I felt cold in the night (even though we are in a heat wave) and I snuggled up to a yak which was feeding in the far corner of the bedroom.  I got up in a daze with a chimney on my head, from which white doves flew, and spoke to a number of different versions of my wife - at least one of which had smoke issuing from the front of her dress.  I had to prepare all afternoon for my chance meeting that evening with an adolescent gorgon - the snakes on her head had newly emerged from their eggs.

I went out of the door very early before it spoke; it whistled as I walked down the road carrying a spade and a sod of earth.  I met the old man under a mushroom and we ate strawberries.  I came home riding a gooseberry with several letters tied to my head instead of a hat; June was trying to climb the dog which was pretending to be K2.  I decided to fly over the buildings and hid in the one cloud that was sailing over head - I descended to the ground as the only raindrop to fall today.

I started the day paper thin with an obscure message scrawled on me.  I took the message to a good friend to read; he gave me seventeen sentences, I gave one to June before listening to a running commentary emanating from the blocked in fireplace - NB all the women in my head had tennis rackets for hands.  I shook rackets with stars and collected pictures of my ancestors as they toiled in the fields when Catherine The Great sped by in a limousine she borrowed from an American president.

I spent the morning standing on the scaffolding erected outside the giant clock face while work men attempted to attach new hands. I offered to attach ones that moved slower but my proposal was rejected by the temporal committee.  As the sun got hotter I painted handshakes on two pence coins - once I collected them all together they touched the gilded gesso ceiling and several versions of Samson pushed them apart after I had notified the landlord that several slates had slipped down on the roof.

The Faerie Queene allowed me to work in the garden during the hottest part of the day so I wore my caterpillar suit and antenna.  June crossed the road as a woolly bear while I planted roses in my typewriter.  The little pixie child became a cheerleader and I wrapped the house in cellophane and waited for a procession of marching boots and shoes.  When the elemental people had left I ate a coal sandwich and made by hands dirty in the daisy pits.  When the siren sounded I walked the dog in bare feet.

I decided to spend the day signing my name on a multitude of small boulders that had been deposited in the garden overnight.  I only came inside to work when my pen ran dry.  Once inside I was startled when the walls became hands wringing themselves dry.  Beyond pressed fingers clerics dressed in black put up boxes and fed wild animals with kitchen left overs.  I rung the bells and waited for the black shapes to escort me to work with their chants contained in cartoon speech bubbles.

June and I stood on flying playing cards as we dragged the cat woman to the vets.  We collected her later as a model in a glossy magazine.  In another corner of our domestic universe I held up the roof of the ancient temple when one of the marble pillars took its bucket and spade to the seaside for the day.  I had my head shaved by a couple of passing rooks while I stood occupied by childhood thoughts and the image of a rowing boat carrying my parents and I to the jetty on the other side of the river.

I slept on the floor with Isis in the narrow tunnel that connected the Great Pyramid with the box of chocolates that had remained behind the sofa since Christmas.  Shadow Man drew swastikas on the sofa as I pulled the curtains apart revealing a crucified penguin on a seaside rock cross stuck into the main road outside our house.  The penguin metamorphosed into a heavenly dragonfly and ascended into the space between the top of my easel and the ceiling put up by labourers between the wars.

I woke up chained to the floor in a dimly lit room, my gaoler was a stuffed parrot with flashing light emitting diodes as eyes.  I couldn't go out as usual so I taught it to speak.  I was half way through well known phrases from the complete works of Shakespeare when my wife informed me that people were being posted through the letter box.  I rung the post office dressed as Merlin and standing on a box that contained the remnants of a space craft that had crash landed in the back garden.

I slept on a wallpaper pasting table and got up very straightened.  I thought of new directions to go in a multidimensional universe when being measured for the space capsule.  Holding on to a lawn mower I dictated secret messages to my secretary and then orbited the Earth as an escaped continent with a queue of people wanting to settle it.  I invented the concept of the kite god on my return to level ground.  My wife was dancing inside a plastic milk bottle and I could see Isis was still licking her stitches.

I stepped out of the open mouth and then annoyingly went back inside again.  The smoke people drifting along outside the blinking eye window reminded me that I had an appointment so I had to rush to get ready - I bathed with a jet pack and roller skates already attached to my exoskeleton.  June had gone out wearing a modestly sized trading estate instead of clothes so I got all the animals ready for their school lessons and then signed a letter as Jane Eyre.  I opened the door in my torso and climbed in.

