I went out early to see a man alone in a wooden fort (with hundreds of Red Indians camped outside).  We discussed the lines that shoot across a television screen when an angel sits on the aerial and the not well known fact that clergymen are actually gunslingers.  I swept back home like the opening scenes of an action film.  When I got in I just had time to put coins on eyes in an artist's studio and then had to go out again with a clock face replacing my head - I came home when my mouth reached ten.

June and I had to carry a marble sphinx to town; it carried its question and answer on a dog disk  All the people trapped in the animal house were reading musical scores or looking out of the window at the symphony of life.  I had a pebble in my pocket with my name on it (I would change pockets at the end of the over).  On the way home we posted a letter in the gibbon box and voted for a gorilla as mayor - he was the one playing a guitar on the television when an Easter Island head crashed through the roof.

I stood from early to late morning in a celestial alligator's mouth holding its jaws apart.  An almost constant stream of passers bye threw scraps of paper on the floor.  While waiting for a millipede to come and collect them I assembled them into a message from a glass bottle stranded on a desert island.  I wrote a letter to my friends in the clouds - I hadn't received a reply by the time I had to catch a train to a mid west ghost town.  I saw at least two ghosts trying to retrieve their six guns from the dust.

I spent the morning standing in a primeval swamp holding a collection of London street lamps in my arms, when the power supply was disconnected I talked to giant goldfish who were operating instead of taxis; one was in the middle of a row with an American tourist who came armed with Nelson's missing arm.  I had to go out in the afternoon with a mixed array of plastic piping protruding from various parts of my anatomy.  I returned home late in the day fully plumbed and with a stray spitfire stuck in my hair.

It was raining outside as I walked a long corridor with a carpet made from hair clippings.  My voice followed a little way behind and didn't catch me up until I took a battered Dinky toy car out of my pocket and blew it like a trumpet.  June was swimming in the sofa as I made my entrance as a raindrop.  After the dog had danced on the mahogany effect coffee table I retired to my studio like a dwarf retiring to his ancestral home in the middle of a mountain.  Unfortunately I then accidentally painted the cat.

When I came down stairs I noticed that the goddess Juno had thrown calendar dates on the floor and had jumped on all of them.  I removed the reticulated python I was using as a belt for my trousers and mopped up the numbers - I thought of the cloth that had mopped the brow of Jesus Christ.  We went out on the spur of the moment; I carried an apple and Juno carried the tree.  The shopping trip was only partially successful and I returned without the uninhabited island I had set my heart on. 

I picked up a newspaper from the early Nineties as June left the house astride a white dove.  I then painted the desert in many bright colours while she had all her hair cut off.  We discussed painting road markings on the top of her head until I remembered a book by Erich Von Daniken showing a series of giant animal shapes which could be viewed from space.  As the day light faded I saw my face reflected in a window looking like an astronaut who couldn't remember were he had parked his space ship.

I went out before seven dressed as a guitar; I plucked myself whenever the bus stopped and got off just before the bridge - the people with rainbow hair were obscured by low cloud.  I found the string man at home and we experimented with knots, I left completed tied up and with two landscapes under my arm (they were provisional landscapes for a provisional world).  I entered the town via a long sleeved garment and changed bags at the armpit; June was preparing to go out disguised as a vacuum cleaner.

I got up with termites infesting the timbers of my face - I scratched my head in time to the music.  June went out with a steering wheel hidden in her handbag and I looked in the mirror for clues to the murder mystery which was being performed all around me.  I later cut holes in the theatre set and watched a family of ants move to the high meadows of the wild west.  The ageing gunfighter had toothache and was standing in the street contemplating his next move when the credits were suddenly shown.

A little sprite entered the house via the chimney so we had to race round the house as fast as possible to try and catch her.  Everyone else came and went by way of the long mirror in the hall (only the dove people could enter through the wardrobe mirror).  I dressed up as a tree - my leaves slowly developing autumnal tints - and carried the little bird to see how the big birds wrap coloured lights in their hair.  We ended the day in a room of coloured lights with giant people moving and the sprite asleep.

We all got up late! I quickly wiped the smile off the bathroom door and took all our old stones to David who was still waiting for Goliath to arrive.  After the customary salutations I left as an Old Testament Prophet just as the Biblical flood was announced.  I rode home in a French Revolution tumbrel and let myself in with the dog's key.  June had recently taken possession of the remnants of purple birthday cake from a young girl who was balanced on our banister holding a cutlass.

I crept down the stairs just after the shadow of Isis had disappeared down the corridor.  Bugsy Malone, the cat, hid his pocket calculator as I waltzed by wearing a deliberately  informal garden hedge.  I put all my possessions in a disused bird nest and picked up a picture of three naked women on a beach.  This done I  spoke to Tim and painted designs on sand castles until my wife emerged from the washing machine.  We then swapped old clothes for new and took the rabbit to his weekly ballet lesson.

