After a short time trapped in a pair of over-large dungarees making sculptures out of watch parts June and I went out.  We resurfaced in the Sargasso with hermit crabs for hats and proceeded to pull our crackers.  The whale shark had a sheriff’s badge and I had a pocket calculator which turned into a fish at full moon.  We spent most of the day in the bear cage with the other mermaids combing love darts out of our hair.  I heard the sea in an animated doll and hid under the table as the dragon turned the television over.  We didn’t like what was on the other channel.

I was hoping to lay like a piece of rope in the garden but June wanted to stretch me out between the doorstep and the town.  I finally got home with knots in my hair where snake eyes used to be.  I had just lassoed a Roman copy of an ancient Greek sculpture when she returned like Nike and wanted to catch a jet plane to a local restaurant.  We ate out meal below an engine pod as the dancers jumped like blue cows.  I came home counting werewolves in cardboard boxes and shuffled the keys in my pocket as a precaution before we reentered the house.

June went back to work while I hung on to a giant barley sugar twist watching the remnants of my bath water disappear down a slit in the maverick monster’s side.  Using an old fashioned telephone as ear muffs I strode out alongside a wolf pack as it searched for well documented anomalies in the Earth’s magnetic field.  I kept the paper crumpled as June resurfaced from the depths trapped inside a table top fridge.  I gingerly opened the door and put in a large wedge of cheese - as well as the mummified remains of an ancient Assyrian blue tit god.

I got up in the middle of the night to have a bath; herbivorous dinosaurs were grazing just outside the arrow slit window.  After pushing a snake tongue down the overflow I wrote “All my best friends are Neanderthals” in the condensation on my designer sunglasses.  When the day finally woke, June had already metamorphosed into a scots pine and I had taken several hundred steps down the side of a mountain.  I spent a happy morning recording extinct pterosaur song and then climbed up the mountain again -  meeting at the top my best friend Neanderthal.

June and I skirted the craters on the moon - she was intent on keeping the remains of last night’s dinner in the confines of her top pocket and I wrestled in my trousers for a comb.  I walked part of the way with a trombone wrapped around my head and came back followed by the skeletonised remains of a well known chamber orchestra.  Once back in the wardrobe I call home I grabbed the dog and we went out to look for signs that a steam train went through the hole in the hedge last night.  The first person I met had a cuckoo clock for a head.

I had to get up early, removing the ostrich who had pushed its head under the pillow, I dropped the dog out of the escape hatch and absailed down to a pavement in the front line at the battle of El Alamein.  I fought myself into the dirty green countryside where pockets of snow were still visible - I climbed Everest on one of these before talking about King Kong with the Great Ape God - I then returned home tucked in the train of a woman whose hat touched the roof like a birthday cake baked in the shape of the Tower of Babel.  I thought to myself in a multitude of languages.

June and I followed a porcupine up the road; each spine had a small umbrella attached.  I watched them wobble as it walked while the rain ran down my neck like the life saving serum in a sci-fi adventure - one drop stops the transformation into a beast that will live forever.  As the sky unzipped to reveal a navel I ran at high speed and then jumped over the roof of a modestly furnished terraced house.  I later took the wolf dog for a walk along a pirate plank; we each returned with a large boulder on our heads.  I danced with a grandfather clock as June came in late.

June went out with a Roman matron (I knew this because the stuffed cockatoo on her shoulder wore a band of laurel leaves).  The dog and I watched passively as a hookah pipe several hundred metres long rose and then abruptly descended again.  I looked down and picked up several partially decomposed sheets of paper - each with a design for a cubist corn dolly on it.  I then made a smiling face out of building bricks and looked down again.  The toy salesman pushed an arm through a cloud and we shook hands like Polynesian dancers wearing grass skirts.

It was Sunday and I woke on a parking meter.  After separating two small metal triangles I stretched myself out on the pavement like a street light shadow and then jumped over a car before it could pull a submachine gun out of an ornate spectacle case.  I eventually found out that the car was as long as the garden and I ceremoniously let a family of bald eagles out of the garden shed.  I had previously done some work in the shed before it became a suit of armour and I saw the Black Prince slowly approach, his hands hovering above his six guns.

June and I had to traipse up the side of a discarded beer bottle again, we crossed the bridge just as a train was swallowed by a giant bull frog, only to speed out of the tunnel again along a cutting surmounted by a row of plastic poplar trees.  I rolled up several sheets of paper and looked through the hole I had created.  The only person I could see had just finished making an eye on the ground out of rough pieces of flint and some odd bits of concrete.  The voices from the cavity between the two layers of brick were quieting down as I picked up the phone.

I saluted a Spartan on a monocycle as I carried a Hoplite handbag over the bridge to the flour mill.  June parted company with her shadow and I walked under the black sky with a very white face before looking over the edge - the salesmen and their clients walked nose to tail almost forming forming a passenger train coming into a station.  I left a bottle of yellow liquid with the lady at the Hornby OO kiosk and checked in at the spaceport.  After rejecting the advice of the figure in white I walked to town with a model of a coal yard in my hands.