The floor was sloping at approximately 45 degrees when I tried to find my breakfast bowl among the remains of several rodent commando submarines.  I put a two dimensional version of the First World War between the pages of a book of Nineteenth Century love poems, drew a door in the wall and walked through it.  The rain was shining outside so I pretended to swim in the garden among the dolphin flowers and rose fish.  A face at least twenty feet across looked over the roofs without blinking.

Today is going to be a hard week and I started the day lying on the remains of a giant octopus that emerged through the lavatory pan reciting the names of Christian martyrs from the days of ancient Rome.  I combed three hairs which I accidentally found on my head and then fragmented into four people, two of which were dressed in remnants of old curtains.  I stood on a stone plinth before calling out my name in several colours - my favourite colour was pink and it later walked me to work.

I had a brief respite from the procession of battleships sailing by firing at anything that moved.  In celebration I pushed a row of small plastic windmills into the front garden and wrote a phrase from the Koran on my bandana.  The ostrich men were rooting about in the garden hoping to unearth some gossip - I kept some in glass jars just in case.  The translucent girl at the top of the garden was wearing lips on her transparent dress by default and I  placed a propellor on my nose and climbed into the clouds.

I couldn't leave my studio as I had to watch Isis as she transformed into a butterfly; the ghosts of ancient Egyptian wives were heard chattering in the secret rooms below the house.  I descended the stairs dressed like a French waitress to get their orders.  All the faces that hovered outside the door had pointed ears and I whispered to myself more than once.  Once June returned (pirouetting into the room with a deformed dwarf wrapped round her neck) I prepared myself for another shift in the lunar pits.

I went out early before the smoke settled on the foundations of a fast food joint that occupied the space were the lawn once sat.  I spoke to the old man as we both laid on slices of cheese on toast; he held on to a stick of rhubarb and I squeezed a ripe strawberry.  After cutting down a handful of small trees I changed myself into a jig saw and then rearranged some of the pieces - I subsequently came home with my underpants on my head and my legs pushing through the bottom of a big hat.

I have had a busy week cleaning the shoes of the tight rope walkers that read the news over our heads.  I listened to their voices as I carried another pail of water to the summit.  I had a little time to fence in small packages of space each of which will be sold online by unscrupulous dealers.  I listened to the tin men as I worked, some were held in check by pieces of string - I followed one of these to the Minotaur's den only to discover it had the head of a grey squirrel holding a nut.

The werewolves were howling outside as I checked the time.  I was wearing asses ears and I decided to have them pierced for gold earrings.  Brushing the fallen masonry from the night before aside I ran to the control room almost tripping over a miniature version of myself which was dismantling a jigsaw on the kitchen floor - I couldn't make out the picture on the front although I noticed one of the people had three legs.  Once sat in my ejection seat I read the paper upside down and sharpened my pencil.

I woke up tired holding an apple with an arrow in it.  I put this on an ash tray last used by Winston Churchill and made rolling hills out of a paper handkerchief; I pictured sheep feeding in the distance on these and whispered something to myself.  I then painted circles while June talked to herself - a car stopped outside driven by pixies, the smallest pixie had just found a pheasant in a bag and breathed life into it.  As the car vanished into the distance (smoking a cigar) I put my plans into my pocket.

I woke up with large wings pinned on my shoulders as well as feeling slightly unwell.  I had to pull myself though a tunnel made by glass marmalade jars and then an orange striped door before I could push a button in my studio.  Unusually my studio was encased in marble with the shadows of classical sculptures showing outside.  I called some lost names but no one answered.  My friend the bird goddess disappeared today, I threw rose petals into the stream and called myself the flower portal.

June went out early, she travelled along a tube that pushed through the bedroom wall.  I had a lay in after going to bed with a bulls head on my shoulders the night before.  I finally got up when several meteorites smashed into the back garden waking the rabbit.  I put on a model of a Sixties skyscraper instead of clothes and ate straw before the postman  knocked on the door dressed like Achilles.  I worked in my studio like a Trojan until June returned holding several pieces of string and a plastic penguin.

I had to make as many plasticine crowns and sceptres as I could for the childhood coronation before riding a war chariot to the veterinary surgery.  Having already surreptitiously stuffed a skull and crossbones down my trousers I blew a bugle and rushed into the room were the cannon ladies would take aim.  After the battle I slunk home holding a child of King Kong and a cousin of a skyscraper, tied myself into a bow tie and got ready to perform in front of an audience of antartic pygmies.

