I got up very early, a long time before the monster outside the bedroom window and I had caught a bus before it had felt the fleeces of a multitude of sheep.  I visited the old man in his space rocket parlour and we cut the hedge along the rings of Saturn before I came home inside a glass jar (along with a lot of very large olives and a slice of Einstein’s brain).  After tracing a cellophane path to and from town I sat transparently in the hall where the stalactites and stalagmites have their meetings.  Minutes were kept which later transformed themselves into hours.

I started the day stuck in a tree which I was supposed to paint a rather livid shade of pink.  I used a tutu instead of a brush and danced myself to the topmost branches (where the television aerials congregate at night)  I detached the parachute in the afternoon just as a giraffe stood on a chair to reach me - I spoke to the chair and the giraffe spoke to a plastic fish that rolled up in an outstretched hand.  In the evening I met up with the Smokey Bear princess and we went underwater several feet above the ground.  We played in the garden of a fairy king and queen.

I watched the sky as if it was a handkerchief pulled out of an old man’s shirt pocket.  It was waved like a flag waved after the last soldier had past by.  I decided I should finish painting the ark which was anchored in the garden near the waterlily pond (which was in danger of overflowing).  I couldn’t decide if the sun was a eye with a tear welling up or a clock face with both hands pointing as if in prayer.  I put up the umbrella attached to my revolving fairground hat but it never rained.  I came inside anyway and placed the flowers I had picked at my own feet.

I heard a small dog barking outside in the middle of the night and found it in an oversized slipper - I couldn’t find the oversized foot.  I went back to sleep and found I could fly and move objects by pointing at them.  When I woke I was disappointed to find I could only swim uphill with my wife (who had someone else’s washing balanced on her top lip).  After doing press ups in a minefield and putting a burning Viking long boat in my top pocket (even though I didn’t have a top pocket only a mark where the booster rockets separated) I went to sticky town.  I stuck there for a while.

The clown’s face that appeared in the night had disappeared in the morning and I left the big tent holding onto an early Cayley glider.  I walked with June along a log deposited during the last ice age; she got off and went in the house covered by dogs fur and I trudged home barking quietly.  It was still dark outside when I went into the brightly lit room and closed my eyes.  Some time later, after adjusting the aerial on my hat, I walked Poppy the animal ballerina along the boulevard making a note of all the impact craters that had mysteriously appeared the day before.

I started the day in the shadow of a griffon vulture.  I counted the number of legs on the dining room furniture and wrote down the answer on the right arm of my favourite pullover.  Later as an airship crashed into the allotments I placed an empty diary into my full pocket and went to town.  I had to go to visit a friend and took a list of things I should have done but haven't.  Pulling a cat out of a hat he showed me his list of things he had done and shouldn't.  We reached an equilibrium as the shadow touched the front step and a shark fin appeared in the middle of the road.

I walked June to work in the milking parlour and came home with my bottles half full.  I noticed the man next door float down the road with a sailing ship on his head - I wrote down the number and went inside where the dog was knitting a nuclear fall out shelter and the cat was curled up on a recently defused atomic bomb.  I had to follow a path of cut grass before I could settle down to paint.  A large number of brush strokes later, June came in with a name scribbled across her fingers.  I waited for a message on my toes and we then both levitated into the air inside giant bubbles.

I got up very early, pulling on a tabby cat costume and putting a chocolate mouse into my pocket.  I caught the bus before it caught me and we travelled together to the extreme edge of the digestive biscuit world.  I talked there to the old man about what is beyond and then dunked a small conifer into my tea - not realising that it was over a thousand years old.  I came home, treading lightly with bath sponges attached to my otherwise bare feet.  I traversed the edge of several active volcanoes before finding someone to talk to inside a box full of broken egg shells.

I sloughed my skin just after rising from my den between the floorboards, I rolled it up and shone a torch inside.  June, who had become transparent during the night, hit me over the head with a hardback copy of Dante’s Inferno - I hate coffee table books.  We held hands as we threaded ourselves between daisy stalks which were placed between one shop facade and another.  After talking to a vegetarian sausage for a little while (June commented on his shoes which shone in the dark) we climbed into the cockpit of an interstellar spaceship for a quick lunch.

I had to walk June up the road under ink well skies even though it was supposed to be a traditional somnambulist Sunday.  I came back and sat on a closed desk watching flying turtles scurry by.  I then had a drink with a couple of friendly frogs before going out in the garden to lay roads - I pasted the imaginary traffic in my organic stamp album.  I was tidying this away under my invisible model railway when June came in wearing Hermes’ socks.  We went out soon after to buy a box of English beach - June also bought some diamond encrusted biscuits and a bag to put them in.

I walked June up the school desk hill very early again; we carried between us a model of the Kon Tiki to prove that humanity could have crossed the railway bridge to get to work in times past.  I looked at my wrist where my watch would have been and saw a smiling face - I gave it a string of pearls and moved into the shadows, a helter-skelter still protruding from my top pocket (I called this pocket “Oasis”).  The dog and I swam across one lunar sea after another before I was able to draw smiling faces in my studio.   The postman came to the door without any face at all.

