I got up very early myself, the crepuscular cockerel having been eclipsed by a fire breathing dragon slowly entering the swirling Magellanic Clouds. June was standing in the kitchen like a railway signal that had moved only after the train had past; I put lipstick round my eyes but never smiled - I then thought how much better this world would be would be if all clocks moved slower. I put my voice in a cage with the aim of teaching it to speak and then flagged down the bus in the farmer’s field: the driver had a bull’s head and I told myself to be careful where I sat as I mused on the existence of god in a world of perennial flower gardens. I prayed to a Daffodil before meeting the old man in a glossy brochure of brand new kitchen units. I came home with a topsail attached to my working class hat.