June went out early to pull green gloves off green hands, leaving me to pad about my creative cage like a tiger in a milk bottle (as usual the dog had already pinched the cream). Even though my hands had changed to paper aeroplanes I drew pictures all day; they evolved before my eyes, eventually growing propellors and rudimentary engines. As the afternoon progressed I thought of my studio as a forest with my art as signatures on tree trunks although when I looked again later some of the names had been crossed out. June came back as a bass line, had a drink and then went out playing lead - I drew a face on the drums kit, first glum and then happier. At the end of the afternoon the audience had arrived and we all waited as one for the saxophone solo.