The hillside blinked as the rain came down like a curtain of exquisite wine goblets; I managed to catch one and filled it for the dog - who was walking alongside the wreckage of Luftwaffe aircraft that Paul called the Dead Sea.  I spent the early part of the day wrapped in rabbit proof fence plucked like eyebrows from the Australian interior and then when June came in I spiraled into our alternative reality living room shaped like a strand of DNA.  A toy skeleton scraped the window as I scraped a plate and made a carpet out of frozen peas.

I got up early to climb into the barrel of a cannon for my flight into the plastic countryside on a model railway (I thought the giant face peering over was the sun).  On the way home the chariot broke down moments before I remembered the name of Phaeton and jumped off clinging onto my bags.  Back in the control tower I talked about mining the centre of the Earth with June.  June sat on a cheap plastic chair as it slowly spinned in opposition to the Earth’s rotation while I sat on the ground with the delicacy of a bluebottle finding the very last cowpat.

I couldn’t go down the lane with the hands of ivy emerging from the wall (the werewolves were roaming before the darkness finally disappeared).  I held onto the dog as the life buoys rang by.  The person behind the counter was wrapped in a cigarette paper and looked like an Egyptian mummy - I commented on her nails that were patterned like a rattlesnake.  Thinking that everyone should wear old fashioned telephones in their hair I went back home pulling a small ocean liner behind me.  I picked up the cat as the life buoys ran by.

I spent the morning in an old shoe; the foot had run off with a bicycle wheel and the glove waited for a helicopter to land with casualties from the Korean War.  June was wearing cabbage leaves as ears and I took a hat off the cat so the dog could use it as a aircraft hanger - the aircraft landed sometime later with a chicken beak for a nose and a lighthouse for a tail.  After answering the door to a couple of stick insects I pulled on a cord to make the light work and then read the map on my hand - the people, as thin as skeletons, had torches tied to their foreheads.

I had a lay in on a pirate’s plank, only getting up to put the telephone in a sand bucket.   I could hear the birds singing outside but I stayed within a size nine shoe box until June had cleaned all the bathrooms in the Alhambra.  I then walked to our bathroom covered only in mud (Poppy the dog was playing on her drum kit at the bottom of the garden and the cats had placed paper bags over their heads - I later pencilled in mouse bristles).  After lunch June went out to visit some chickens who had recently moved in down the road and I clucked on my own.

I got out of the fire and then the frying pan in quick succession and then found myself as a number in a waiting room.  The young girl in the giant panda suit came and got me and we talked about being pinned to a wall like an entomological specimen.  I pulled myself off the ornate wall before the steam train arrived in the station - I celebrated my release with a cup of tea - and then the train went on to break the world speed record.  I walked the dog to the enginel shed behind the cinema where the sorcerer was mixing spells in between mixing the weather.

I spoke to the ghost under the bed (the same person who had already hidden my model railway controller) before walking June to work - she was pretending to be Marie Antoinette and I was found to be the Marie Celeste.  After dressing myself in a lifeboat I walked through a field of a kale in the guise of a sandy coloured rabbit; I didn’t notice until later the faceless person holding a stethoscope.  Just before the scorpion lady returned from lunch I flew up to the window ledge and talked to the ventriloquist’s dummy who had been up there for ages.

It was a colder morning than of late and the large smile rent into the fabric of the road was glinting in the moonlight.  Having earlier wallpapered my own teeth I slowly walked down the hill with a bucket full of dentures and arranged them like flints around a dead flower in a Neolithic child’s garden (I can still see the Neolithic box tree with camp near the top).  The wooden bird in my hat emerged on a spring and then retreated again with vague memories of the battle of Borodino.  I flew up to the window ledge again, traced the clouds and talked to a pair of doves.

I got up even earlier than usual, June had disappeared down a crack in the floor boards and I had to prize her out using using a number of pre-decimal coins.  She rose out of the depths with a thimble on her head and I went to catch my bus still holding a paper drawing of the postman.  After spending time with the Gentle Giant (who has a pet scorpion with a penchant for Led Zeppelin).  I came back in time to remove the postman’s drawing of me from the post box.  I walked the dog before taking down the huge mushroom which had grown through the roof.

I had spent the night in a mouse trap eying up the cheese; I got up before the cat lady had finished her bath.  June got dressed in an old sack and I followed her to her place of work.  We crossed a trembling bridge and went through the harmonica gate - a chariot was standing in front of the double doors (both of which were locked).  After reenacting a dance called the cosmic witch hunt I buried into rotting timber like a termite and then squeezed myself out of a paint tube as the radio played classical interference. We went to town and then came back again.