June left the house early; walking along the clothes lines until she disappeared behind a life size model of the Titanic.  Some time after I emerged from a prehistoric tar pit riding on the back of a sabre tooth tiger and then spent the morning in a goldfish tank sitting, for the main part, on a translucent plastic sea shell.  I escaped just after noon by travelling in an air bubble all the way up into  my studio - which was set up with kaleidoscopic lights and Marshall amplifiers for a Jimi Hendrix concert.

In my sleep I wrote film scripts using parts of my dreams, one concerned a group of insane people who acted as vigilantes and detectives - I woke as a being comprised of five distinct sexes.  June had, meanwhile, walked up the hill to see the people wrapped in silk cocoons; I remained in the Saxon village pondering pupation in Norman times.  The gnarled tree on the mantelpiece issued thought bubbles; in one was the image of James the first dressed as a witch.  I put a scrap of paper in the fire.

Having forgotten to post the letter I posted myself, arriving through the old man's letter box when it was still dark.  We sat and talked, me with a chipmunk on my head and him with a collection of Nineteen Sixties cookery books - I ate a cheese flan with scrapnel from a Second World War bomb. After filling my bag with grass I made my herbivorous way home, turning up as a Friesian (my wife appeared a bit later as a Jersey cow with a bell), rescuing a stray milkmaid on the way.

June and I had a lay in; watching a pride of lions circle the light before jumping in.  June wasn't feeling very well and went to a local football ground to be checked out as a centre forward.  I sat on the side line drawing trees on a football for a family of orang-u-tans.  I got a red card and she got the all clear so we came home via a meeting place for home sick leprechauns.  I cast a spell and spent the rest of the day in my studio croaking like a bullfrog.  June went out again in the evening.

I woke up suddenly and found myself pegged out on the clothes line, June having gone to work in a Greek trireme.  I fed the birds with antique bread crumbs washed up in my jacket pockets and then cleaned the steps to the family lighthouse.  While on my knees I spoke to our past neighbour as she flounced by with a small rowing boat stuck to her nose.  The occupants of the vessel had fallen out onto a map of the Isle of Wight and were waiting for the ferry to descend attached to a hot air balloon.

June and I moved apart on diverging islands drifting out into the Atlantic ocean (she doesn't like her soup too thick), I entered a bubble and travelled to an enchanted wood where the bird people congregated - from my perch I could see the world turn inside out to reveal its lining and washing instructions.  Our group of bandits cut down trees and lined them up in neat rows, pretending that a tribe of ancient Britons were closing in on the other side of the hill.  I phoned my wife and said hello

The polar bears stared at each other as their small packets of ice sheet moved apart.  I went back to sleep for five minutes and then jumped up dressed as Pierrot, running downstairs with pages of musical manuscript on fire in my pocket.  I put a trombone in my holster and waited for high noon - June came back at twelve thirty with a basket of wet washing.  We met like fiddler crabs on a warm tropical beach; the white clouds gliding overhead revealed the score of Beethoven's tenth symphony.

June went out early encased in a wooden log, I saw her float up stream in the guise of an early Red Indian.  While she was out I drew faces on my drum kit and manned the barricades during the Paris Commune - Poppy the dog had a quiet day painting in her studio (and got a lot done).  Once the meteorite shower had ended I ran out to get food for the extraterrestrial refugees; we ate chips and planned how we would celebrate the supernova.  I had extra vinegar on my chips.

I have temporarily kept my toothache in a box under the bed and played leapfrog with myself until the automatic doors of my studio slid open.  I spent most of the day on the bridge of the spaceship with the cat on my lap going in and out of sundry temporal vortices.  I took several deep breaths before I pulled the monster out of the disused well where it had been sleeping.  I then threw an alarm clock into the pit and went to work as the front part of a pantomime horse - coming home later as the back.

I travelled on a rich tea biscuit to a bungalow of scones and grass - I ate the scones and brought some of the grass home (I discovered a lost tribe of South American Indians in the latter).  My wife had disappeared down a teapot so I had to wait until the dog got in from play school before I could leave the house dressed as a sycamore leaf.  When June came back I turned over a new leaf and drank soup from a Seventeenth Century quill pen - I then wrote my memoirs with a cheese and pickle sandwich.

Stray arrows were still arriving from a reenactment of the battle of the Little Big Horn when I got up so I didn't venture out until I saw the conning tower of a nuclear submarine push up through the tarmac outside the bomb shelter house.  I spent a large part of the day painting portraits on the side of 312 kg free fall bombs while my wife trained phoenix birds to perform tricks in an aviary she kept behind the floral curtains in the living room.  Later on I poured water into my waterproof boots and went out.

