June and I climbed down from our balloon top bedroom which we keep in a box of naval mines. I thought the balloon was filled with helium while she thought it was hot air - incidentally the mines were covered in Late Sumerian cuneiform writing and had been franked in Essex. We both landed as porridge (June likes extra sugar in hers) and then parted as an attractive shade of mauve separating into blue and pink. The blue went to sit in his studio like a bird of prey brought to the edge of extinction by game keepers and the pink learnt how to make microwaveable meals out of scrap metal. The scrap metal was found at the top of the garden along with a small figure holding the directions to Roswell. The afternoon changed into its pyjamas and rest of the day was pampered like an old pet.