A Much Earlier Weekly Diary

I am extremely late with my weekly writing again so here is my earlier diary for last week.



A trip to the magic allotments where old men till their memories. It proved to be an eventful morning as a forgotten land was spied from the crows nest and starlings mobbed jackdaws at the top of the garden. Later, I hung from the ropes of an army assault course reciting the poems I wrote as a child.



Today was as busy as a two headed day can be. The morning was composed of strange knots which only the very youngest could untie. The middle of the day was spent searching the urban wilderness for countryside riddles and during the female evening Ben and I discussed a film neither of us had ever seen.



I spent much of the day in the garden, where gibbons hung from croquet hoops and animal calls pierced the sky between the lines of elaborate stencils held up against it. I met someone who abducted aliens, even though no one believed their stories after their ordeal.



Totally by surprise, I was picked up by a giant eagle this morning and taken to the tallest tower in the town. I then had to grow my hair incredibly long so that I could climb down again – eating cucumber sandwiches on the way. It was a long walk home.



Another day among the wood shavings at the feet of the ancient carpenter. In the circus ring I met the crepuscular princess with spiders dangling on silk as earrings and a picture of the Sahara on her navel. We both felt the heat of the t-shirt fire and both plunged our hands in the gold long ago taken from the foot of a rainbow.



A flower petal morning which quickly transformed itself into the centre of a giant unblinking eye. I was merely a mote floating across the lenses. Talking to myself while listening to others I jotted down the instructions for the life machine I had recently purchased. I was thinking about taking it back when the eye closed and I went home to become a lobster pot.



I had to go to London this morning. When I found it, seated on a launch pad of old rags, it was wearing a strange hat with feathers curling like claws. I held on tight as we all rocketed into the sky, me with my newly purchased network card in my pocket. Coming back to Earth, I smiled at a venerable old tree and it smiled back.



About Gerald Shepherd

Gerald Shepherd is a painter, graphic artist, sculptor, digital/multimedia artist, photographer, writer, curator and arts administrator. He has also been involved with science art, performance art, conceptual art, installations and environments (as well as peripheral creative pursuits such as garden design).
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