I had to go to town, even though I kept an exact model in the top drawer of my bedside cabinet, and followed the uintatherium herd down the railway slope to the place where I pretend hats replace brick dwellings and feather dusters replace trees. I only stopped a little while: swimming in a tank and continually forgetting where I have been. I came home in a recyclable shopping bag and practised my scribble style yoga on the door step (ending up like a bow tie on a Vaudeville performer) before climbing the gantry of a Russian Mir rocket. I entered my studio with a ball of string I mistook for the cat. Outside a small hippo picked up litter while a marginally larger one threw it down again - I thought of going out dressed like Bela Lugosi but felt it wasn’t dark enough.