My Diary: A Sudden Surge In Fried Egg Eyes

A blue,‭ ‬red and white morning with June and I suddenly became part of an RAF display team:‭ ‬she walked to work and I read the last lines of Virgil’s Aeneid to the cat.‭ ‬We were supposed to go out to a pixie ball in the evening but June had come in from a black sheep shearing contest feeling unwell.‭ ‬We both blamed the heat from the Roman baths that had unexpectedly appeared in our penny black lawn and decided to spend the evening putting large ticks in small boxes and watching a flotilla of motorised swordfish sail by‭ ‬-‭ ‬I stood at the spot where old men in Rhode Island Red chicken suits cross the road‭ (‬when asked why,‭ ‬they say to get to the other side‭)‬.‭ ‬I celebrated this fact by wearing a bobble hat on my nose and calling the random movements of my thumb and index finger a dance.

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