It has been a rather stressful day, especially after I found the skeleton of an extinct form of dove in my mouth and my jaw bone had swollen up (after the criminals locked inside had sung a moving rendition of Ave Maria).  I couldn’t concentrate on my task of moving the reptilian sheep from one pasture to another preferring instead to hang from a parachute in the upper Venusian atmosphere.  June developed caterpillar tacks instead of feet and moved to town slowly like a Saturn Five moving to the launch pad.  I followed her some time later like a rocket.

Another bad day!  A row of cadavers remain propped up in my oral cavity (along with a collection of medieval instruments or Japanese copies - hard to tell) and the lighthouse protruding from my top pocket steadfastly refused to shine.  In desperation I looked through the budgie’s collection of ancient manuscripts in an attempt to find a way to remove the china sea urchin which was securely attached to my head, instead I found a recipe for cooking with the absorbent liners of old boots.  I decided to put my meal on and went out into the garden.

When the yacht sailed out of my open mouth I went outside clutching a plastic dinosaur and looking for my Cretaceous homeland - instead I found the dentist dressed like the Great Pyramid of Gizah (I commented on his resemblance to the dorsal fin of an ichthyosaur and he gave me a mix of flower petals in a paper cup - which I put on my head and waited for the tide to come in).  After swimming in the Dead Sea I found a shop which sold empty bottles.  I admired a large green one which was shaped like a cutlass and filled it with discarded vertebrae.

I crept downstairs from the giant bell I had spent the night in just before it rang out for the mariners who had accidentally found themselves many miles inland.  June had left the house without telling me so I had a flying saucer for breakfast and then went out on the lion’s mane parapet.  Three suns were shining and I pulled the crumpled bicycle firmly down over my head while taking a spare parts catalogue out of my pocket and beginning to sing.  A millipede as long as next door’s garden ambled by as I tried to learn my lines in front of a can of hairspray.

I managed to climb on the bird of paradise’s wing today and lifted off over the telegraph poles and their strands of conversation.  June made a call and I answered with at least two scarves round my head.  I followed the map written on a large birds egg before coming in to land in an old well (I designated it Number 37).  After this I waited for a man to arrive to take the hand of my friend Hieronymus who had spent the morning silently watching some adults grow into children.  I then went out again to find another man I knew called Bosch.

I went out very early, crawling along a concrete pipe until I saw daylight in the shape of faun holding a mirror to its face.  The old man of the forest was sitting on several slices of bread when I arrived at the staging post - the lady next door pushed a paper okapi through the letter box and I looked up its family tree in the jungle library.  I had some time when I returned to sleep in an Iron Age hill fort before swimming to town followed by a number of sharks wearing bowler hats.  I inverted a hat and sailed home, discovering another continent as I did so.

I managed to walk up the road with a tenon saw stuck in each pocket, I reached the top of the hill walking like Clint Eastwood and gave June a cat biscuit.  The cook was standing pinned to the door with smoke issuing from one eye and both ears; I posted a paper dart in his letter box and went back with the remnants of a meal.  Before I could immerse myself in the aquarium I call my studio Poppy wanted a game of football, she scored several goals and I found a message written on a blade of grass.  The guinea pig was reciting Tennyson when we got back.

June has got a cold and when she finally got up I was sitting on a large piece of seaweed (a species of bladderwrack I believe) several miles from land.  I got a lift to the alien garden in the mouth of a jumbo pelican and found a small number of pottery shards taking lessons from two sentient chimney pots.    After a short period growing reptilian feathers I remade the urn and took it to a shop keeper to sell.  I looked at the sweet shelves in front of the counter and found a coin - the blindfolded guitarist played a tune as I came back via a psychedelic paper chain.

30/01/11:

31/01/11:

I am still suffering pain from my absent tooth (picture: Theseus sailing away from Naxos).  June went to work in a chariot pulled by several dozen harvest mice - I walked behind.  I later found a giant hair do in which I could build a house and when settled inside started a production line for winking eyes.  Poppy the dog (called Doge in a picture by Giovanni Bellini) insisted on wearing a small prefabricated house behind her collar and I decorated the roof with toffee wrappings before going out to find a bunch of carrots to hide in a washing up glove.

I had to go up the road dressed in a costume of empty egg cartons; June said very little even though she was followed by a group of chickens wearing long macs.  Later I walked along the monorail alone, both hands in one pocket and both eyes looking through one lenses - I pretended the dog was a unicorn before undressing and bathing with a narwhal.  I took a long time unwrapping a package in the high tower and then took even longer wrapping it up again.  By the time the archeopteryx had learnt to fly I had waltzed round my tower many times.

I was up very early again, emerging from the barrel of an Eighteenth Century highwayman’s gun and shouting bang at the top of my voice.  I counted individual pieces of gravel as I migrated West where the weather was colder and the people kept empty biscuit boxes over their heads.  I had a couple of pieces of cake with the old gentleman before returning, riding on a third - I got off when one of the currants got a puncture and waved goodbye to a crowd of crows resting on the roof.  Once home I crawled in a sticky plaster box and waited for a wound.

