My Diary

June is still feeling a little poorly and borrowed a speed boat to travel the short distance to the moated torso where she works. I had to go to town dressed as a cheese and onion baguette (I was concerned about the mayonnaise but needed to keep the miniature bivouacs on the top of my head in place – the miniature people who play such a prominent part in my dreams need somewhere to sleep). I came home with a handful of 20lb fragmentation bombs – some of which were primed to explode when the shadow of a Greek Trireme floated over head – and coloured sand for the desert I am making on the coconut shaped dining table. I was wondering if imagination would ever break the sound barrier when a loud bang knocked over the mannequin made from old tabloid newspapers.


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