My Diary

I woke up to the sound of seagulls and for an instant I was somewhere else.

Before breakfast I flew to the village of my childhood on a big bird – it was raining worms. I had some time when I got back to continue building the fortifications around the hill that isn’t there.

On the news, aliens on flying carpets (sickles in hands) are reportedly heading this way. I noticed that the wheat is already ripening.

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My Diary

A chill out day which is always a challenge. Especially for the occupants of the Nordic Court which reside in my room. Today they did not have anyone to try but filled in the time by making a new gaol in one of my greenhouses. While they did this bluebirds flew over the cliffs of Dover which float on one of the artificial horizons I use in my war games.

I disappeared for a short time though the secret doorway in the garden pond. I re-emerged as the Creature From The Black Lagoon, sung a song and disappeared again. This was part of a new ritual of enlightenment I am initiating.

I threw a tractor tyre in the air and ate a doughnut.

My Diary

A more or less normal day. Hands emerged from the brickwork at the top of the stairs and I shook them. At the bottom of the stairs I grasped the nettle. I plan to plant climbers that grow bricks so that I can add an extra floor to the house. This will save me from using the missile silos which are placed beneath the floor in the dining room.

Out of the cuckoo clock came a dragon. I thought this might be handy to light June’s cigarettes but I am still hoping she will stop smoking. If she does I am pretty certain that a Swiss railway will run down the hall and out through the kitchen.

In the kitchen Red Indians have set up their camp. I intend to learn their language but for now I just drew signs on the floor.

My Diary

Less hot but the semi-magic garden still feels like a steel works. I face the furnace and pretend that Dante is asleep in my top pocket. I carefully take out my handkerchief so not to wake him and mop my brow.

In my studio I draw shapes in the air, blow lightly and they float onto the canvas like kisses.

Rain clouds marched across town but did not deposit enough water to put out the fires constantly burning on the heads of everyone walking down the street.

My Diary

A day as a Neanderthal in my paradise garden. It was possible to hear the barbarians in both the future and the past – however I lived for the moment. I stretched the garden deep into the oceans where ancient marine animals still roam and cultivated HT seaweed. Unfortunately I still missed the whale song hidden in the tree roots.

I weeded like an archaeologist and made a number of important finds. However, it was still very hot and June and I had to have Bedouin tents on our backs. I put my finds in a camel’s humps.

I followed the foot prints of the plant people who know all our secrets but they had already spoken.

My Diary

A day in the urban desert where the cauldron heat could be seen by its effect on the small people in the picture I am painting. I was still Janus and saw everyone coming and going.

At work I could run around on tracks like a model train. I started off as a shunter but ended up as a “Battle Of Britain” class with a string of carriages.

When I walked the dog I pretended to be her and she pretended to be me. However, I was a bit annoyed when she talked to every pretty stranger we met.

My Diary

Another busy day where I was the lion tamer and the lion. I am glad that the little man that lives on the top of my head is more talkative than me as there were too many people milling around the entrance to the time capsule caves for me to cope with.

I wish that the hole in the hedge by the wood mill was a hole in time itself and I would crawl out into my early life where all hedges had secret passages in them.

Talking of secret passages I made one between the cupboard (in the shape of a gorilla) in my studio and the invisible obelisk that I have sited in the garden. I can now enter the garden without being seen.