I spent part of the morning as a wheel on a wagon in the Wild West; June had come off very early and was last seen rolling down the side of a hill followed by several dwarves holding their hats high on telegraph poles.  I said good morning to a family of earthworms and then burrowed into my studio where I painted grass and other vegetation.  I had a little time in the early afternoon to watch a meteor go overhead in search of more dinosaurs to make extinct and then went back inside to complete my field - June came back with a herd of cows.

June, who was sat on one side of a seesaw with the engine from a Model T Ford on the other, decided to go out for the day.  I waved goodbye as she went up a road patterned like an anaconda.  Once she had gone I curled up in my nautilus shell and contemplated an entire galaxy that had suddenly appeared on my navel.  I was roused by the arrival of a man with a blue face, he measured the dragon’s teeth and then walked off with his stethoscope dangling.  I returned to holding a model village in my lap while strands of unreality floated by.

I sat on a plate thinking I was a fried egg before rolling out into the garden.  I saw a frog under a flower pot and we passed each other a note - he then blew smoke rings and I picked a flower.  June wanted to go to town and I packed as many tea towels as possible under my hat for the journey.  I left her standing on a bridge as a submarine floated underneath with a flag of Sunday papers fluttering in the breeze.  I made a flag of my own out of scraps of wood and then nailed someone else’s colours to the mast.  June returned dressed as Boadicca.

June rode off to work on a centipede which I had found lurking at the bottom of the garden, I spoke to a slime mould and then went back in the house.  I had to bend several sticks together to make a bower and then came out to display (I had previously painted the cat and held it to my face like a beard - only stopping when the postman delivered a small ocean liner in a plastic bag).  After sowing wild flower seeds on my studio floor I cultivated the garden inside my head for the rest of the day.  June returned as one of Boadicca’s daughters.

I didn’t sleep very well; putting on an expensive jacket and then watching it become invisible.  I walked June to work as the invisible man and then walked the dog as a hooded crane with pink spectacles.  I took my glasses off to paint and filled in a series of hills that receded into the distance like a sea serpent.  One of my ancestors, who was a stick insect and resides in a glass case, entered one of my day dreams just after the flower patterned sofa took off and headed for deep space.  In an idle moment I made a house out of a giant cream sponge cake.

I had to dance on the head of a pin before hopping down the street with strips of torn newspaper instead of ears.  June swallowed a crocodile and swam up the Nile as fast as she could (followed at a discreet distance by two robotic girl guides and a disembodied mouth)  With a windmill on my head I set sail for other worlds, below me people had wire netting heads and their houses fluttered in the breeze on flag poles. Standing on tiptoe I drew the shape of a man in a passing cloud - it subsequently drew me - we exchanged cobwebs and I came home.

I was up and out of the house very early, travelling on a mobile toadstool (fly agaric complete with fairy driver) out into the shark fin countryside.  I lifted my hat and rain poured from a cloud I was using to keep my head warm.  I had a meeting with a hibernating bear before emerging from my space capsule as the rain got harder.  The people with church spires for hats congregated at the bus stop as I went through my pockets to to see I could find the newspaper cutting about a painting that ran off with an artist - they are believed to be living in the Scilly Isles.

June was wearing a Groucho Marx moustache when she went to work (I had rolled up my beard and used it as a bed for a family of rodents who had just escaped from a Neanderthal cave).  I watched her disappear up the drive closely followed by a contingent from the United States Seventh Cavalry.  The dog and I walked several feet above the ground as an experiment after which I climbed up into my studio where I mixed paint like the ingredients of a Hungarian goulash; cooking a meal on the canvas which then skulked off when I wasn’t looking.

June went to town (even though I told her it was built entirely out of old newspapers).  She eventually read her way home while I sat on a box of pretend sardines staring at a computer screen - after a while all I could see was two eyes staring back reminding me that June had just been photographed in a dark room wearing sunglasses.  At that point a pair of glasses knocked on the door and then marched in carrying the shopping.  I contemplated learning to swim in the dog’s bowl but instead went back into my room to see if the computer had blinked.

The bucket was found to have holes (Dear Eliza) and the pet fish had railway couplings attached to their noses and tails so they could form a pullman train in the space where time itself comes into being and almost immediately ceases to exist.  I ponder a place where nothing changes and June travels up through a hole in the ceiling to feed the nursing home cat.  It was too wet to tread grapes in the garden so I built a dungeon under the floorboards and put all my old toys inside it.  A yacht with several aliens on board was sinking though the coffee table.

I couldn’t disengage myself from a hair brush which had become firmly attached to my scalp in place of hair; I put on a hat (which for some inexplicable reason had something akin to a live chicken running about on the top) and went to a Venusian hillside to post my letters.  I returned just in time to see the pirate’s wife pushing a stocking full of groceries through the letter box - I opened the door with a raw carrot and went inside.  Once inside the palisade I could concentrate on painting foot prints on the ceilings while the cat wrote its memoirs.

