I woke with a lawn mower in the bed, June had got up sometime before and was casting daisy heads across the bright green carpet. I put on a pair of steel-capped boots (you cannot be too careful) even though I was otherwise naked and waited for the cats to climb the stairs on their rainbow stilts - I dressed in an April shower. Before a breakfast of clamped toy cars I climbed the tree growing out of the dustbin and hung the recycling like little owls throwing confetti wisdom at a wedding of fools. I could see a long way from my vantage point and hoped to record the scene using time as a paintbrush. I was still musing on the hypothetical beauty of intangible ideas when June rung up wanting cigarettes. The man behind the counter had tied his hair like a slow moving stream.