I rode out of the house on a giant mouse (incidentally all the windows were wearing artificial eyelashes).  We went to a field were electricity pylons were taking up their positions for a barn dance, I tipped the fiddler and came back alone.  My radio earrings were picking up different stations; radio 3 in one ear and something really strange in the other.  I entered the room as June fitted up a complex system of pipes to her torso, I watched as messages were circulated by naked mole rats.

My wife and I spent the night inside a whale talking to Jonah, we both had a lay in and finally emerged like frogs from a pond covered with duckweed and having disassociated thoughts - such as establishing contact with an asteroid caught in the appendix of a Nordic Frost Giant while buttering a copy of the New Testament which had just popped out of a glossy white toaster.  I spent the day in the garden planting messages I hope to read in the Spring.  June cut a banana into pieces and then read a story to it.

I went to a hall with nine other people, one of which told us what to do.  After spending some time as a hill in the biggest county in England I took up position as a club moss partially knocked over by a newly emerged Devonian amphibian.  We had a forty five minute dinner break during which I phoned my wife (who was riding an albatross) and watched helpless as a company of frogs climbed out of my mouth and went on manoeuvres with weapons they found in an encyclopedia of Twentieth Century small arms.

I jumped out of bed and made several laps round Silverstone race track on top of a bar of mechanical soap; remembering where I had hid the secrets of the liquorice leprechauns as I did so.  Luckily I managed to hold onto an automaton composed of a multitude of  electric toothbrushes and came to a stop several frames before the film ended - I  invented a razor for fashion conscious worms as I watched the credits roll by.  I then had lunch in my studio; painting winking eyes on vegetable soup cans.

I climbed out of the margarine carton earlier than usual and walked the dog along a tight rope made from human hair. On our return a detached human head played the violin as I got ready for work.  After setting off the alarm I accidentally sat on a smiling face and stood up the rest of the day in an off licence.  When I came back I introduced the head to an airfix kit and they subsequently eloped to Gretna Green.  I had a lunch of unicellular organisms and then fell asleep on the living room floor.

Out early riding a paper dart thrown by a giant; I came back on a dragon's breath to find the hot air sprite sitting on a moving chair laughing.  We went to town to with a flock of wild fowl following behind - I pondered the protracted process of transforming into a tree as we grazed in the estuary mud flats.  Once back in our semidetached caves I became a submarine while the Nordic goddess I was carrying became a mermaid and swam into the seaweed reciting scribble poetry (which we had just invented between us).

I was a dog eared Pharaoh while June baked cakes in the Dead Sea, we both spied a little girl playing on the moon and went to fetch her.  The grandpa wizard hid behind a curtain as the war machines of the Roman Empire congregated outside.  Arial and I then found a track the urban fairies use while wandering to find relics of the human race.  The Moon Fairy raced in front as I gathered up the tribe of rhinoceros kings to meet in our underwater chambers.  I made sure I photographed the cakes.

I rode a Tyrannosaurus rex round the garden, picked up leaves, and watched the flaming asteroid descend.  Before the fireworks began I counted seventeen serpents in the sky and buried a very tall ladder (something I had planned to do from some time).  On the page where I drew a costume for the Grand Inquisitor I saw shadows of all the forgotten princesses that had walked the earth - each had to be numbered and catalogued.  I then went to work on a dinosaur egg while June put her smiling faces in plastic bags.

June got sucked up into a tornado, along with numerous recipes for mixing demolition site debris with mashed potato - I remained in bed as King Edward and changed the chambermaid into a replica of Jeanne Moreau.  It was still raining when I rose from the depths of Loch Ness with a plesiosaur as a neck scarf.  June came back later wearing a small detached house for a hat; we both watched a procession of bodiless boots and coats go up the road, supposedly looking for something they had previously lost.

June went out visiting Little Red Riding Hood dressed as a wolf, I pulled myself out of bed like a secret pulled out of a clam - at the time no one knew that the secret could only be read under water.  I used my clam eyes to see many different landscapes at once; in all but one the leaves had completely fallen from the trees.  I pulled the leaves off the last tree and arranged them like a family history, the oldest leaf was largest and had arrow wounds and a locket with a little acorn in it.

I had a real teeth embedded in a shop dummy lay in; holding onto a sleeping hippopotamus as a torrent of seaside rocks rolled by.  The floral curtain was pulled off the stone age television revealing an amorphous blob of organic matter which June kneaded into a multicoloured chrysalis (which a number of relatives could climb out of - their hands firmly planted in their trouser pockets).  Each of the rocks, now transformed into pebbles, had part of a word written on it - they formed sentences only by chance.

