A Much Earlier Weekly Diary



Back on the convoluted race track of urban life. I raced along trying to feel my pulse as the hens cackled behind reinforced glass. I longed to replace street lights with wild flowers – using both common and Latin names. With some hesitation, I pulled out a card at random from my breast pocket and it read Venus’ Looking Glass.



We all went to the land of ships today. I drew lines round pebbles cast aside by retreating pedestrians while the babies stormed a castle. The door step, which I sat on like King Canute, murmured to itself in several different languages at once. I sharpened my pencil and cut a line through the brightening sky, the land subsequently unzipped and a knight of old came riding out holding a cheese and tomato sandwich in each outstretched hand.



I was looking forward to spending today in a subtropical garden but the weather was the dreaded dirty sheets on a rusty frame. I pulled back the bedding to see the outline of a figure. I put coins where the eyes should have been and went out to buy some milk – losing my umbrella in the process.



I got my cough back, after a week of only seeing it fleetingly as it ran to get a bus. I coughed my way to town and back, saluted the pixie girl and made a modern housing estate from scraps of old newspaper. When I got home I didn’t feel like working so I dissected the television and watched an earth worm. My old science teacher was called Mr Reason.



My cough has got worse, not only did I open my mouth and an express train hurtled out, but the white doves which traditionally form a halo over my head had been changed into raucous crows. During the day, I talked with the black crow girl about the future of Christians in test tubes.



On waking I tended my wounds received fighting the faceless hordes that crawl down the open curtains at night. I pulled an arrow from my side and watched it bleed. I needed to visit the Green Queen before noon and rowed a boat up the High Street – tripping over the rapids on my way home.



I was alone on the watch tower for the happy part of the day – I was high enough to feel sorry for the ants that scurried to and fro. I eventually pulled a jigsaw from my pocket and attempted to lose a piece – I was coughing too much to draw straight lines on a naked woman sat in the armchair.



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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