My Diary

I had to get up early to walk June up the blood black hill. The stone animals on top the low walls crouched like soldiers the wrong side of defensive earthworks. June thought they were stalking tigers but I thought they were just spiders in the heraldic armour of Lancastrian Kings. While June was breathing deep at work I drew veins on the giant arm that had pushed through the mouse flap in the front door. By the time I had finished the urban street plan she had returned, complete with postman earrings and the head of Perseus on her shield – I signed the doormat and gave it the first person I saw (it happened to be a clown on his way to a wake). June and I sat like fiddler crabs on a tropical beach as children changed Christmas crackers into waste paper.

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