This diary (which used to be in a separate blog called Simple Simon’s Diary) is exactly seven years old; a time when I supplemented my income from painting sales with occasional work in an art shop and many evenings a week in an off licence – all of which, and many other things, is represented in my writing.
Out to the cabbage patch citadel in the very early morning (rough tracks move from the present day to my childhood). I found the room hidden in the cumulonimbus clouds and took out a flattened portrait. I brought home grapes.
An early start, the sky was like a cloth cap. I walked down the road carrying a ladder and came back with a snake. In between I had conversed with characters from an ancient Greek story – we pretended to dabble our toes in a mythical stream.
I went back to bed after taking my wife to work in a sack. When I woke up I found the lock to the morning had a new combination, by the time I had learnt it, it was afternoon. After dinner, I took a jet pack out of my back pocket and flew.
I went to work astride a corrugated cardboard boat, much like the type the Vikings were burnt in. I discussed multiple destinies with the Queen of the Capybaras and then came home in a suitcase carried by myself.
I saw a girl today who wore such large boots all you could see of her was the top of her head. She gave me some good advice then promised to suck my blood. It is bitterly cold. I thought of holidays on Venus as I nursed a penguin.
Took Poppy to see the good witch today. She had a spell cast on her and I regressed to a caveman state. This was after I disappeared into a tree with a snake on wheels but before I hid in a cupboard while June rode a mechanical horse to the white wizard’s residence.
Poppy and I are taking long walks again. Today, we went to the reed beds where the space rockets are born – walking past Cerebus like two red uniformed soldiers. I marvelled at the willows in the sunshine as I leant against an old gate with a Russian lady on my head.