The weather wasn’t as bad as promised in the dolphin only television channel I had watched as a toy fish. June went out with Roman lady from the early years of the Republic and I worked on the moist tongue of the garden before the doctor arrived in his bag (the garden refused to say ah). I had returned to my under wing study some time before June came home wearing a werewolf mask – I took it off to find she had a werewolf head. She howled like my conception of a Nineteenth Century politician while I made a coffee in the discarded boot of a one legged man. By the time we had both gone through the hold of a merchant ship sunk in the Second World War it was too late to go out for our walk. I painted a picture with a green sky and blue grass and the dog became a Red Indian shaman.
June and I were worried about Poppy, who couldn’t climb the stairs with her usual Anubis ease – although by the end of the day – when Diomedes had suddenly remembering his meeting with me before his battle with Ares – she had improved (we may still have a fight in the future which I am determined to win). I found it difficult to concentrate and visited a land where eyes form forests – they close in the winter months. June later told me she had visited a city of knitting needles where all roads are yarn. Diomedes returned in the evening with my best friend Athena: we all now believe that effect comes before cause and I pictured my maternal grandfather (who I never met) thinking of me. I was woken from this reverie by a giant lobster entering the house by its imaginary sea door.
June and I went out for a shopping bag meal. I pointed to the sky with saguaro fingers and she touched the ground with her desert shoes. She stayed in town after our meal of Tower Bridge eggs and River Thames chips (she also had doggie bag ham – Poppy who appears much better likes to share her meals) while I came home with the aim of writing like water but ended up painting like the surprisingly slow electrons in an electric light cord. The bulb hanging from the ceiling would eventually become the sun above striped pyjama fields and a second, or even third hand lake. The sky god protege in my head talks like rain and reasons like a deep lake – rivers supposedly issue from this and find their own way to the sea even though I haven’t yet heard back from them.
I talked with the sea sage turtles about spirits coalescing at night (using the bubble language we had invented between us) and then went to town with a small canoe round my middle. Try as I might I couldn’t find a stream to launch myself into. This was despite the glasses I was wearing turning conversation into strands of words and the man who talked backwards turning himself into a lost Leonardo manuscript. June was hoovering up television programs when I left the house and was knitting new ones when I returned. We both watched a programme about future antiques while eating a helicopter landing pad lunch; I joked we would find ourselves on it one day and would have laughed if a lady hadn’t rung wanting to climb into our gas cooker – I pretended it was actually electric.
I got up before the morning had pushed a note underneath the door and expected us to read it. June followed me downstairs with a globe for a head – I thought it looked a bit anachronistic, especially as it still included the outline of Atlantis just south of the Isle of Wight. I left the house as a Ptolemaic sun looking for another Earth to orbit. I later met the king (who moonlights as a king maker) and we spent some time together in the shade of a hedge which I would eventually trim into the shape of a pair of stockinged legs: they kicked in a cancan routine as I left to come home with one compass eye pointing north and the other due south (my mouth was a gyroscope keeping my tongue and vocal cords permanently parallel with the ground as it was in the time of King Alfred the Great.
I spent the day as an unknown continent (although the sea that surrounded it might have been a distant memory); marooned ideas lapping up on my multifarious coasts – incidentally in my imagination all beaches are made from bright pink sand. June had left the house early to explore other worlds in a ship made from hair bands and powered by someone else’s imagination. This left my continents’ indigenous animals to evolve into unique forms – I was particularly struck with the kangaroo that burrowed in the ground and a tree penguin that existed on a diet of HB pencils. I worked all day inside a can of tomato soup creating organic shapes from geometric beginnings and then attaching words to images as if they were autumnal leaves in a world of reversing time.
June and I woke inside pyramids (I was puzzled why hers was slightly larger than mine and would have mentioned something if Poppy hadn’t rode out of the bedroom on a camel). As the clouds were shaking each others hands – as distinct from wringing their own which is a sign of rain – June and I went to town to get some paper bags to store molten lava in. We had a meal in a restaurant that is now shaped like a briefcase (purportedly once used by the Queen of Sheba on one of her business trips) but once looked like a cave cut into the shape of an Apollo capsule. Unusually as June was planning to go shopping later in the hold of the Marie Celeste we came home together. I was carrying a tree that Charles the Second wasn’t able to climb and she had some bricks to start building a space ship from.