I had to creep out of bed like a child's toy on the beach of Normandy; I sat on the spinning top, my fingers coalescing into the webbed foot of a duck bill platypus.  The music box tableau hidden in the hat which floated several feet above my head rose to its own accompaniment.  A biblical character waltzed in trailing an infinitely long piece of string - I counted the number of vowels in the thirteen and half sentences she directed at me - she put all her cards on the tin plate drum - I cut the string.

I crawled under the front door (with a frowning face painted on one side and a smiling face on the other) and left the house with red, white and blue smoke issuing from my back pockets.  I spoke to the tarantula lady just before she disappeared into a small crack in a walnut tree.  I christened the tree Thomas and let the old man get ready for take off.  We both sucked straw in a countryman way as we walked to the launch pad - he went to Jupiter and I went beyond the outer limits of our solar system.

I had accidentally walked into a television and it took me some time to extract myself, pulling many coloured wires and stands of early morning television programmes out of my hair.  In need of a rest I put a china thimble in the middle of my cereal bowl and sat on it.  I managed to read my name in floating cornflakes before I emerged like the Creature from the Black Lagoon staring excitedly at his new mobile phone.  I answered the phone, but it was for my wife - I answered the hat and talked for some time.

I woke up swimming - a great white shark tried on one of my wife's blouses.  I coughed and all the blouses disappeared, replaced with a tranquil scene of sheep feeding on downland with a giant head peering over the horizon trying to clean his glasses.  I went out into the garden searching for the rose tinted rosetta stone which I had carelessly discarded while playing chess with a plastic gnome.  I wrote a poem on a dead flower while attempting to mend the hose and simultaneously offering a light to Joan of Arc.

I started the day shiny like a knife blade and I cut my way to the countryside where the sheep had arranged themselves on the memorial hillside like a packet of liquorice assorts.  I chose the one with the least liquorice (which I noticed was a little lame) and wrote a quotation from the Bible on its back.  The downside elves toiled all day trying to repair their own separate slice of past history, once over the last fence we found our way home along the laughter lines of our ancestors.

I was amazed, after an extensive interrogation of the mirror, that budgie man still had any pride left as his last piece of cuttlefish had just been stolen by prohibition mobsters.  He and I escaped from his cage (which admittedly does need cleaning) and took refuge in my studio.  June had walked out of the door several hours earlier balancing a large part of the Manhattan skyline on her head.  After setting matchstick men alight for some time I decided to mend the tumble dryer before she came back soaking wet.

June left the house early, like a bull chased by a rampant ballerina; I got up with a start and stared at the huge clock leaning over me. The minutes had arranged themselves like migrating birds assembling on telegraph wires and I remembered once plucking up the courage to ask one of the seconds out for a date.  As the clock hands flew away I tried to crawl into a painting which sat on the easel half finished.  June returned later, remnants of tutu still wrapped round her horns.

The morning was a half eaten apple as Paris still hadn't made up his mind.  I walked around the house counting the whiskers on elephant seals and wondering how many hearts could be fitted into a woman twenty five feet high.  June had been out all morning and much of the afternoon as I tried to make a parting in the mat in front of the fire.  When she finally returned she refused to drink from the horn that the god Thor had offered her and then went out again.

Out early for my weekly trip into a dog eared and foxed paper book (where it has to be said all my happy memories are kept) - I pulled lumps of grass out of the mouth of a chewing African elephant, pushed them into a cosmetic bag and came home dressed like Mati Hari.  Once back I shook my own hand and settled down to painting smiles on the garden tapestry draped down the slowly pulsating wall.  I invented a machine to pluck eyebrows before going out into the library like cold.  I read alone for hours.

June was feeling ill; I had a pair of bare legs growing out of the top of my head and looked after her.  While she was asleep I crept off to a secret world where people had up to fourteen mouths and countless eyes.  Once back, I jumped off a crouton into an asparagus sea while she stared into the bottom off a bucket hoping to see a dog still holding onto a joint of meat.  I became an old petrol driven lawn mower proudly sat in the corner of the bedroom as she slept though several television programmes in turn.

June was feeling a little better as we climbed down the rope ladder, examining the various knots as we did so.  One of the knots was shaped like a mouth and I imagined some of the secrets it had spoken - I mused on this dressed as frog lazing on a Weetabix.  Before I could construct multicoloured neon rhubarb for the millipede reunion ball I spoke to Billy in the pouring rain - he told me it was wet and I had the temerity to agree.  I wrote messages on toffees and listened to dogs and cats singing in their strange dialect.