June went out alone quite early in the morning while I made a model village in the bed and then ran out of it as quickly as possible.  After eating breakfast from a bowler hat I built a forest in the middle of a desert and then preceded to hide a camel in the middle of it - I can’t remember if was a bactrian or a dromedary.  June was late home so I took a bath in the new kettle and then found one of my Iron Age ancestors lurking behind the tumble drier - I was stark naked and he was dressed in a suit and tie - he showed me how to make a wooden round house.

June and I decided to be polar bears and we ran up the road with penguins on our backs - she won the race so I came back smoking a fish cigar.  I had to find a carrot for the rabbit and wandered round the back garden looking for volcanoes.  After this I walked the dog along the pelmet and climbed down the drapes into an unknown living room where someone I didn’t know offered me a cup of tea - I held onto a biscuit like it was a life belt then rolled up a newspaper and fed it to a sea lion.  I had made four skies by the time June had returned home.

I had a very early morning and crept out of the vault into the lunar plain countryside.  There was still a trace of H.G. Wells frost on the ground and I had to walk on bricks thrown down by a master builder.  I entered an empty room and listened to a voice emanating from an ornate armchair - I answered by speaking into a standard lamp and then pulled a six foot long piece of spaghetti out of my pocket.  I said good by to the the Lord of the Spiders and came home by smoke grenade followed by hundreds of people with time pieces instead of heads.

I woke up after a Frankenstein monster birthday celebration which only happened inside my head.  The snake lady had gone off with a wild boar before June’s alarm had sounded and an ancient species of whale (sadly long extinct) rose before I did myself.  The dog wanted to start a stamp collection so I went to town to get some sawdust and a bale of hay.  June then went overhead like a meteor crashing to Earth and set fire to a field some way in the distance.  I put her out late in the afternoon and we then settled down to a meal of empty packaging.

I spoke to the frogs at the bottom of the garden today then carved their reply (studiously translated) in a rock that the troll children could through at shop windows in my nightmares - I’m trying to wrap an empty box but perpetually can’t (until I fill it up - it doesn’t matter what I fill it up with).  The small train travelling round in an exact circle on the church of art floor tells the time.  Curiously I finish painting the hills in the distance at roughly the same time as I find out the real name of the strange creature who lives in an ex Gestapo jack boot.

I meant to walk barefoot in the snake garden today but the little sea dog came onshore and we played among the seaweed for much of the morning.  I sat in my submarine as the servants walked by with presents for the new goat god and then escaped through a long tunnel into a place of butterfly koalas and flower leopards.  From the conning tower June and I could see the kitchen with the strange white being crouching in the corner; I called it Samuel and she called it an ambassador of the Ordovician sea forest.  I blew a whistle and we called time.

I got up early for no apparent reason other than I felt like it.  While pondering this I noticed a family of tree fairies had taken up residence on the bedroom lampshade, their antics distracting me from the mental process of turning a python on the ceiling into the portrait of a girl looking into a mirror.  I remembered the story told to me by the paperback lady about the old satyr who covered its reflection with dead leaves; I looked through my own dead leaves and found only an ornate hair brush (no longer needed) and a map of the London underground.

I crawled out of bed (only a bit earlier than normal) wearing a hat so tall it rubbed against the ceiling; the dog had already gone downstairs - after surreptitiously eating the cat food - and was smoking a Red Indian peace pipe when I sneaked up on her pretending to be a drunken leprechaun.  She reciprocated by forming a phalanx of hoplite soldiers using herself and sundry pieces of furniture and I became a picture on a wall; my beard touching the floor.  I spent much of the day connecting up the dots in the sky and eventually making a face.

I stood up (higher than a block of flats) playing a flute; June had gone to work, after commenting on my wispy beard and the two horns which were beginning to appear on the top of my head - wearing two hats I managed to go out without anyone noticing.  Once back in the medieval hall I drew clouds on the glass and then poured water inside.  The invisible man, who had been living under the bed, was caught reading the memoirs of a sea serpent and I pretended to push several dozen novels down the back of my t-shirt and then called myself names.

I was out very early, walking along an uncurled chameleon tongue to a portal of black and white photographs.  I crept into one photograph and then crept out again; resuming my normal colours some time later - when I did so I had one leg in England and one foot in New York (attempting to play a grand piano with my toes).  I came home wrapped in cling film and immediately stood in the doorway with a letter box in my midriff, the dog barked several times but the postman never arrived - even though a woman with feathers for eye lashes walked by.

June had become invisible during the night and all I could see by the morning was a steel claw; the dog had smudged her lipstick and had also knocked over an entire row of electricity pylons.  The light went out just as an invisible being went out the door.  Later after a chequered cloth had floated to the ground I went out in search of  a field of ears to speak to.  I dressed  like a Romano-Briton, looking to the left to see a ferret asleep in my Wellington boot and to the right to see a cobweb on the flashlight lense.  I returned some time later like sheep wool.

