June and I ate our breakfasts inside adjoining recyclable bags; I ate crumpled paper and she ate the news. She wanted to go out and arranged herself like an embroidered handkerchief in the breast pocket of her favourite jacket. I painted my jeans before I painted the canvas and then settled down to listen to voices emerge from the river washed stones I collected last week. I arranged the sounds into sets depending on vocal ability; stopping off half way to undress and have a bath with one of a pair of Wellington boots over my head - I thought this would make a good photograph but had left the camera in my school satchel - along with a red and blue flashing Dalek. June came home with the pale coloured finger nails of a faith healer.