My Diary

Today was a day when you could only speak in whispers; the voices which once shouted were funnels of a liner sinking beneath the ink stain in the sky. I felt more relaxed and the clockwork powering the additional pair of limbs in my rucksack was slowly running down. I made shields emblazoned with two headed birds and banged out a tune with the ornate sword hilt which had replaced the light in the hallway.

I went down the tunnel to find a skateboard big enough to carry the rhino which had spent the autumn in my head. On coming out I walked the narrow path between the cemetery and the luxury flats. Stray dogs carried Nineteenth Century servants on their backs.

Even though the enemy was marching the other way I still plan to make a moat and plant it with water lilies. The frogs and toads will be as big as buildings.

My Diary

The goblins have gone! On the day they went they had started to grow cats whiskers and had wet fish caught up in their hair. There was a great celebration in the Roman camp with all the men with elephant heads cheering. I threw a football up into the air and it became a flight of doves. I can now book a holiday on Alpha Centauri.

It was a stressful day as the shadows moved around separated from the bodies that created them. The dog was restless and had a glowing city of ants on her back.

I went out in the evening like a huge floating invertebrate in the jetstream of Jupiter.

My Diary

Something was stirring in the ruined castle next door, many of the articles of war have been packed up and trundled away. The army went to and fro during the afternoon carrying the pots and pans in which they boiled their prisoners. Severed arms were strung together like bean sticks. Severed legs walked behind the Pied Piper with Hitler moustaches pinned to them. The sofa was burnt and it’s ashes scattered.

I returned to my studio after a sojourn in the jungle where I hung like an old man. Vines had grown up where I once worked. When the flowers opened water was turned into wine, the books had stigmata and the crayons were wet with blood. I drew a still life in which galaxies collide.

At the end of the day I rolled up the house like a sleeping bag and slept like a baby.

My Diary

The morning was spent making the struts for the glider I plan to search the clouds with. The garden was cold as I played Chinese whispers with the African lilies. They jumped up and down in readiness for the hunt. I became a witch doctor and pushed a bone through my nose.

As a novelty I was stretched on the rack during my dinner break; I used my longer arms to paint the bigger picture. I had to lay on the floor like a 10,000 lb. bomb under a Lancaster prior to a raid on a paint factory. My wife came in with ribbon in her hair.

I was out in the evening, partly in the boxing ring which floats around just above people heads, partly on the dance floor where milk bottles do the twist and remember what they would have liked to have done when they were younger.

My Diary

I had a frozen walk to the palace on the lake where the dead come to have their memories copied. I made a list and tucked it into my pocket along with a map of dried up rivers. It was quite busy during the day with the winds blowing all the tent flaps in the enclosed grounds (this is where the hermits congregate). I no longer have to go out at noon to fight dragons so I drew my thoughts and then hid them.

The evening was spent in the diamond mines among the birds of prey. I disguised myself as an electricity pylon and counted the grains of corn as they fell from the brightly coloured wagon. I noticed the largest window was broken.

I guarded the wagon train while the polar bears played outside. I came home with arrows in my hat and penguins in my pocket.

My Diary

It was a snow and ice covered morning. As we live on the tip of a needle I had to climb down very carefully (with bat wings on my hat) in case I slipped and opened up the bag I was carrying. I had to crawl past the place where the engines lived. I imagined them reincarnated in wood dangling above the pine trees. I thought I would walk the tree instead of the dog.

It was a busy day, walking on a mirror, looking down and up at the same time. I have now learnt my steps so the daily dance was easy to complete. At a gap in the temporal hedgerow I memorised the best pages of the book I had close to me. I tied the covers and counted down the numbers ready for the lift-off.

Incidentally, if time had a face it would be frowning.

My Diary

Another day working in an Arabian Market. I served Sinbad the Sailor before he embarked on his travels. We both had men on our backs. I pulled the genie out of my pocket and began to draw a parrot on the floor. It flew away immediately after I joined up it’s dots.

The goblins next door have burnt down the houses where the little people lived. They will now have to live in the undergrowth by our ponds. This will be OK as the frogs have gone into the subterranean chambers where everyone shines like gold. The little person in our shed is called Fred the Artist. The geese kept to straight lines as his silent figure saluted the sky.

Ali Baba held the rope while I climbed up it. All I had to do was tie a knot in the end after the birth of an idea.

My Diary

I worked hard on the deck of an old time sailing ship, washing the long hair that cascaded down from the mast (where I have to tie myself periodically). I smiled at the secret agents and then smiled at the office workers dressed like penguins. I knew they had torn up all the secret documents and tied them to the tails of foxes. During lunch I made a mosaic from ripped up photos and used it to determine the age of the universe. It is now over 50 years old.

It was a better day today, the strange veiled figures were still in evidence but the cackling had stopped around the cauldron. Steam issued from the vents in the floor where the deep sea creatures hide and sunlight came through the windows where the light bulbs had blown. The piles of bronze age coins I found last week now add up.

I worry about the tramps that move in an out of my sleep – even though I am a cat man and have nine ages.

My Diary

I thought the floor seemed strange but I didn’t realise until later that I had been working on top of an alligator. It must have been a very big one as there was a block of flats on it’s tail. The flag flew at half mast. I scrambled between the tank traps, continually coming across myself by surprise. Every time I did so the cranes took flight, some heading south. I lifted my skirt and a diesel, circa 1962, sped out – it pulled nine carriages and the partially decomposed body of a Red Indian chief.

I kept four books under my hat, I would pull one out and push one in with a single arm movement. With the other arm I flagged down a passing cavalcade of long dead heroes. One of the books I had never read.

I opened the door (there was a quiet knock) and a prehistoric monster sat on the step. It couldn’t have been after the cream as we reluctantly buy our milk from a supermarket. t

My Diary

Out in the morning, travelling along a magic sword blade to the hilt. Once there I had a cheese roll and saw the figure with a garden in his hair. I acknowledged the wisdom of the old days and came home inside a football. I scored three goals before getting back.

Once home I had to saw the wood which had formed a halo over the house. The severed halo still shone like a crown on a kittens head. I couldn’t make the wood fit.

At night I walked the dog along it’s shadow and found a letter I dropped in an earlier life. It apologised for getting lost. It was a milder night and the spirits that shift between painting and garden were laying languidly in the three quarter light. I tucked the other quarter under my arm and read the newspaper in the dark.