Before the sabre tooth tiger had changed the bed I pulled the mammoth hair from my eyes and swam into an ocean of grey clouds. June had gone to see a panda in full colour so I spent the morning looking at old photographs.  The afternoon was pinned like a faded cloth underneath a bridge (I could hear the traffic rumble overhead and imagined my self in a World War Two film). I took one last look at the theatre of laughs backdrop and then pushed myself into a suitcase for the long slide home.  I watched a lady go by dressed as a cake.

After stuffing a copy of the Venus de Milo into each Wellington boot I took my vacuum flasks to the forest where the infamous Mud Man broke sticks with the crease in his collar.  I spoke from within a bush and they listened from inside holes in the ground - we then reversed the process and I ate a cheese sandwich in a rabbit warren.  Counting the loose change in my pocket I flew back to the railway station to watch the mother train remain on her nest for some time.  I finally coughed myself home carrying photographs of my childhood.

Back to the old routine: I stood up in a dark tunnel but could not touch the roof.  June had already left the house with her wings crumpled up and covered in cling film so I found a large key in my pocket and walked the dog - we existed for a short while in a free range egg box (holding twelve eggs).  While standing exactly in the middle of a lighthouse memories of now gone people emerged over the horizon pushing a variety of objects - including a petrol driven lawnmower with Donald Campbell clinging to the top.  I put an alpaca to bed.

I painted one half of my body white and the other black, had a bath in cold water and then went out to find a zebra crossing to commune with.  June had shouted from the top of a mast that the tumble dryer was coming so I remembered all the toys I had as a child and then packed them away.  A white egret replaced the postman, knocking the door just after the dog had finished her algebra lesson.  I said a prayer for all dogs who live at the centre of the Earth and then curled up in some dry leaf litter.  A strange man entered talking of ornithological earrings.

I was busy first thing designing a spacecraft for myself and the cat, when we crashed landed I settled back to reinventing the pyramids and looking through photographs of myself before I had a beard.  This reminded me that June wanted a lawn planted where I had arranged broken flints in the shape of a mouth, nose and eye (I buried myself in a barrel of sawdust while contemplating this).  June was late returning from the sauna in the hold of a sunken Spanish galleon so I taught the dog to foxtrot to fill in the time - later the fox learnt the dogtrot and tango.

The ogre bus turned up just in time as I was waiting in the Indian reservation before the cavalry came.  After being dropped off at the edge I hid in a water bottle and then flowed to the little house on the prairie where I reminisced on stage - all the seats were occupied by old photographs.  After chatting with friends in a bird house I put the playing cards in my pocket and came home, arriving as a tall chimney in constant fear of being demolished.  I noticed that sharks had moved in down the streets and the postman was now a jelly fish.

I had to discard my fairy wings before I left the house this morning, slamming the door in the breakfast cereal packet and acknowledging the strange beings with strawberries instead of heads.  I stood on the top of the hill (ignoring the front door - number 37) which had mysteriously appeared next to me; the dog was tucked up in my right hand pocket and one of the cats was playing with my watch chain in the other.  I drew a picture of a bearded man with hedgerow for hair - when I spoke to him later he claimed to be a distant relation.

I examined my head thoroughly after rising to see where the tractor had ploughed furrows during the night - in a book on my bedside table almost fifty years ago the rooks followed the tractor in an early Spring morning.  I got out of the house quickly intently aware that my arms had fish scales and my thought bubbles were now visible.  I watch an old lady watch the Help! bubble float over the railway line just before a train closed in on the station.  I pushed both hands into pockets as the doors slammed and June floated over my head holding a cat.

June and I both lay like fish on the white linen shore.  I was the first to metamorphose, fish scales ascending in air currents until they formed fingers pointing down.  I had to find a bulb before I could find the switch and went without dinner as the plastic people sat down to their plastic meal.  After our non lunch June and I both trawled through the leaf litter in search of promises jotted down on shreds of paper.  I found the first one and stuck it the screen with borrowed saliva; June found the second and talked to the palm tree next door about casting shade.

I saw the fire birds fly overhead as I lay in bed.  I got up some time after June had raced a white swan up the hill.  I gathered up my thoughts and put a collar on them, after our walk I burrowed in the garden where the previous occupants had stockpiled their false noses.  Later, I sat in a clockwork tugboat as it circumnavigated my studio, only bailing out when words began to fall from the ceiling attached to parachutes.  June took me by surprise when she let her self in the front door, pulled a guitar out of her apron pocket and proceeded to blow it.

I went out on the dog chew train, arriving some time before I left.  The giant heads stood in two rows and I painted my toe nails purple before the train went into the tunnel.  The man had to open the gate for me and I flew in on a zephyr dropping painted faces into letter boxes arranged like magistrates.  I met the flower ladies and then pulled a horse and cart over the bridge (brightly coloured snakes streaked by underneath).  I came home by express, sitting like a dog biscuit in a bowl.  My wife growled when I came through the door.