I was taken ill in the night; the ethereal person said I had accidentally swallowed a dragon - I pulled out a circular saw and a couple of masonry chisels but couldn’t find anything else.  I was unable to eat all day and attached a saxophone to my chest and played a tune every time I rolled over.  June came in with a container of molten lava and I rehearsed for a part in the film “Etna Meets Vesuvius” - the sequel.  I read the script from my bed which had been conveniently placed on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier.  I was just getting off the sleep when the planes returned.

Still ill but I managed to crawl out of the lagoon I was lying in.  My best friend, The Creature (who worked in a local office as a filing clerk), and I sat staring out of a window until I began to stare into a computer screen.  The sea birds which I had seen in a dream skimming the surface of a slice of toast returned to their nests and I crept downstairs with a fairy tale castle on my shoulders.  June was trying on a Wicked Witch costume and made a cocktail from the residues found at the bottom of her collection of Hammer Horror bottles - I pulled an incubating egg from under my T-shirt.

I noticed that the  floor was strewn with fragments of moon rock.  I picked up the one with a flag in it and threw it over my shoulder for good luck.  A fat cat was curled up on a mail order catalogue as I reached up into the armpit of a passing Jolly Green Giant and pulled out a book.  I promised myself never to read it until I had seen the film and invented a cruet set that would double as earrings.  Pretending to be a medieval prince I waited for my princess to cross the river in a gilded rowing boat before sitting on a pink marshmallow and playing the cymbals.

I was pasted to the wall several feet above the floor so couldn’t leave the house like I normally would on a Friday morning.  The dragonfly had decided to watch the television instead of crawling out of its pupal case (the lady in a green suit pulled a collection of papers out of her case but that is another story) so I went up the spiral staircase into a room attached to the top of the house like a horn.  I surveyed what I had done in a past existence as a African eland then settled down to work.  June came in later covered with fly paper - I pretended to be a tomato plant.

I decided to spend all day in a mock medieval dungeon working on my collection of D.I.Y. torture instruments.  Music was playing from a revolving bed of shingle to which a sea sprite’s leg was attached.  I picked up an antique vanity case and could hear the sea (although it couldn’t hear me).  June went out dressed like an ivy clad wall but I stayed inside a glass dome like a stuffed animal all day working on a promising series of giant eyes which open and close in time to the music.  When the fairy dancers arrived we had both been temporarily turned to stone by a passing gorgon.

Stretched out on a pterodactyl wing I surveyed the small area of blue sky break out into a huge grin.  A small dark aeroplane moved across from the East and a large white bird from the West.  I had turned into a piece of Gothic architecture during the night and the internal walls of my cranium had been painted a light yellow brown to remind me of the seaside.  I followed a track of foot prints in the sand not realising that they were my own.  A skeleton in a brightly coloured kiosk showed anyone he could his collection of grainy slides - I stopped for a look.

I left the hollowed out tree trunk very early in the morning.  I noticed that children had scribbled on the blackboard I moved across; almost spelling words.  I reached a distant hilltop just as the dawn was breaking open.  The rooks who had been circling the tall trees in the valley first congregated on the roof tops and then started to swarm around the sloping pavements.  They finally signed off the previous night’s activities as I left the scene.  When I entered the house the old man was coming out.  We met again later and talked of Spring - a black cat curled up outside.

June grew gradually more transparent during the early part of the morning, finally fading away before the sun and I went out for a drink.  I measured the inside of my cage while waiting for a man to arrived disguised as a rabbit.  He called himself Sandy although his business card gave Hieronymous.  He had been and gone when another man knocked on the door, his hand inside a glove puppet and with a solar panel on each shoulder - I told him it was due to rain and slipped inside an envelope for a sleep.  Outside the old men were bemoaning the end of the film.

I got up in the heavy rain and poured a glass of water down the sink.  Curiously it had a row of lipstick tubes along the back; I called them missiles on the head of Medusa and removed one mask - it had a Victorian folly for a nose and the hair was attached to the face like a guitar solo at the end of a song.  I stood on the parapet watching almost extinct animals recede into the distance; I called them my teenage record collection and waited for the needle to drop.  I then sat like a cat in an Egyptian wall painting watching a girl go down the road wearing two galvanised baths instead of shoes.

I escaped from the black hole of breakfast wearing an army helmet painted bright pink and holding three library books.  I opened a page with punctuation marks of flak surrounding a B29 bomber over Japan.   After a crash landing on a bomb blast shaped foam mattress I walked to town to buy a party dress for the rabbit.  I steeple chased all the way home followed by a number of people recently escaped from their portraits.  I shook hands with my cubist self and gave my surreal self a sweet.  June came in a bit later dressed as Lisa Gherardini (she wasn’t smiling).