I took the paper train to the countryside where ivy clad people clashed with those having holly hair.  I was flannel man and worked in the rain.  I had to saw up the remains of Noah's Ark which we had discovered in the back garden just behind the giant tortoise that had held the world aloft.  I came home in a cardboard tube but had to emerge quickly like a caddis fly who was late for a party.  After a short spell on Easter Island I flew a flying saucer to the dinner table where it disappeared.

I started the day as a red line in a green field, metamorphosing into a small voice residing at the bottom of a large box.  My wife shook the box and I fell out among the grains of rice holding onto a cat whisker.  Later I played against myself in the sports field, simultaneously winning and losing before walking to the arena where the lions were having singing lessons - the ten green bottle customers were falling as my wife rode by astride a dragon (I waved as the sperm whale dived).  I came home wet.

After an early morning swimming in a bowl of leek soup I had to stand as a sentry while the plastic soldiers massed below the parapet.  I tried to remain as still as I could and watched the little trucks weave in and out. After lunch the worm people emerged from their holes to see what was going on.  I turned over another page and found myself having dinner with a band of Spartan warriors.  We came home late holding onto seaweed and tresses of dolls hair.  I went to sleep in a wine glass.

I had a lay in (after hearing the vampire trees calling as they settled back in their day time hiding places) and finally got up holding fifteen cups off tea and wearing shredded wheat earrings.  June was watching a saw cut a neat hole in a ceiling and a garden gnome climb down - I decided not to buy a plastic obelisk for the oval flower bed.  We went to town wearing ejection seats from a downed Lockheed starfighter.  I came home quite soon after carrying cans of praying mantids and a stick of paper glue.

I had another calm morning sailing in an ice yacht across a placid icing sugar lake.  I wore the head-dress of a long gone North American India tribe and later waded into the water with lipstick marks collected on a neatly folded sheet of paper.  I sang in the depths with eight tailed mermaids before coming to the surface like a Roman candle.  When I entered the chapel I noticed dozens of screwed up pieces of paper; I arranged them as a robins nest and waited for Zeus to descend in a shower of gold.

The morning opened like a tin can.  I pushed my arm through the ceiling holding a sword while the mechanical cockerel recharged its batteries and the orange zephyr man retraced his steps along the parapet.  Poppy the dog and I played chess as a giant tongue slowly pushed out of the door way with a mock up of a new housing estate made from surplus packaging situated at the end.  I collected up all my cellophane dreams and put them in my haversack ready for a trip to work.

June got up early to collect her new insect eyes while I went down later with my mouth wide open like a basking shark.  We both swallowed sundry clockwork mechanisms as the umbrella people saw us home.  I drew a chair on the floor so that that a likeness of the unknown soldier could pull it from under me during a game of musical chairs.  June decided to put a shovelful of earth on a flag and then pretend to wave it.  I then put a toy car on my head and then drove to the sackcloth shop.

I had an early start, catching the silver spoon express and talking to myself reflected in a fairy's pool - I cast my stones and asked some questions and came home with pots that gold can be kept in.  When I opened the door June was holding a small princess that had ascended through a crack in the floorboards; we embraced and then decided to go on an invisible crown adventure.  I jumped on my invisible chariot and we sped down the tracks - closely followed by an invisible steam engine.

Apparently I woke up reciting names from a telephone directory - I was fully awake by the time I got to Abraham leading the Jews to the promised land.  I started the working day with delta wings and had to sit at my easel like a pterodactyl.  While June encased herself in a prescription capsule I scribbled eyes on the back of my head and prepared to leave the house backwards.  We took a trip to the home of the blackboard dragon and wiped it out with a proprietary cleaner.

The morning appeared as an apparition before a fractured mirror - two people were enacting a scene from a shadow puppet theatre.  In the first act I got a screwdriver and screwed myself into a piece of rough wood which had got washed up onto to the beach in early medieval times; June, meanwhile went to the turf town dressed in flower petals and carrying a child in a jar of iridescent bubbles.  In act two I changed into a frog spawn mutant and my wife floated into other realms.

