The winged mermaid dropped in very early; I had only just emerged from a bath in a watering can and was trying on a new pair of house sparrow earrings. We all followed an escaping apple from its tree prison and walked to the boat shaped lakes. We played like ancient Nubians among the horsetails and then followed another peripatetic fruit home – I kicked a goal before a two people arrived by sports car to remove the landscape and leave us with a bare wall – I rearranged the fruit bowl and then walked from one end of a banana to another.
June went to work as a hand appeared from a passing cloud trying to find the horn it had just dropped (the vicar waltzed up the road wearing a tin hat). I spent a couple hours as a sheet of cardboard and then crayoned on my front like a child. As an adult I clambered into a rock crevice and drew European bison on the plains of Africa. I had finished my mass migration by the time that June had returned wearing the vicar (I blew a tune on a French horn and then laid out the toy soldiers in their formations for the battle of Waterloo).
I got up, still thinking about the near empty lake (probably drained by a drunken Nordic god), and went downstairs by Swiss funicular railway – shaking hands with a suit of armour covered with supermarket stickers as I did so. The dog had been holidaying in an African tree house and insisted on travelling by liana so I walked a rather nice set of designer sauce pans round the block. I then went to town on my hands; wearing out my gloves and having to replace them with a pair of hand flip flops. I came back as a purple flame and lit up my studio the rest of the day.
I skipped around a small tree while the dog skipped around me – after a frank discussion we both agreed to skip around each other (I wore a wizard’s hat just for this). I then went for a coffee and a cake in a sheep pen, along with an assortment of other animals – all playing medieval musical instruments, and met a picture I hadn’t seen for a long time. I came home riding in a book instead of a car – unfortunately it got a flat tyre and I had to write a new ending. Later, after gluing a variety of leaves on my top lip I met June beside a mechanical duck.
I went out of the house with paws instead of hands and feet; the dog wore designer flip flops (and had a carrot stuck in each ear for some obscure reason – possibly because she has started to read paperbacks). I came back after a few minutes of watching a fire breathing dragon preening itself. The windows of the dolls house I live in had been replaced with fish tanks and a bird cage enclosed a galaxy similar to our own; I had a sip of a black hole cup of tea before making myself a neutron star lunch. The budgie did press-ups on the grand piano.
Out of the colouring blocks very early with my crayons in my hand. I coloured the skyline all the way to my childhood village where I sat at the feet of a giant stone Buddha. When it moved I went out in the garden to walk in straight lines. I then made a circuitous line home, stopping off at the hippodrome to watch rabbits racing. I got back to my studio on the hill in time to watch the gods play games, their shadows making patterns like sunset clouds. I had time to rearrange the tiles before the ancient goddess got out of the bath and walked on them.
June went on a holiday today; floating off inside a multicoloured soap bubble (which I promised not to pop). I ran in from the African savannah when it started to rain lions and cheetahs and worked in my australopithecine cave for the rest of the day. I photographed the latest in household lighting and then rubbed two computers together to make a camp fire. The sweet packet people sang songs as I devised a new filing system for a company of non laughing hyenas. Once the sun had set I went out into the desert wearing only an artist’s beret.