I went out extremely early, holding hands with a bright red omnibus.  I met the old man in a multi-storey haystack and we talked of old times - when everyone had a haystack under their hat (I lifted my hat and a harvest mouse lifted his).  I got a lift home from a pair of space gypsies in a large black car with several cart horses in the boot.  A garden pond sat on the back seat replete with a rowdy group of frogs practising singing from the same hymn sheet.  I had to go to town immediately after arriving home but I still got back in time to tuck a robot up for the night.

I was woke in the night by a pangolin playing a drum kit and floated several feet above a recently ploughed field for several hours after this (June mentioned in passing later her story of a luminous skeleton playing a saxophone watched by the Bride of Frankenstein - more correctly the Bride of Frankenstein monster).  I walked her to town counting the number of arrows flying through the air as I did so.  I came back and dressed as a tom cat before having to go down again to pull the mermaids out of her shopping bags.  After this I walked around with a small Moses on my head.

I got up in two times; a fact I couldn’t get my five heads around.  I had my breakfast in a lake and then saw a procession of garlanded figures approach the cross I was leaning against - I considered this a trick of the light and let them pass by.  A pelican delivered a box so I could put an ocean liner above the kitchen window.  I approached the garden as it was a bull in a ring, waived my cloak at a passing tuatara before the neighbours drove off in a converted milk float.  The buildings were bending in the breeze as I donned my cardboard armour and rode off to find a windmill.

The start of another working week and I walked downstairs with tiny unicorns standing on each shoulder tossing coins in the air - I later found out that the coins were farthings and a small number of jenny wrens had flown off into the bamboo by the back door.  It was a slow day in my studio; the cat unzipped a bag of diamond encrusted hand grenades and I walked along a tenon saw blade holding an overripe apricot.  I later put apricots in my hair and, as a joke, pulled a miniature Loch Ness monster out of a coffee jar - June having already drunk the original contents.

June disappeared between two pillars outside the garden before the sungod had risen.  The face at the window sucked on a dummy while the portrait on the wall poked out its tongue.  I retraced my steps across the board game and went up the snake (the chess player slowly turned into a werewolf but the game continued).  I went out during the middle of the day and sat beside a plastic tree watching a pair of polar bears try on sunglasses - the penguin with flapping wings turned out to be an undertaker.  I came home to feed the cats unwanted film negatives.

Reduced to a mere shadow I descended the stone steps to start the day; the dog was sitting in an egg cup and I took her out attached to a giant spoon which reflected the distorted faces of people not there.  A ballerina danced on my wrist watch as I packed away my bat wings and hid my bronze age crown among the artificial leaf litter.  I had to mount an expedition to find cabbage leaves to repair the roof above a Polynesian rain goddess - I stuck out my tongue and pulled in a baggage train returning from the Crimean War.  June entered with a smile in her handbag.

June went to work accompanied by an arrow of birds trying to find a target to hit.  I jumped out of the goldfish bowl I had been sleeping in and crossed the sky like the vapour trail of a jet liner, meeting my sister in a photograph of a steam train coming into a station; we had a black and white kiss and then found a taxi to preserve in formalin.  We exited the jar and found my father in the shopping centre watching a herd of wildebeest during their annual migration.  We had dinner and then went travelling on oversized goji berries - June and I said goodbye to Diana.

I had to get up very early, catching a mule train as it trudged by in the driving rain.   I changed mules in the garrison town, looking down the hill like a military statue.  I met the old man in the grand hall of my imagination, light from the windows forming coloured shapes on the serpent carpet like a series of board games - he played scrabble while I played mahjong.  I had made the windows in a previous existence and the grand hall disappeared in an ethereal distance.  On my way home I showed my ticket to an apparition of the driver and sat at the back.

After exchanging snake secrets with the glass girl I boarded a train bound for the Hessian bag coloured countryside.  I met a silver haired lady, saying hello as she walked by in search of someone else, and we found the place to climb a hill (I climbed the hill while others climbed the mountain); I held onto trees above a track which led to a house without a roof. I touched the sky and then started the long trek home, shuffling though a carpet of fallen leaves.  After an invisible journey through the back streets I sat in the train again and pulled a small tree out of my pocket.

I got up with a plastic box over my head; thankfully it was transparent so I was able to find my way downstairs - even though I went down an extra flight and found myself in the Eleventh Century.  I swam about in a witches cauldron waiting for June to rise - which she did just before Hermes made his entrance: crashing through the glass of the back door with a cork in one hand and a corkscrew in the other.  I had to visit a house wearing a giant woolly hat; I touched the bobble like Saint Augustine and then came back with a number of secrets wrapped up inside my plastic bag.