June turned the house inside out and then played football with it; I watched from a distance, riding an ostrich (who read poetry in seventeen languages, including Cantonese) and gathering up twigs to make nest for a family of B52's who were flying around my mind.  I came in from the garden for a quick lunch strapped to the first stage of a space rocket - falling back to Earth much later in the evening clutching a bottle of wine and a plastic straw several miles long.

I said goodnight to my audience as soon as I got up; the cats had grown cow horns in the night and were contemplating herding together to mimic a Roman army as it drove up a hill.  I considered this as I stuck a couple of live geese down my trousers - June had already drawn road markings on the one belt that had enough holes to play an entire octave.  She wore her pyjamas while I wore my full armour from  the battle of Agincourt (this is the one with an FM transistor radio built into the front piece).

June walked into the room where I was practicing my yogic music scales with an array of postage stamps stuck to her face - she said she was communicating with dead aliens.  I had a few minutes whistling from an electric light cord like a blind musician before I had to manoeuvre down the road on newly purchased caterpillar tracks.  I come back much later, meeting June heading a column of angry peasants half way - we exchanged greetings, she gave me a garden slug and I gave her a giant land snail.

I had a placid morning sitting before the lake I had constructed in the back garden; I watched for snorkeling prehistoric monsters but only noticed several broken branches which had escaped from the tree penitentiary the night before.  I put the ruler back in my pocket and visualised where I would put the big tent.  I had a model railway track circling the brim of my hat so I couldn't lift it off when a member of the canine royal family walked back.  I barked my apologies.

I left the house before light, floating along the road in an upside down hat; I called myself Timur the unlame and my father announced that he was the new god of the canaries. We both sat on a perch for some time reminiscing about the B roads of Yorkshire.  When I came home I found June on her knees praying with a galvanised bucket stuck on her head.  I pulled it off and gave her some shallots to plant.  I subsequently  went upstairs, painted red lines over black ones and then swallowed a credit card.

June sprouted wings during the night and flew off from the roof top before I had raised myself out of the scallop shell I had been sleeping in.  I talked to Poppy the dog and she spoke to Bugsy the cat - when I heard the message again I found had declared my undying love to a butterfly bush in the garden.  June returned home on butterfly wings just after I had seen a man with eight heads pick up a piece of paper and put it his pocket.  I pulled seven small stones from my own pocket and made a wish.

I walked around wearing a clown suit, my shoes longer than an alter ego's pet crocodile, and spent much of the morning painting smiles on pieces of crockery (which I hoped no one would break).  June pulled a number of ornamental conifers and the remnants of a cold war micro wave receiver out of her hair before unrolling a map of the Eiger and laying several small figures on it.  I placed spare figures in differently coloured boxes and devised a game for two players in which nobody won and nobody lost.

Got up late (I had been sleeping on Tower Bridge and finally woke when the roadway started to rise).  I leisurely walked  round in circles making my resting place on the hot African plains.  Later as SuperGorilla I visited pixies with my invisible shoes making no mark in the soft sand.  While there I found a map of all the fairy roads in the South of England and imagined the route I would take on my barefoot walk.  When the dust had settled I coaxed a conger eel out of its hiding place and we had a long chat.

I pulled myself out of the hole in an acoustic guitar with some effort. This act wasn't helped by the policeman's helmet which June had tied to my head before leaving for work.  I then pondered the inconsequentiality of human existence as a steam engine ran up my left arm and then down my right, making several nasty stains on my shirt collar in the process.  I sat in my studio like the last dodo looking into a mirror - my brown study finally changing colour when my wife returned holding an open book.

June pulled the curtains back and I said hello to the procession of people ambling by with cereal bowls balanced carefully on their heads.  I put a crossbow from the Hundred Years War on my own head and changed into the chain mail which was laid out on the bed in readiness for our trip out.  We walked round the Crystal Palace holding lighted matches and watched the birthday cake being taken out to a row of people dressed in animal costumes.  The girl in the polar bear suit complained about the cold.

I waited for the postman to arrive as I was expecting a papier mache celebrity head made from the chewed up remains of tabloid newspapers.  In the end all that arrived was several fingernail clippings and a small part of periodontal ligament.  I stirred my tea with a scale model of a Pershing missile and arranged a pile of coloured cutout stars on the silhouette of an ex-president of America.  After lunch I climbed a mountain in the house and then tunnelled into the hot magma at my place of work.

I left early, taking care to replace my own ears with tabby cat ones, and raced a front garden wraith to the bus (the latter was late and without lipstick or eye shadow).  It was still dark when I put my stiletto spectacles in my suitcase and balanced as many slices of toast on my finger tips as possible.  The Welsh rarebit enthused about the forgotten language of the cock pheasant while I stuffed newly plucked grass down my top - I was ruing not wearing a brassiere when a cow arrived pulling a pumpkin.