June and I leapt between boulders as a long length of curtain formed a stream.  Every now and then a pixie would emerge; sometimes in boots and other times barefoot, some times holding a pterodactyl feather and other times a bird.  We fed the ducks by a place of learning and came home by submarine under the ocean of human history.  I pretended to be a book god while everyone else was pages.  I pulled out the bookmark before preparing for work - immediately after there was a knock on the door.

I had some time to myself, resting in a wine glass cast aside by the god Thor after he had ordered another pizza.  The smiling face which I kept in a drawer with my late mother's jewellery was being polished as I ascended into the stratosphere holding onto a copy of the 1963 Rupert Bear annual.  I learned a jig in the magic garden before lending it to Toby so that he could redesign his life among the puppet creatures and string vests.  I changed my T-shirt for a  lace blouse and pretended to be a curtain.

I pressed a number of brightly coloured buttons which mysteriously appeared above the breakfast table as I watched several mermaids playing with a beach ball in my cereal bowl.  After flitting about the room like a butterfly I pushed my pet combine harvester down the crack between the cement mixer and the standard lamp before writing the lines given to me by my headmaster thirty years ago.  I sent an envoy to his house but he returned covered in fungus and great bustard feathers.

June and I left the house before the giant plane had removed another layer of our fruit cake house.  The shavings were piled up and then cemented to the Neolithic plinth with large quantities of wood glue.  June carried a small chimney sweep to the edge of the known world while I held up a statue of the Egyptian goddess Isis like a price fighter holds up his belt - I then imagined a battle where the protagonists had to hold up their trousers with their sword arms.  I had to go out in the evening holding a plastic cup.

I had to go out early, even though I was even more tired than usual.  Along the skyline I could see the sails of ancient galleons which had lost their way during their migration to warmer parts of human history.  I had some time watching the grey people perform, remembering what I had done when I was a matchstick in a matchbox, before sailing home myself.  I got in disguised as a lunch box and went to meet the leprechauns who were rehearsing a play about spiritual ground sloths for their old school reunion.

I commenced the proceedings without a face (having to sketch in something rather too quickly before the knock appeared at the door).  After the support act had draped bunting on high voltage electricity pylons I ripped up several paintings and then randomly assembled them again, pretending that the end result was a map to the female vampire's lair.  In the evening I was told I had toothache while Carol tied up all the bags which contained the biographical extracts from a multitude of unknown writers.

The fabric man touched the paper lady as the door slammed and I pulled myself out of bed using a complicated system of pulleys and well known hair cream.  I remembered the names of the argonauts and went through the pockets of the grey man who had arrived by parachute while I was feeding the albino frogs in their battle tank.  They were auditioning for a positions in the orchestra which was setting up in the garden after the dragonflies had cleared the air space of potential threats. 

I was strung up with cobwebs as the dancing girls announced that my teeth ached to the four dimensional sheikh who had recently arrived from the desert between the sideboard and the fireplace.  I put several lumps of artificial coal into the cupboard before switching on the television screen in the middle of my chest.  I didn't like the program that was showing so I pulled several radioactive crayons from my pocket and drew a smile on the coal face.  Several clouds sailed by giggling and touching their hems.

I started he day reading a book in the middle of a ring of smoke slowly rising to the ceiling; once I got there I popped a balloon which said "Hello to the Sea Sprites" and rung the dentist.  I rode to the surgery on a white charger, picking up dirt and refugees from a Martian methane lake in the process.  The automatic hands clapped as the X-ray failed to shine - several ghosts resembling the bed linen of Queen Elisabeth the first were all that showed in the photo surreptitiously given to me by a cold war spy.

I continued taking my tablets as the day dropped below the laboratory desk and re-emerged bristling with hair and frothing at the mouth.  I wrote my name in lipstick on the bathroom mirror before making a model of the garden I grew up in and then accidentally sitting on it when I stopped to read the newspaper upside down.  After I had crawled out of the nose of the crashed missile I attempted to draw a straight line before my wife had knitted a curved one.  I knew my name was echoing in deep space.

I had my hair cut as the sky turned red and the end of the world was prophesied by a little bent backed lady emerging from a lake fifty pound notes.  I swam in my breakfast bowl and ran in the garden before it became the flight deck of an aircraft carrier in the second World war.  I heard kamikaze insurance salesmen splatter against the windscreen of the huge train engine as it sped across the page of a giant book.  I annoyed my teacher my folding the edge of the page over and then scribbling in the margin.