I had to go to town to get a house for the colony of ethereal beings who have just moved in.  I found one with the right number of slots and brought it home slung underneath a group of passing fairies - They spoke to me in a number of different languages.  I returned to my house atop a pencil about noon, several survivors from a two dimensional war (only one of whom was called “paper Face”) were waiting at the door of the rabbit warren citadel.  My imagination finally pulled its socks up as the robot at the fence pulled its trousers down.

I left the house early, slowly unwinding my old school tie.  I went to see the old master who showed me small people encased in dark plastic - I held a candle to the window.  I left the lighthouse before the man and woman met like colliding solar systems and travelled home in the footsteps of another.  I had to go out again almost immediately, classical music issued from my hat floating several inches above my head while I floated several feet above the ground.  On my return from the frog swamp I sat in a dark room - I held a candle to the window.

I dived in the ocean that extends between the bedroom and the top of the rickety stairs, resurfacing sometime later pushing a trolley along a white corridor.  June took a package from me and attached its wings while I pulled my skyscraper hat over my eyes and imagined myself back in the jungle - in the middle of the jungle there was a pit and eventually everything ended up inside it.  After piling enough books on top of each other I managed to enter the room where I work, the small window in the far wall had a view of a foreign land.

Before I even got out of bed I taught myself to play the ukulele underwater while submarines (piloted by farmyard chickens) danced a galliard.  The other person in my dream sucked in water from her flute and emerged from a sea shell in the barren ground behind the greenhouse.  I put a record on only to find it didn’t match my shoes, I then sung a song in bare feet.  I planned to come in from the purple garden but stayed until the purple sun went down - June showed me the dress the dog had slept in and we all then ate our dinner under the table.

Some time after sleeping in the middle of the sun June and I disembarked from different space ships (both shaped like flamingoes) and met in a living room surrounded by an auditorium.  The frozen audience clapped by the means of mechanical apparatus - I fed the tiny characters at the bottom of the garden without ever knowing what play they came from. After a non lunch we both went out again, she to talk to empty clothes and me to lay a table on a race track.  When we met again we had to eat our dinner in seconds or go without.

June went out inside a saucepan before I had peeled myself of the kitchen table.  I finally considered it expedient to do so as I was in danger of being picked up by a passing slime mould.  I spoke to Bacteria Man on the telephone and after a long pause he spoke to me.  We discussed my plans for opening a bed and breakfast beneath a hot air balloon.  I didn’t have time to get the sheep in as I had spent all morning writing letters; however once the water meadow was ready we all jumped into it - by then June had returned home driving a frying pan.

After shaking the hand that emerged through the bedroom floor I got up, supported by two brightly coloured macaws.  I said goodbye to the jungle in my head and took the dog out along the waters edge - people cut out of yesterday’s newspapers lined my route (I threatened the largest one with fire).  Once I returned to my lily pad I added colours to the leaves that descended both sides of the young girl’s face.  The blue line that appeared on my own face during the afternoon gradually got bigger and I stood in the blue corner as June signed the armchair.

It took most of the morning to remove the cobwebs that were covering the top part of my body.  I then had a quick lunch of cardboard packaging materials and settled down to painting a winter scene on a deck chair.  By the time I had finished this the clouds had formed themselves into soldiers (wearing, I think, Nineteenth Century Prussian Army uniforms).  June then entered the L shaped rooms in earnest conversation with a unicorn - I had by that time changed into a costume made from discarded baked beans cans sprinkled with icing sugar.

The engine in the soap box I was standing on made strange animal noises and I stepped down to make myself a cup of tea.  June had disappeared across the African savannah and I was left to tinker at the space centre.  After a swarm of small black birds had landed in the garden I noticed a large white flag hanging from the rocket nose cone and I decided to go and sleep in my briefcase until lunch.  I spent the afternoon painting tribal faces on the bed linen before the animal calls got louder again and June descended on a liana dressed in my underwear.

I went out early to see the old captain who was standing alone on the bridge of his ship (which was now stuck several miles inland).  We talked of albatrosses and messages from old mirrors before I came home in a bottle (my mast pulled down).  Below the reticulated python sky I stood on a cliff top trying to see more ships, only stopping when I saw June coming down the road astride a chameleon which was slowly changing from red to green.  She put her nose away before I could pull a cup of coffee out of the mouse hole it was hiding in.

I got up before June (who was asleep on a porpoise) and climbed up the telescope to hear the voices more clearly.  I was just thinking how to get down again when a stampede of Victorian missionaries went by, showering a brightly coloured dust on a collection of faded photographs.  I picked these up and pretended they were memories - conscious that the Viking helmet I had borrowed was falling down over my eyes.  Later the dog and I went out to see if we could find our ship but only found a police box full of short pieces of string and sweets.

For some reason June and I found ourselves in the legs of a workman’s trousers; she occupied the left leg and I the right.  An ancient hay wagon trundled up the garden and we managed to extricate ourselves like moths from old blankets - in my head a brand new aircraft emerged from a chrysalis and then to its immense chagrin discovered it was an old biplane.  We flew out to lunch were I ate too much wine and drunk too many roast potatoes; I came home as a caterpillar and made copies of my pupal case while June went out to visit an old lady.

