An unusual day as I was the middle course in a five course meal for the first time. I walked in a circle as I paraded with a team of seaside donkeys. I have now forgotten their names but I remember they were fluent in at least five languages. I came home in time to design a garden for one of the moons of Saturn.
My breakfast plate was a building sight as I pushed my spoon among second hand clothes and the fallen pillars of an ancient Greek temple. I had to rush to town to make a neolithic enclosure in the middle of a symphony orchestra, pushing aside the musicians as they attempted to tune up. When I attempted to erect the first round house I heard the opening bars of Walton’s first symphony issuing from my conch shell earrings.
I licked the dawn and put it in a stamp album; inviting Bugsy Malone to appear on the cover. My life is a showboat and I had to tie the rigging to the mast before I could go out to trespass in my own garden. Once among the girl tresses I kept my eyes open for voices. I could hear magical children sliding down the cloud sides as I remembered lifting every sheet of metal on the railway line to try and find lizards and snakes.
After a morning sleeping on an outstretched birds wing I went to the paper bag palace to roll around in bran sacks; emerging with one eye attached to a periscope I looked over the dentist’s wall and saw the smiling brickwork. During the dream time I had to tie string on a variety of wooden boxes – all of which contained a surprise.
I managed to see the fabled white horses today, after years of trying. Like an early explorer I saw big brown birds fly high over the forest – with the trees looking like oversized inverted beards – and I saw the bundles of stones left over from the giants battle. The sailing boats were as small as confetti and I imagined marrying the place. There would be a simple ceremony.
I was depressed as the procession of stuffed animals went by. I hitched a lift on the back of a mastodon and rode to the glass houses of town. The building was red hot by the time I got there and I burst into the room wearing a military uniform and holding a set of masks in my briefcase. The sentries kept guard on top of the crenellated walls as I walked home with burning coals in my pocket.
I skipped across the stones set on the plastic river bed (we had a large sink but no bathroom when I was a child) to the village long house. Once there I unwrapped myself, disentangled the laurel leaves from the live electric cables and went in search of the windows the old ladies looked out of. I went home carrying a bust of Voltaire.