I took a slow train to the crop circle man who was holding up part of the universe.  I waited for several stars to fall before buttering my toast; the bread for some reason had the imprint of a Spartan warrior from the battle of Thermopylae on it.  After moving through the ruins of a classical bathroom I visited friends who were dressed as large black birds sat on telephone wires.  I followed the cable back home (sparks emerging from my steel claw).  Once back home I put a May pole on my head and danced round it.

I started the day in a rodeo, riding a padded armchair which was jumping everywhere.  I managed to hang on until dinner when I became airborne with the wings I had borrowed from Pegasus - June having purchased a lawnmower and fifteen blades of grass to cut.  I sprinkled flour on my hair (at approximately the same place that a hedgehog had metamorphosed into a comic book hero) and jumped down from the tree of knowledge.  I came home from work saying several sentences simultaneously.

I put a white sheet over my head and pretended to be a ghost.  This was OK until I met a real ghost with a luminous version of the Bayeau tapestry covering its head.  I placed my best china on the table cloth which was moving towards me in a measured way and slipped into something more comfortable - I emerged several hours later wearing part of chimney and a short piece of roof.  The temporal goddess came in to see if I was all right,  I poured her a cup of tea from the teapot brassiere I was wearing as a joke.

I finished the tablets and came down to earth with parts of a Russian satellite tangled in the goats hair I was wearing on my chest (the goat and I were good friends having already run off to sea together).  I had to oil my six guns before I went out in the garden where June and I weeded the car parts we use in lieu of flowers - we later sat on a rusted chassis listening to muted voices as a procession of horned people went by en route to a Viking funeral; I rescued the dog and wrote the libretto for a caveman opera.

I managed to extract myself from the spider web in time to wave to the small collection of family members who were walking to town without me.  I had a little more time to draw a collection of black circles before they returned wearing haloes and holding books with pages that had faded with the passage of yet more time.  I moved into a completely different universe and said hello to the husband of a friend.  Later I heard from a dark cloud who was hovering over the head of the Black Knight.

The family went out for the day to the citadel founded by the ethereal people (related to the immortal spiders); we watched as land crabs climbed ropes to retrieve messages left by their antediluvian ancestors - I contemplated the rope that hung over me but cut it with the sword of Damocles.  We spent some time eating crumbs that had fallen off the bird table but eventually had to come home where I dressed as Noah with ladies underwear.  Later I went out to find where I had parked the ark.

It was a hot morning and I took refuge in a palm hut which was perched on the head of an African princess recently emerged in the middle of the fairy ring I had been painstakingly tending.  I watered the lawn we keep on the windowsill and then marched up the hill wearing white doves as earrings - I had previously fed the slaves that toiled in the subterranean gardens - when I came down the hill again all the chess pieces had been knocked over and the big cat had swallowed the tiny man sent to catch him.

I left the children's book I was performing in very early, escaping by holding on to a speech bubble as it ascended from the page.  After a drive through the Khyber Pass I held my bag like a military medal from The Great War and knocked on the Giant's door.  The plants in the garden were so high I had to hold my flag aloft but I still managed to find where the Snail King lived.  We came back together as fast as we dared.  I had to go out later to the dentist where I pretended to like a medieval instrument of torture.

I jumped out of a rough jute sack with straw as hair and soil from beneath Hadrian's Wall covering my cat claws.  Looking through the swish of a lion's tail I held the elfin child aloft as the evil tailors dummies shuffled along the hall - we then flew over villages from various ages of human history, finally landing in an Anglo-Saxon field system as the guest of Mr & Mrs Rook.  On the long walk home I attached the hind legs of an okapi and communed with the spirit of Isadora Duncan.

I walked on water from the bedroom door to the study where space rockets where being prepared for their launch.  The little girl jumped into my arms as the dinosaurs measured out a cricket pitch; she pretended to be a bird and I pretended to be a tree.  Later as the knights jousted in the dog kennel I painted bright pink fish on my armour and watched my miniature wife in her new dolls house blew psychedelic bubbles.  The sky put on bright pink lipstick and I sailed away on an eyelash yacht.

I put on a pair of bulldozers to walk the dog across the hot sand dunes as the sun waved its tendrils and a Nordic goddess descended from the polka dot clouds practising her sign language - we conversed in pidgin semaphore.  After making a jigsaw puzzle out of broken paving slabs she put a mermaid in her pocket and rode out of sight in a chariot pulled by purring kittens - I held my studio waste bin in my arms and composed a song about paper people living out their lives in the shadow of the shredder.