I had to climb the mountain to the castle to get some hay for bedding and oats for food.  I then trudged back down again while the donkey drove in a limousine.  I found out some old photographs and was looking at them when a man entered the room, his nose elongated so much he had tucked it in his jacket pocket.  We shook hands and then rifled though each others briefcases; I finally found the papers I needed but he had disappeared after signing his name on my foot.  I kicked a football around my shell house for the rest of the afternoon.

June went out across the tight rope bridge without telling me.  I got the dog up and dressed her in some of my old clothes; we then went out to find a good landing place for the hot air balloon which was just taking off the other side of town.   I couldn’t decide what hat to wear so I wore six - a stranger waved his hand as I put a clod of earth in a paper bag and pretended to smoke a cigarette.  My old science teacher then walked by skeletonised by too many investigations.  I ran across the road as if it was a rugby pitch and got to the other side.

Not a particularly good day:  I put on my wizard hat back to front and accidentally changed myself into a clump of ivy covering an ancient marble statue; I only managed to escape by scratching two open eyes on a pair of stone buttocks.  A brontosaurus freight train was smoking in the corner of the field as I tried out a new pair of wings (I normally use a pair of golden eagle wings but used ones from an atlas moth for a change); we exchanged pleasantries and pterodactyl jokes before I transformed myself into a dinner table and laid myself.

After descending the rapids in half a lemon, I had a quick breakfast of grape pips and then picked up the loose pieces of straw in the stable to bundle them together for a childhood photo shoot.  In readiness for this I had put on a wig borrowed from Marilyn Monroe and pasted torn up bits of a glossy magazine onto my forehead.  I later dressed as a frog and waited for the parrot man to fly in though the patented cauliflower window.  I was Spring cleaning my lily pad when my old anorak came in on its own and then hung itself up.

I had to go out of the high heeled shoe house very early - when the birds in the dawn chorus were still learning their lines.  I visited the old man who was talking to a cyclops and remembering his past. Later, as the theatre curtain started to descend I fell through the trap door to my subterranean studio where the chandelier was made from wine bottles and the chaise longue resembled a grey whale and was used in a poster for the Frankenstein film I was making in my mind - in this version the monster marries and lives a long and happy life.

June and I went out early to fill our pockets with pine cones and then plant trees in spectacle cases which I had collected together in a hessian sack (all the potatoes which had survived the winter were planted in the mattress).  We shook hands with the refugees hiding beneath the chequered sheets and then decided to walk round the perimeter of a garland which had fallen from the cross at the bottom of the garden.  I watched a young woman walk up the road surrounded by scaffolding and remembered to put a model of a pineal gland in an envelope.

I got up at two times at once and immediately had to make myself small enough to fit in a tiny canister on the top shelf of the cupboard.  I jumped down when I heard my name echo in a two dimensional universe.  June hummed a sea shanty while I sat on the recumbent dragon (which was occupying too much of the kitchen) and composed a poem for a seaweed sprite who was gazing intently in the back of a mirror.  I was told to find the other end of a piece of rope which had appeared in the garden before the church bells chimed out my name.

I had to go to town and jumped on the back of a woodlouse which followed the skirting board to the centre.  I found a shop which sold collections of small glass fish and came home to prepare my ocean.  June had brought the shipwreck on the lounge floor to my attention and I carefully covered it with rocks.  After this I pinned more memories to the mast Ulysses had abandoned when he went off to join a rock and roll band.  The soothsayer came back just in time to see me pinned to the ground by a strange creature made entirely from old books.

I descended the suitcase staircase dressed in the robes of a flower magician; I removed this and revealed an empty garden where my chest should have been - later a small grey cat entered and laid down on the patch of ground I have prepared for this purpose.  June had worn her own cloak up the road followed by six large birds.  The dog was practicing yoga in a glass bowl and after moving a collection of coloured pipes from the edge of the landing site I sat in the room at the very top of the house and talked to a mouse.

June disappeared without speaking and walked up the road with a chimney belching out dark coloured smoke attached to the top of her head - I went back alone into my mushroom house.  I later received a semaphore signal from the only chameleon allowed to appear in a black and white film so I pulled up the rope ladder dangling above the wreck of the Bismarck and went out.  I bought pretend  groceries from a shop hidden in the belly of a retired steam engine boiler and came home again pulled by an old diesel.  When I got back the house was sunk.

I had to go to town with my skirt hidden by chaps and my horse wrapped up in cling film.  In the old town I bought as many new things as I could - even though I knew some of them wouldn’t work.  I had to wait for the red wine engineer to float up to the door step so I cut the middle of the day into small slices and then thought about apricots thrown in the playground of my old school.  With some surprise I saw a small brown figure emerge from the tea caddy; he talked about Mr Dog to Mr Cat and I flew into the nearest cloud and read a book.