A Much Earlier Weekly Diary


I woke up walking and I was half way along the plank before I took the budgie coat off the hanger and put it on. June and I went to short hair mountains where I worked in a cave. The afternoon was a grey wig and I surrounded myself with small pieces of paper with pencil marks on them. The rain later filled my bowler hat.



It was the day before Dragon Time so I took the opportunity to take all the captive crocodiles for a long walk over the eyelid bridges. I expected a message and had my trusty steed (called Fred) ready. I spent the afternoon in the planetarium making stars – I pretended I was one of them.



The wind blew like Stanley Spencer curtains. I put my possessions in one wellington boot and stepped in another. I spent most of the day as a rock outcrop in my studio along with my chimney friends. I talked to the one in the clouds about a model railway.



When I was unpegged from the clothes line I walked with the baby to the amoeba lakes – I was surprised to see the house of toffees and brown cardigans derelict and roofless. I missed my connection and was later found sleeping on a pool table. I had two pages of dry cider and then walked home.



It was an early start as Toad of Toad Hall and I spent the morning balancing mattresses on my head. I took a break for dinner and stood by the local railway siding as a signal – when my arms came down a train sped by. The afternoon was cut loose from its moorings and my ship (still with an unbroken champagne bottle embedded in it) sailed off into the secondary colours distance.



Poppy dog and I went for a long walk, holding the pristine spirits of all the water fairies I had ever met. We walked to the outside lakes where swords stand like water reeds and I tossed a coin – as it was heads I came home where a garland hung over a hole in the wall and my new mobile phone was shaped like a coffin. I paid homage to the wolfman.



Out climbing the filaments of temporal feathers in the morning. I rowed back, put my arms into as many glove puppets as I could and then dashed out again. After exchanging hula hoops I came home and saw my coffin telephone on my dinner plate. I spit out several messages.


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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