Feeling a bit self conscious with a glass pyramid attached to the top of my head I got up before June and descended the pea pod stairs to the secret garden in the kitchen.  I watched silently as a couple of plants commenced to read the King James bible out loud - even more strangely a bird flew out of the top of one proclaiming itself an agnostic.  I proclaimed myself an agnostic and retired to my studio hidden in a wood of Easter Island heads.  June went to town to find a person with three left feet, coming back much later with a souvenir of the Red Sea in a school satchel.

June went shopping very early, travelling in a car made from old fishnet stockings.  I was left at home to find a way of opening an umbrella inside a wine bottle, a task I completed before rain started to fill the bottle up.  Some time later a message came from the Battle of The Little Big Horn and I went and collected June from the shopping centre teepee.   I carried the bags home pursued by men wearing bright orange jackets.  After a meal of fire and water I danced upstairs like a knight on his way to jousting practice - outside a post box chased a post van.

June and I caught a pinstripe suit to the next town where we clapped hands like sea lions and met several people who claimed to be keeping secrets.  We didn’t pry even though we were keeping secrets too.  We met my sister on a beach in the town centre and talked of the world’s end while waiting for the tide to come in. I had one arm resting in Africa and my sister had two legs and her little finger; June was orbiting the Earth and spontaneously proclaimed the second and third coming.  When we returned the home, the cats had added a third storey to the house.

June and I went out again, this time holding plant pots with volcanoes issuing from the top - we listened to strange rattling noises but couldn’t pin down the source.  I tightened a tie around the neck of my friend The Grass Snake and counted the number of lemons hanging from a tree replacing the head of the woman behind the till.  We ate slowly as life size penguins clapped - the polar bear poked its head out of its burrow and then turned the page of the book it was reading.  We took the long way home - I made sure I jumped in as many puddles as possible.

I got up early (June was wearing the bath like a tortoise shell) and caught a red devil by the tavern.  I parleyed with the rook parliament while waiting for the largest slime mould in the world to slide down the hill.  I caught it half way and then met the old king in the giant kitchen where we watched the tide go out leaving behind a brightly coloured collection of fruit flies - we applauded as they danced. After the Zeppelins had crossed the room I left for home holding a cloud in a plastic bag. I was followed by a numerical sequence an infinite number of digits long.

I stayed working in my steel cobweb den while the rest of the family went out riding in their new mechanical boots.  I had a frank discussion with several founding members of the secret cat society.  When the conversation got too earnest I pinned street lamps to my chest and wrote a song about living in a milk bottle.  I envisioned a city of milk bottles and was still working out the intricacies of a yoghurt pot transport system when June returned holding a Mickey Mouse battle tank - the cat princess was sitting on a story book reciting the poetry of jellied eels.

June and I had a lay in; sleeping in a designer crocodile bed, me inventing a flying submarine and she pulling relations out of pre-Christmas crackers - the last one didn’t go off bang even though a number of small antelopes simultaneously descended from the ceiling with translucent fairy wings (the large male had a goatee beard; I called him an old colleague).  We had to go to town to unwrap a pair of Irish dancers from their plastic prison, I came home early and then found out I had to go down again to pose on a baked potato for a group of tourists from the rings of Saturn.

I talked with someone dressed as a rabbit before I even touched the ground today.  We formulated a plan of action but no action took place.  Somewhat disappointed I folded up the town as it was fifty years ago and stuffed it in my pocket.  Thinking of hollowed out logs I walked down the road counting the coloured stones that had accumulated over time - having found that pink outnumbered blue I pasted an early example of lace lingerie on the wall, pulled the brim of my hat so far down it touched my feet and then said a prayer with a toy revolver pushed into my belt.

June got up in a red dawn and I got up in a green one.  I ate a number of stray chess pieces before collecting all the drum sticks I could find and making a fence.  The highland cattle kept inside had already mutated into an imitation hedge for an 00 gauge model railway (in place of reindeer moss).  I put on two magician’s hats to see if they would resemble horns and then painted pictures in the Winter pasture.  The long strand which I thought was a petrified skyline later turned out to be sounds that had escaped from a classical symphony we had kept in a paper bag by the sofa.

I had to get up early and followed June along the planks and girders on the outside of a skyscraper in New York - which, incidentally, the stranger had kept in a top hat (the neighbour kept a bilingual rabbit in his and we kept the washed up remains of The Nautilus in ours).  I paid the stranger some money and sat down on the top deck - the merman in my head was filling in a risk assessment form as I did so.   I met the grand old man sitting on top of a chest of drawers and we exchanged slips of paper; outside the ancient Greek statues were strewn about the lunar lawn.

I remembered when a UFO crashed into the field behind the house and all we could find later was shards of pottery, had a breakfast of machine parts and then caught a train.  I designed a treasure island wallpaper for the inside of the tunnel and then waited for the train to metamorphose into Pegasus (complete with stainless steel Bellerophon on its back) after which I got off holding my ancient staff and a catalogue of deep sea diving suits.  I placed my staff in the middle of a giant footprint (which purportedly had appeared overnight) and then worked in a sea urchin grove.

