I stood on the first stepping stone and then watered my foot; a lady rushed by holding a bowl of wet washing – several ancient javelins struck the earth as I called after her. I stood on a second stepping stone and found myself inside a giant leg – it was created with incredible verisimilitude – it kicked a ball as I rolled up a newspaper – several minutes later I landed in the goal. Voices emanated from behind the hedge and the newspaper ran off pursued by several dogs and an old slipper. The rain stopped as I pushed my arm though the fence.
The day started like the opening scene of a film: a zip was pulled down to reveal a desert where my breakfast bowl should have been – the dog was standing by the window shaving. Scene Two: I sat on the porch waiting for the sun to come up over the high rise cactus when two friends dropped by dressed as rain clouds – the mechanical polecat I had made myself brought out some drinks, we talked – I never got wet. Scene three: June came in and went out again, I followed, dragging a cuddly toy resembling a fire salamander – I never got burnt.
June went out with a man balancing on a tight rope between her shoulder blades (one of which was asleep and the other was learning to play the piano). I had to disentangle a replica of the Crab Nebula from my head before being picked up by and aging gunfighter and his psychic horse. We found the base of a ladder – the top was hidden in the clouds – we decided not to climb up (I lost count of how many people were sitting on piles of muck – most were wearing short trousers). June was out all day balancing a family of lemurs on her floral hat.
June went to work by submarine; I watched the periscope cut through the pavement and skirt round a lamppost. Before breakfast I made a model of Mount Fuji on the kitchen table my parents had in the old house. I only ever see it in dreams or in formations of wild geese returning at night to roost. I ran out briefly like a football player and then stayed in the goal mouth waiting for a lady to arrive sucking a pencil, she looked at the back of the house as it bent down and then left again, lighting the pencil and blowing out smoke as she did so.
An early start to the day; although June had been up for hours and walked out holding a cannon ball. I caught the bus where smoke came out of the ground – apparently a house had buried itself in the earth and only its chimney was visible – two people were picked up by cars and a third by a waterfall on wheels. I met the old man on the side of the hill and tested my telephone reception before shaking the hand that come out of a brick wall. We tried to think of as many species of millipede that we could before dropping toothbrushes down our fronts.
June ran out of the house before I got up carrying the little man from the space capsule in the garden. I rose and put the camera together. I then photographed the dog in her bikini, went to down dressed as a duck billed platypus and finally watched the radio in lieu of a television screen. June came back sooner than expected with a wig made from discarded sweet wrappings; I immediately put a vegetarian hot dog on my head and we went out. We watched a sleepy butterfly before her wings got broken – they were mended later.
The day begun with rain drops falling on a looking glass hastily thrown down on the grass the night before – hoof prints followed a circular path. I made the route look like an old man smoking a pipe before going out for the day with June. We went by solar chariot and I kept thunderbolts in the boot just in case. We looked round boiling cauldrons and I said a spell backwards just before eating lunch. Walking in the opposite direction to the cellophane hordes we managed to get home before the candle burnt through the rope.