I got out of a suitcase instead of a bed and tied the shoelaces in the carpet; June went out with her shoes undone. I listened to light music as I did heavy work in the house. Poppy and I put a girdle round the Earth in forty minutes before June came back from standing as a tent pole on a hillside all morning; she mentioned that hordes of strange people milled round with the heads of horses and the bodies of men – I laughed as everyone knows it is actually the other way round. I worked in the secret garden all afternoon before following a fairy tale trail to dinner. Exotic birds set the table as the silver plated cutlery told stories about the salt and pepper shakers. In a brown study the up-lighting foretold the end of the world.
I woke from a dream about the marriage of two Egyptian mummies – after their vows they exchanged bindings. June had rode to work on a mechanical ostrich which I had found going cheap in the local ironmonger. Incidentally, he also gave me a shrunken head for my torch and a rhubarb stalk made from a down-pipe (June wouldn’t touch it without sugar). After our walk Poppy and I explored a submarine which had risen in the lounge with the conning tower protruding through a vase of flowers (a bee hovered round its periscope). Covering myself in string I remained in my studio for the rest of the day waiting for a hand to emerge from the ceiling to untie me.
June had grown two extra heads during the night and said goodbye three times as I turned over to wrestle with a chimera which had just emerged from a dream the dog was having – sadly the chimera won and I had to throw myself into a bath of cold porridge before going to town in a costume made from various sizes of elastic band. I purchased a handful of meadows and came home pursued by a man holding a sickle – when he held it up to the sun it made the smile in a golden face. As an experiment I tried to paint the rain as it fell over the pond but all I managed to do was extinguish the candles of a procession of hooded figures who went by singing a lament to a great auk’s egg.
I was waiting for the Japanese warrior tied to a kite to come down all morning; in the end I gave up and went and worked in an upturned hat until forced out by a speeding wagon train pulled by rabbits – I then waited for a pack of Siberian hamsters dressed like Red Indians to exit screaming only to find they were having a barn dance in the lichen covered exoskeleton of a Marsh Dalek. June flew in mid morning standing on a scrap of paper, she held out her hand to the animal headed figures roped off in the Nevada desert side of the kitchen and then walked out like a fashion model in a mangrove swamp. I practiced my patented death valley smile before making a model of a pterodactyl fibula out of balsa wood.
I had to go to town with a small collection of houses squat round the brim of my Lord Nelson hat; I sunk a number of ships on the way down and rescued drowning sailors on the way back. In between I rolled in hay painted in primary colours with a robot just landed from a Martian ship (the poisonous snakes hiding in my beard fell to the ground like fire works found to be invisible under a glaring sun). I later found that the sea serpent I confronted at the giant centipede station was a typographical error in my page of reality. I had quickly turned over the page anyway and sat on a grassy hillside like a rock. A small bird landed on my rock head holding a kaleidoscopic worm in its beak.
I got up so early all the ghosts down the street were still flying kites. I threw my clown face sceptre up into the milky morning and ran for the bus before it came back down to land. On the anteater omnibus I was manacled by lights as the Harlequinade went wild on both decks. I changed buses and showed the pantomime horse my ticket twice. I was puzzled by the cardboard smiles elastically held in place across the corn dolly faces and allowed my three eyed card to slide like a paper hat falling over the face of a mannikin in a New Year shop window – outside the shoppers went home with several lumps of coal in each pocket. I saw the old man at the hill top and we both blew seeds into the air.
A disconcerting start to the day as I found a steam ship had sailed into the house during the night. June went to town out of the bow to get new eyes for her starfish tentacles while I climbed out of the stern into the washing up cloth garden. I pulled out all the half cleaned plates and put them on the drainer just as an eagle went overhead in search of a small child to transport. I then pulled a long length of cloth from under the hand printed slabs; putting it in my pocket I reflected on the number of bodies it had previously been wound round. Resting in the cold grey submarine at the end of the day I pulled down the periscope and saw my own face much smaller than usual – a small hand reached across a newly harrowed field.