June and I were combing the hair of a mammoth which had accidentally wandered into the garden when the hair dryer telephone rang and a prince and princess descended on ropes from an old fashioned sailing ship floating overhead.  We jumped like Bronze Age puppies and then went out to explore a bell barrow.  The little girl new all the secrets of the grizzly bear people and we looked at a strange patch of night sky in the middle of the day.  We came home like geese and played in the skeleton of a blue whale until the car driver transformed into a werewolf.

June went back to work, swimming through the tarmac road like a porpoise.  I put on my giant squid hat and walked a can of dog food round the new housing estate (recently built in an old soup bowl).  Looking through a mechanical dinosaur sphincter at the new houses I divided the number of vertical strips of wood by the number of horizontal ones and ended up inventing a new religion.  I went off to find the high priestess with a flashing dog fish egg case in my hair. (the old sailor in my head had once thought of opening a seaside inn called “The Mermaid’s Purse”).

I started the day as a saxophone solo (hoping that the musician wouldn’t play a wrong note); Poppy and I explored a fairytale castle and then caught a lift on a fish travelling along a clear plastic tube way - we got off at the appendix and I checked in at the jungle hotel.  I gave the stork headed man a tip before rising into my studio to work on a new range of duck bill appendages for the fashion conscious girl who has everything.  June came back later with a stampede of miniature elephants in her hair - I gave her a volcanic basin of coffee and they flew off.

June had a saw throat and crawled to work like a procession of medieval pilgrims wrapped in a caterpillar suit.  I woke as a butterfly but lost my wings rushing downstairs to answer the flower phone - it was the wrong number.  I then went to the mountain and picked  up a bag of right numbers, they told me my fortune and I told them theirs.  After the gold rush in the granite of my temple I made a new set of wings from fallen leaves found in the garden and then hovered over the garden pond contemplating a televised touch down and walk across the Red Sea.

I crawled out of the system of tunnels that the machine gun people used to practice in and then laid on the bed of nails I use to clean my teeth.  The man living in the bathroom cabinet had dental floss round his neck and threatened to  jump - I threatened to catch him in a pinny I borrowed from the fox headed lady. June gargled on water taken from the bottom of a glacier and then tied a collection of smiles onto a kite and flew it from her mountain of petrol cans.  An oil tanker full of sea birds drifted by while Ben and I walked home talking about the colour of bricks.

I left the ventricle of the giant gorilla heart very early and caught a test tube on wheels by the steam engine cemetery (looking through the gate I could see the soot covered flowers strewn about like motor cars after the apocalypse).  I met the old man half way up a palm tree which he had earlier turned into a block flats.  We talked of a farmer called maize and another called field of beans.  I came back astride a tube of blood and spilt myself out in town.  The lady behind the counter pulled a plastic spider out of her hair and I poured tea into my pocket instead of a cup.

June had to go to her place of work unexpectedly and I got my ready for a trip into the black woods on my own.  I found a seat in a rapidly moving sweet packet and sat down among the discarded machine gun wrappings.  When we got to the wood the shooters waved as they rode by.  I managed to find a tree to climb down while the others went up by the lift - in the distance gun shots could be heard.  We lined up the fallen trees and when the last ones had been carefully seen to we came back by the crematorium, looking at the height of the trees as we swept by.

June and I had a lay in the flower strewn La Brea tar pits,  I gathered up a bouquet and went out into the garden.  I noticed a lot of earth thrown all over the path and then came indoors to creep inside a 35mm photograph - I rearranged my hair into a distant hillside and imagined walking up it holding the hand of someone half invisible in the sunlight.  June went to town followed by a mechanised marching band and I stepped into the Twelfth Century to admire the view.  Sometime later as the invincible robot band master I went to town; finding June among the rubble.

June trotted to work like a dog following an Eighteenth Century mail coach while I curled up in a cat bed and built a model Eiffel Tower from recently sloughed snake skin. I had to find some pebbles for David and followed the broken road to the miniaturised city built on the top of a fountain pen nib.  I noticed in the background that Goliath had been changed into a board game just in time for the Christmas trade.  I pulled a preprogrammed penny whistle out of my pocket and it played a tune - I made a note that I had to take the pterodactyl to the vets and flew off.

I had to find a hat to cover my rabbit ears and then went out to discover a plateau in the middle of the jungle. I discussed the intricacies of quantum mechanics with a group of learned dinosaurs I met there.  I came home alone, although I had gained an extra pair of shadows which emanated from my walking feet at different angles.  Like a magician who had climbed to the top of a broom handle (machine gun firing biplanes swarmed around) I collapsed one reality and opened up another.  I talked to a blood worm philosopher as he followed a dried up river bed.

