My Diary

When I came downstairs June was busy adding the finishing touches to the garden in her hair; she tied in the climbers as a rainbow emerged from one flower pot and disappeared into another – I always think of ships made from papyrus when the sun shines indoors and I was just going to write down a string of Egyptian names I could use as code for my first spiritual computer when the light bulb rained and a flock of starlings landed to pull bright red worms out of an otherwise grey carpet. Simultaneously a train reached the end of the Victorian pier in our Edwardian fireplace and a head emerged from the sideboard; knowing what was coming next I grasped the hand sticking out of the top drawer and squeezed it affectionately before hitting it hard with a lump hammer.


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