I got up early again, mainly to talk to the electronic pigeon which had just landed through the 88 mm gun barrel entrance.  After we had communicated I had a shower in the mouth of a volcano, read the news over the shoulder of the minotaur and trod the secrets out of a vat of grapes - the blood like liquid oozed everywhere, turning the white face of the Phantom of the Opera pink.  It rained too hard for me to have my customary fly over the roof tops so I sat in my studio with an empty cat carrier on my lap.

As I got up the voice in my head was telling the story of a prisoner who found the key under the doormat.  I read my mail by proxy and regurgitated a childhood story to a family of golden eagles who were nesting at the point where the old house changed into the current one - this is the place where I did this and should have done that.  It was raining hard and I did simultaneous somersaults in both directions while buttering my canvas with margarine and marmalade and painting my toast.

The weather wasn't good enough to fly to the North Pole and back - watching polar bears cavort from afar like cotton bud puppets - so I locked myself away in the postbox I keep chained up in my studio (one day I hope to undo the shackles).  Alone in the morning I spent some time watching bright yellow circles slowly expanding on an otherwise dark mauve floor.  My wife came back later with another tin of paint - unfortunately I had to go out before I could paint a family of lobsters parading on blue green grass. 

I opened my eyes and found I was standing on a column in the middle of the Niagara Falls, feeling giddy I fluttered my one wing (only angels have two wings) but couldn't escape.  I then found myself on the floor of a cell in Colditz - which was busy working out plans of how to escape from me.  I never strung two images together all day and spent a very long evening sitting in a goldfish tank reciting verses from the Bhagavad Gita to a group of ascetic fantails assembled there.

Still ill, even the octopus I keep under my hat is feeling unwell.  I pretend to be lost in an unknown desert and find a cool crevice to crawl into.  Several completely new races of lizard are already there arguing over the dubious merits of various tabloid newspapers; I pull an apple out of my pocket, call myself Newton, and proceed to read it - inventing the language as I go on.  Wraiths rustle outside as I make statues of ex-presidents of the United States of America with my bed linen.

I got worse and had to borrow a pair of clean underpants from my friend the anaconda before I could go out to be examined - what to do with my other leg was an obvious inconvenience but I kept going manfully.  The man with a merry-go-round on his head wasn't as dedicated as I would have liked, especially when he found a stray chicken on my big toe - as I am a strict vegetarian we will interact only by subtly perfumed missives like Casanova and his tailor - I came home carrying an empty bottle.

I laid in bed until the extended fingers of King Canute almost touched mine before retreating into the lapping waves.  Dry land had a sandwich van on it, June removed the filling while I picked over the metal parts.  We also found several versions of the same song tucked in the lining of a coat I can never remember wearing.  I gave the dog a chew and then tried the coat on reciting the chorus in a number of different ways simultaneously - when I came to the bridge I threw dead leaves into the water.

The prism in my head reflected a rainbow in the room I reserve for a scale model of an early Indus Valley civilisation temple.  I watched the subtle changes of colour on the faces of spectators to an Eighteenth Century execution (luckily the condemned man got on the wrong train and never arrived) and the clock dials at the nuptials of an old horologist and his bride.  Later I rehearsed my new role as a recumbent Buddha while June went shopping in a spectral horse and cart.

I have lost my power of flight (I am hoping it is only temporary); I wanted to rise above the roof tops but had to make do with levitating several feet off the floral carpeted floor in a chair not known for its aerodynamic properties.  I sat under a vaulted pseudo gothic tower to watch tiny figures march along the horizon like bacterial cilia and then bathed in the light of a thousand  false dusks reflected from my collection of Victorian test tubes set among the roof tiles.  June went out for the evening.

After poking the imaginary fire with a stick shaped like a flamingo I hurried down to the Seven Dwarves shop to receive a badge and a small glass of pink champagne.  I curled up in the room for as long as I thought necessary and then came home, sucking my cheeks in as I did so.  I entered the house like General Wolfe climbing the cliffs of Quebec and then rearranged my papers as the dog stretched out as far as she could in the home we now call the weather house - June having gone out as I came in.

I cleaned my teeth on the roof top and then polished my head as if it was the parabolic mirror of a telescope.  Shining in the purple sun I climbed down holding a baby Pegasus in my arms; I let it go after breakfast just as the clouds formed a bridge for the blind supermen to cross.  June and I caught the train - she made notes as I held onto a packet of crisps, the beginnings of a play in my head.  We eventually caught the train home again, her with a string quartet of dolls and me with another packet in my head.

