has a moustache which is several yards long and writhes like a snake when bathed in moonlight; I told her to bathe it only in salt water). As is my want I locked myself into my postbox studio to paint letters as they fall like mechanically substituted bison – incidentally, I look forward to an era when all plains are covered in bison again. June came home, not much earlier than usual, riding a water buffalo. I made her a coffee while a man stepped off a flying boat in the back garden.


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