June left the circular room very early while I stayed in the triangular one waiting for the face on the ceiling to be granted a voice.  I heard the clatter of plates as a ocean liner glided down the road; it turned left at the Southern Railway signal at the bottom.  I stood admiring the shade of green and then put my childhood memory in a vacuum flask and went to find a dragon to check the colour of its scales.  Some time later I escaped from the inside of a cordless phone and devoted myself to compiling a dictionary of good byes.  The ghost of the first milkman went by.

June and I went out for the day; she carried the progenitor of all the mechanical people in the world and I trailed a conscience like a matador trails a red cloak (we both pondered evolution during the last ever valve radio transmission).  We then looked at the lights held by angels as they explored the practicalities of parabolic flight.  After a meal in a bee hive we wandered around the stands of sentient seaweed looking for the latest lichen fashions.  As a joke I pulled a transistor out of my exoskeleton and proclaimed myself king.  June changed channels when we got home.

A very early morning, which started with me dressed as Merlin taking flying lessons from a witch's broom I had found in the Red Queen’s pantry. On my way to the giant's castle I was surprised how far the vehicles floated above the ground.  I measured one and then retrieved a city hidden in a discarded tangerine.  I met the old giant as he held a red kite puppet above the streets of Seventeenth Century London.  We talked of eyes in the sky as pictures of Christmas lights over open sewers moved along the Menin Road.  I came home wrapped in a serviette.

June had a lay in and I got up to have breakfast with an Egyptian mummy.  I wrote a conundrum on a length of white linen and then went out to find the answer.  The clouds moved along like joined up writing as I left the house.  A herd of brontotheres grazed in the derelict streets and I found a map on a paper plane - unfortunately, I couldn’t find the end as I didn’t know the beginning.  June stayed with the fairy folk, sitting down for tea in a collection of giant hats, while I came home to work in the crow’s nest.  I saw the folded up edge of the world but no ships.

I should have stood in for Tarzan in a B movie today but had to get wrapped up for an early Christmas party instead.  Before this I met my other self trying to find religion on a compost heap at the top of the garden; he pulled a cord and heard bells while I pulled a cord and a water filled blimp descended from the purple sky and discharged a dance troupe of mermaids (their movements below the waist were a bit limited but their arms moved like fiddler crabs).  I came in like jetsam and pulled the photosynthesis cables from around my neck before the lightning beasts arrived.

I began the first chapter of the day astride a pebble skin dragon searching for a field of cabbages to plunder.  I was served by the first in a new era of pocket sized robots and came back home with a picture of an octopus in a bathing suit on my banner. I worked in the white, grey and black towers until June returned as a damsel not in distress and I went out again sitting on a mobile windmill.  It would be some time before I re-entered the page I was being read from and settled down for the evening attached like a footnote to the rather discoloured margin.

I had to go out (wearing two hats for a change) and found the first signs of a disembodied consciousness on the playing fields behind King George Road.  I communed with kings without crowns and came home riding a surf board across the freshly laid tarmac.  I worked all day inside a sculpture of solidified surf and then changed out of my desert flower swim suit into a costume made from the portcullis of a Norman castle.  June returned as I was just about to climb the ladder I had purposely made too short to reach the roof.  Two stone birds looked down from above.

I got up like a pilgrim who lost his religion half way into the pilgrimage and did not manage to settle down to serious work unto mid morning.  The dog was trying to play herself at scrabble and lost the game when I spelt walk using letters from old envelopes - I changed the addresses of all the places I have lived at into a piece of poetry and was reciting this aloud when the postman knocked the door and handed me a glove with a hand already contained within it.  I spent much of the afternoon painting all the light bulbs black and turned the lights out when June came in.

I noticed that the tortoise cat suit I was wearing first thing in the morning was becoming worn and looked for a bush I could use as a changing room - I changed into a chest of drawers and June later found the socks that were missing in my bottom drawer. After a brief sojourn climbing the Empire State Building with my butterfly wings bullet ridden and crumpled I returned to attaching old tin cans to the recently painted wall and finding stones small enough to sit inside them.  I was conscious I did not have a tall enough mountain to shout from and went into a deep cave system to think.

I left the house (called Nautilus) very early.  I rose in an air bubble to the little house in the valley where the old man made breakfast out of slabs of concrete.  We compared pictures of open and closed eyes and then signed our names on as many pursed lips as possible.  I pushed my hands into bare earth and came home by parcel post landing on the doormat like a postcard which arrives after the sender is home.  June had been swallowed by the hula hoop I sometimes call her job so and on finding my legs had grown to over six feet long I took my shadow out for a walk.

June went out for the day and I was left with the animals; the dog tried on her favourite little black number (we later walked both black and white numbers round the digital totem pole before climbing it like antithetical firemen) and the cats sat on a mat discussing the philosophy of Wittgenstein.  I decided to clean out the pockets of an old pair of jeans that I saw walking up the garden path and found a black and white photograph of a zebra and a wrist watch shaped like a fob watch.  I put the watch on - it was permanently kept at a normal human body temperature.