I was slightly disconcerted to find the house in the middle of a whirlpool as I woke from a sleep of glass shards on a patterned carpet - tied to the mast I scrawled out "mind the space time continuum" on the billowing sail.  June tidied up; I hadn't liked the amontillado sherry and the cat had crawled into the bottle waiting to be marooned on a desert island.  I called myself Robinson Crusoe and went to town to collect a box of Man Fridays.  Once home I walked the dog round the deserted house one last time.

I walked about with a white sheet over my head to frighten any spirits from the house, June meanwhile polished the furniture.  The owl on the mantlepiece said another word, the fifteenth this week,  although I listened I was more intent in removing a small robotic cat from the flight path of a huge bird that shadows the garden path.  I spent much of the day in the garden reassembling toadstool furniture which had laid idle since the summer - June laid provocatively on the bird table holding a mushroom.

I greeted June with an Action Man doll handshake and then decided to lick a book of stamps while she posted a page from an Ordnance Survey map on her chest.  We lit a Chihuahua dog firework and put it behind a group of Australian rules football fans who were congregating under the gargoyle posts singing hymns and then went to meet my sister off the train so we could put a collection of objects in each others bags.  I put a hot curry chewing gum into my mouth and chewed my good-byes.

I woke in a daze not realising that I had fallen into a late Victorian sewer system during the night; I pulled out a leprechaun torch and attempted to read the inscription on the twenty foot tall Wellington boots that stood among the Dresden like masonry.  June had gone to work and came back with an Eighteenth Century mail coach under her arm - we decided to let the horses go when we discovered all the passengers kept their heads in their trunks.

It was a very wet day but I still managed to invent a vertical hay wagon in which hay would be guaranteed to fall out of and blow away - I envisioned rows of wagons, their tall shafts glinting in the morning light, providing useful rendezvous sites for American GIs and their war time brides.  I lit a toy cigarette and nonchalantly stuck it in the rear of a Playdoh chicken which had just come alive on my desk.  June, meanwhile, found an area of unspoiled grassland in her handbag and planted a garden in it.

I pulled a random collection of semiconscious heads from under the covers as the giant windmill sail silently swished across the front door (June was caught tying baking potatoes to the breeding plumage of wandering albatrosses - she claimed temporary insanity). On cramming as many feathers into my pocket as possible I ran downstairs to see where a large fraction of the Mongol hordes had crossed the living room carpet - apparently near the spot where the winking faun mat used to lay.

The letter arrived which I had been expecting - our neighbours, who were an English branch of a family of Siberian hamsters, could be heard tearing up paper and using it to the line the inside of their nest.  I glued together several plastic arms to make a miniature pagan table ornament and then concentrated on reading the first draft of Napoleon's plan for the battle of Borodino.  I made notes and then decided to write poem in honour of sheep dip.  June fancied tomato soup but we didn't have any.

I slid round the morning room with my thoughts about the High Noon conservatory written on an old envelope.  The occupants of an oversized car that had been thrown in the back garden (almost knocking over the Freddie Mills bird table) ambled around in a trance like state as I tried to find a milk bottle to shout a secret into.  Wearing a greenhouse as a hat I sat in the OK Corral Pleasure Gardens waiting for the cowboys to arrive  Yellow face got off his bike and I walked home with my feathers on fire.

I left the house before it had woken up, slunk past the grotesque water spout where black and white comedians attached their hoses, and jumped on the third of the buses that had just arrived together.  The old man was buttering his head when I went in, I put a thin slice of cheese on top and we then sunbathed in the microwave.  I left as logs were thrown like troll confetti, I stacked these in a medieval alcove while Geoff tried to find a cable he could attach his Marilyn Monroe electric socket to.

I looked in the magic mirror and spoke to the person who had invented the icing rink hat - I blinked as an arm in arm couple glided round the rim.  Poppy wanted to walk along the runway as the hippopotamus jet lumbered in.  I exchanged visiting cards with the pilot of a one eyed camel, the steel girders in his hair glinting in the shafts of light.  After I came home from walking June, my pick slung over my shoulders, I fed the cats and then wrote hello on all the speech balloons issuing from a row of cutout people.

It was bitterly cold when I climbed into a car inhabited by a small family of penguins - we touched flippers and I then pulled a twenty inch plasma screen from my wrist watch and we watched the sky rain octopuses.  We arrived at the land of headless hats before dinner time; we ate on a dragon's breath roundabout and drunk on a black dung beetle roller coaster.  I sat on the Arctic to Antarctic train as the "Iceman" and subsequently melted all the way home - a hobgoblin was asleep in the fridge.

The ice people congregated outside the prehistoric stone circle as I toyed with the idea of making an army assault course in a sandwich box.  I lead a team of Nepalese sherpas to my ivory tour where I was stringing stone letters together to make stone words.  June came in half way with a flat pack version of Stonehenge - unfortunately we couldn't read the instructions properly and ended up with the main stage of a Mercury rocket which was too tall for our ceiling; a flower spike emerged from my cranium.