The alarm sounded as I found myself standing in a house slowly collapsing around me (a little boy in another dimension was hoping for Lego for Christmas). Marks on the floral carpet rose like Grecian columns; the time lapse movement of honey bees mapped out the shape of flower heads on their barefoot tops.  June and I wore headdresses of sunflowers and went to town  We looked through filaments of bright orange flames, me dressed in broadsheet newspapers and her wearing a costume of ancient paw prints.  We walked home through industrial estate rain.

I walked June to work with bird song dropping from each street lamp in turn (blackbirds with ladies tights over their heads pushed barrows of fruit machines up the hill - at the top the organ recently escaped from the Royal Albert Hall sat eating).  I came down the hill with my computerised earrings flashing messages - sadly one ear could not communicate with the other).  Back in my studio I maintained the wind farm in my mind and reflected in the mirror like a bad headline.  June and I had been talking about moving into a giant fungus but its fruiting body has squatters.

It was a very rough night.  This was confirmed by the china doll who sat outside on the windowsill; it warned it would jump but I knew it couldn’t.  Inside, the head without a body grew wings just above its ears, they grew larger throughout the morning and when I returned from town wearing fourteen different items of clothing they looked like a map of Greater London.  I worked silently until June came back from the desert island on the roof when both the doll and I spoke at the same time - using the same words in different colours.  June climbed into an old shoe.

June and I met my sister on the concrete landing platform in town; we then met my father, who head had become a giant chimney billowing out dream smoke.  We ate our meal in the middle of the charge of the Light Brigade - I then had another pudding while everyone else stood and shone like street lamps.  I contemplated the road ahead like the giant mechanical gorilla I have mentioned before.  Later I saw a picture of myself with a mast on my head and the sail furled up - I waited to see if anyone would unfurl it but no one did.  The concrete eagle flew over head.

I snuggled up inside an envelope and waited for at least part of me to be posted.  The picture of a brain I had stuck onto the smiling face wall was looking more like a map of an unknown city every minute (in the city lived a toad called Emily; all the boys wanted to feed her with flies they had caught specially).  As the first attempt at making an invisible man I went out to collect some boxes.  I came back across a field of burning eyes; I stopped when they started to close - I kept a collection of variously coloured pencils in my pocket just in case.  The rain lapped up the milk like a black cat. 

I left the cloth cap house some time before the vulture abacus was fixed above the dying mathematician (I counted myself out and counted myself back again).  I met the old merman sitting on a piece of toast in the middle of the bright green sea; I found my own toast and paddled like I had just entered my third childhood.  Incidentally it was a long time ago, when attempting to measure the longest strip of seaweed in the world that I found the found the remains of the first electric poet.  At that age I totally ignored the fact that he had an elephant’s trunk and ears like solar panels.

I got up early again - my eyes crumpled up like an old pullover.  I left June sleeping like a Neolithic long barrow while I got ready, accompanied by a char lady from a Fifties television advert (I later saw the bright white dog from the same advert floating outside the double bedroom window). I caught the train to an Ancient Briton gap in a Roman road and lit a bonfire while the sentries were temporarily blinded by sunlight.  I signed my name on the side of an old tractor and came home in a suit made from egg shells; the train was already waiting in the station.

A picture emerged of a chilli pepper in an ice cube when I got up (wearing only a Michelangelo face mask) and followed June down stairs.  I had my breakfast sat inside a aquarium and then went round the fish slice garden on the back of a turtle.  The turtle let me down gently before June and I walked across an Icelandic glacier to town.  I found some pictures to pin to the sperm whale shaped balloon floating just a few feet above the heads of the Salvation Army brass band; the choir sang from within the manger as June and I went off in search of the children of monsters.

June found a house on a skate board and stepped in it for the day.  I pulled a iron bridge out of my hair and worked in the Little Jack Horner corner of my studio inventing transistor candles.  I had managed to make a word out of worm casts and then tried to find echoes of the big bang in a cat litter tray when June came in with a bacon sandwich brooch - we shared advice about diode hairdos.  The picture of a crane on the top of a mountain returned in the evening as we tried to thread a roll of antique carpet through a rabbit warren.  We didn’t know the rabbit was a Zen master.

I had to go to town, June had already gone to work dressed as a parakeet.  I found what I wanted at the bottom of the ocean and I resurfaced in one of our garden ponds - only to realise that I had forgotten the postage stamps.  The Christmas cards formed a monument on the coffee table which I walked around like a school boy; I returned the second time with my shirt out and trousers at half mast.  Once ensconced in the ice tower (musn’t forget to give the budgie his medicine every night) I painted a picture on a skating rink and then fell over like a melting chocolate figurine.

The humming bird in my mind made aerial calligraphy while I stuck a paper bag on my head (it had a smile written on it with a cheap biro) and complained about a sore throat.  The face on the wall, made from my imagination and a hastily written down number, started a litany of inanimate anguish as I shut the door and sloped off for tea and slice of cake with an old friend.  We talked of life inside a hidden henge while the black cat traffic hurtled by.  Standing on a traffic island I thought of the sea, especially where the railway tracks disappeared under the waves.

I didn’t sleep very well as the abominable showman was handing out presents in the shadowing corners of the room (I also noticed that the uplighted clouds were clear enough to write messages on).  June got up several hours after the alarm went off and walked to work wrapped in a tent.  I found my name under a stone and collected several other versions for a glass cabinet that stood guard outside the princess’s door.  On her return through a temporal portal opened up in front of the fireplace we went out again in search of objects for a friendly bower bird’s nest.

I got up early; June was standing in the kitchen shining a torch at the ceiling light, an imaginary picture of Atlantis was sinking on her night dress.  I swam to see a king from a childhood annual and we compared our joined up writing.  I came back when the words separated with a family of tree shrews on my shoulder and my haversack full of old newspapers.  As I rode a beam of light home I saw the man who chopped down a tree talking to the man who planted it.  After this the biggest shrew talked to Shakespeare while I spoke to a coconut and two small courgettes.

After designing a future city (based on plastic frog spawn) for the surface of Venus June and I went out shopping.  I dragged behind me an eleven foot model of a mackerel and she carried a small gypsy (for good luck).  We dressed as mechanical diggers before queuing for dinner on the hull of a capsized liner - I covered the rudder with woollen cardigans that had blown in from a mock up of the Gobi desert.  After buying far too much we came back in the guise of nomadic herders, clinging to the roof of the train after the doors puckered up and I refused to kiss them.

June and I had our own clouds this morning; I think mine was slightly larger and followed me like a dog - it was fairly well behaved except when another cloud walked up the road on a lead.  We all went out to dinner half way up a very tall tree (I fell out just after two) and then laid on a tropical beach watching the icebergs slowly drift by; one had several figures standing on it, the tallest of which was dressed all in gold.  I came back to the plastic construction kit house and walked the dog along the pelmet of a Victorian window showering the crowds below with gold coins.

I first measured the dog’s tongue to see if it was long to enough to cover the entire perimeter of the garden and then went out (June and I were each carrying an enamel bath in our pockets and I threatened to sit in mine in front of the open fire).  We all ate under a rather low ceiling and then returned like redirected letters to sit in someone else’s sitting room.  We checked the backs of the Cyclops as they left the cave not realising the sheep were hiding underneath.  As the light faded I wondered if I could a roll a model car under the legs of the table as it started to float.

June went to work as normal; I hopped about the battlefield inside a giant sock which was lost when the ogress did the washing.  I went to town along the dorsal fin of an ichthyosaurus, bought a field of cabbages and then came home with the only working alarm clock sunk in a pail of unpasteurised milk.  I took the pale white stairs to my studio, ignoring the clenched fist pinned to the door.  I worked in a fossilised wood (which is kept on the top shelf next to the fossilised flames) until June came in with a medieval knight over her shoulder.  I dropped his sword in my tea.

I slept in a sugar bowl and woke up tired.  With my eyes half closed (some would say half open) I signed my name on a roll of bandages in eleven different languages - none of which I could speak.  I had to go the workshops to get a new cauldron and then a lipstick to scrawl a message on the dressing table mirror.  After a spin in a toy car I found myself in a wood embracing a length of pipe; I held my ears to the ground but couldn’t hear the water flowing although I did hear two sets of footsteps merge into one.  I  walked home inside one leg of a pair of tights.

I got up before June and found a tunnel last traversed by a pilgrim family looking for a shrine - I started the propeller I was wearing in lieu of a hat and found the very top of the sunflower where rain clouds congregated like black sheep.  Me and the turtles talked for some time before I had to find a person inside an ice cold flame; I worked among the hot icebergs for some time until the paper smiles turned to frowns and I put my crayons to bed.  June came in wet while I waited for the rain to fall; she had a map of the world in her sandwich box and handed me a crumb.

A very early morning and I had to tunnel out of bed like a trapped miner. I followed a vein to the father node and then sat motionless as a Toby Jug filled up with trinkets.  My father showed me his memories trapped in amber.  I thought of Jurassic Park and considered my own memories, resembling as they do a balsa wood glider tossed out of first floor window.  I came home by horizontal parachute, travelling just a few inches above the ground.  I landed in front of a choice of front doors - I chose the one which looked most familiar; not noticing the figure with fifteen arms.

I sloughed out of bed, pulled nuclear missiles out of my hair and went out to interrogate a log - it didn't talk. I made a pyramid out of broken branches and then scrambled about like a collapsing house of cards trying to find the King's tomb - it wasn't there.   After a lunch of paper hats I met June outside a shoe which had been hastily cast aside.  We toured the entrails of a mystical beast and then came home clutching our bags.  As the garishly painted curtain began to descend I saw a group of fictional characters standing at the front door, one of which handed me a note.