I stood at the front door very early in the morning and watched Grace Darling row up with a child in her arms; I played with the arms all day, finding hiding places behind lace curtains and counting numbers at the bottom of the sea.  We escaped to the surface in ladybird bubbles, me as a grisly old sea dog and her as mountainous region of Spain dressed in a tutu.  When the white witch touched the living room window I wrapped the bread and fishes in an Angel Gabriel blanket and said goodbye.

Had to get up early as the cormorants dropped in a flower meadow child to walk hand in hand with.  We stopped at the dragon cave and warmed our hands as the snow men coalesced on the frowning window pane.  We spoke to each other with white egret telephones and watched the baby mermaid escape from the egg sac.  I received a letter from the dog men and licked the envelope in return.  The glove puppets escaped from the hands as the weather got worse and weasel snouts emerged from frozen tisues.

The weather turned kinder while I was sitting with my friend Polyphemus feeling sheep bellies.  We had found an open book and contemplated what objects we could use to place inside; each of the little blocks had a girls face on it, some I had met when I was young and some, long ago, when I was older.  Much of the day was spent discovering empty pages or pages I never managed to completely fill up.  I raised a specimen bottle to the skies and mouthed a toast.

June and I tried to perform a complicated dance (celebrating the life of Xenophon and the march of the Ten Thousand) but, to our dismay, found ourselves pinned to white annotated cards in a specimen case -  June sat on her glasses and I spilt my drink.  After bathing in a witch's cauldron I was dragged to town behind a wooden "wild west" wagon; I reinvented the first machine gun as I did so.  We both arrived home at the same time, wearing antlers and holding a box of tissues - in June's case man size.

We went to the coast as trapped butterflies in a back of a car; a small house was strapped to the roof in which cans of lager were jumping about like agitated molecules at the birth of the solar system.  I left the car as Saturn, changed my mind and returned as Jupiter (holding a Christmas bucket and spade and Xmas flip flops).  The ice brethren had thawed themselves with laughter before I walked in holding an empty bird cage - the bird followed a bit later carrying a recently patented hair straightener.

I got up late, squatting at the entrance of a dark cave trying to catch fairy shrimps which had bred in the coffee percolator.  I poured myself a cup of tea from my top hat and sat down in a fairy grotto to watch plastic mushrooms emerge from a reusable supermarket bag.  After running a toy car up my front and round the top of my head I popped to the shops to buy the remnants of snow which had disappeared from everywhere else.  People in anti gravity suits were practicing yoga positions in deep space.

I had another lay in, nestled tightly between two recumbent mummies from the Fourth Dynasty.  They unravelled as I got up with a Dutch flower painting instead of a head.  I took the canvas out into the garden where I planted it after cutting a number of bamboo stems and making a pipe organ from them.  I was joined after dinner by a string puppet made by a secret agent called Imhotep and played a fugue as the sun went down behind a multi-storey cowboy hat that stood silently at the end of the garden.

I crumpled up a paper version of myself I found on the antique tile floor and threw it in the bin - this took forty five goes (mainly because the bin pulled up its long dress and ran every time I took aim).  During the commissioning ceremony June came in wearing a short skirt and a holding a collection of unread newspapers from the middle of the last century; I proceeded to read as many as I could before pulling the rowing boat onto the beach and removing three fluffy toys representing the three witches from Macbeth.

I left the test tube shaped like a Norman keep early (before all fifteen versions of June had lit their one candle) and went by three humped camel to the giant football house snuggled into, the admittedly dark, clouds - strange words were imprinted on snow flakes.  I dressed as Rupert Bear for the return journey and arrived with a forked tongue sensing the air for messages.  I worked in my bakelite tower for as long as possible - the gibbon held a cricket bat and I held two individually signed balls.

I got up early, June got up late.  I raced around the house followed by a shadow called Elisabeta.  I tended to a musical instrument made from medicine bottles while she removed dead flowers from their vases.  The rain was filling the silk stockings hanging from the deciduous trees in our neighbour's garden as I waited for him to go out before filling the dustbin.  I painted a face on the outside wall using dots representing the lives of individuals in a tumultuous world.  I went to bed early, June went to bed late.

I walked the plank from our archaic bedroom to the living room sea where a new species of coral was being discovered every few minutes - I painted portraits on crab shells (mostly from images taken from the American Civil War).  When the carnivorous clock struck noon we all went out, me wearing a lampshade instead of a hat and June wearing litter bins on her feet; I had meant to empty the bins but there was a giant frog in the dustbin - we sailed away on a giant water lily leaf.