I observed the start of another working week astride my white charger who I called centipede.  We came to the castle of the Grey Knight and waded across the moat like space tourists.  I knocked on several doors at once and went inside.  I wondered why the floor had been washed in black ink but managed to sign my name on the cryptic coloured wall before the door of my childhood home closed.  I switched on my flash light in sync with my wife switching on the television.  I preferred to watch the torch.

Today was my only day I could call my own; it was christened in the stream from an anthropomorphic glacier who the ruling class of giraffes had previously named Tom.  Tom and I conversed across a card table - I had to remove my thorn covered gloves before I could make a working steamboat from several cartons of ice.  After drawing faces up a Belisha Beacon I came home with a ten pound note hidden in the turn ups of my trousers. June was selling tickets to a show which had already been cancelled.

After the curtains were drawn I settled down on a very large tooth - similar to the one I will have to have out in the near future.  The house was a head and I went into an eye socket to work.  When it blinked I got into my time machine and travelled to a happier period of my life.  I met  the bus stop philosopher again.  He showed me his collection of embalmed shrews and I pulled out a toy soldier.  Even then he was known to be living in only one room of a multi-storey bungalow.

I got up early (like every Thursday) and followed an ancient river to its source; there I sat in the water of a hot spring - not wearing any clothes, just a big sock which was drawn up over most of my body.  I came home pursued by oak men, traditional telephone kiosks replacing their little red caps.  Once home I walked towards Billy the Kid with acorns in my belt and an electric guitar balanced precariously on my head.  I played several chords before the dregs of day light disappeared from the red wine glass.

The day started with June and I sliding down a mountainside with a giant ball of fluff close behind.  I landed in my studio holding a cuttlefish while June landed in hospital visiting her brother.  I spent some time on a roundabout among white horses and a primitive mammal similar to a hippopotamus until the ropes descended from the gantry above my head and I became puppet for the evening.  The puppet master set fire to his moustache and then wrote a message on a slate in a Victorian class room.

I jumped out of the cow pat I had been sleeping in just as the telephone rang, I answered it as a cup of tea - a little bit later I spilt myself all over the living room floor; June came into the room dressed as a dish cloth so I pretended to be a hedgehog and got run over.  I came to as a salamander sitting in a fire (remembering the massacre of the Jews in medieval Cologne) and had to be put out before being able to sit at my desk and learn my sums.  I got to fourteen thousand and twelve before the monkey got down.

I started my day doing press ups on a minefield with June sat on my back remembering her trips to the seaside as a young girl and singing old cowboy songs.  I climbed inside one of the songs and waited for the clock to go round like a wagon wheel.  I had to leave my own memories behind as we went out for a meal although I came back early after hearing reports that Napoleon was assembling his troops on the waste land below the houses.  Pam was already there talking to several people at once.

It was Bank Holiday Monday and I washed my clothes in the thick wet mud of the garden, bringing them in when they were fully caked and I could hear a main battle tank revving up in the street.  I climbed down the barrel and painted a red kiss on the lichen covered branches inside.  For once the voices in my head matched those outside so I went out without saying a word.  I stuck a flag pole in each ear and walked up and down the road in front of the Dinky car the lost child had found in his pocket.

I spent the day as a member of the secret service (remembering that I have to go some when to have my tooth out); I disguised myself as a shrub rose with cameras hidden in the black spots on my leaves and microphones shaped like greenfly.  June sat with the gardener at the hospital while I stayed at home and painted, we both thought of small figures that are played with as children - both figures were girls, mine having railway tracks as clothes.  I saw the signal go down but I never left the station.

I spent much of the morning sitting on an arrow blade in the Battle of the Little Big Horn until I thudded into the back of the sofa where the cat was playing strip poker with itself.  I removed several acres of garden until I  could eat my dinner in my underpants - everyone else was wearing shuttlecocks.  The semitransparent people rested while I worked inside a sea shell which had been washed up on the shore beside the plug hole and bar of anthropomorphic soap. Later I went out.

After going to bed as an old man I woke as a young dolphin, the stairs were an ocean which I sank down.  My wife was dressed like a witch and I became a mountain that people climbed up.  The mountain went to town to meet the girl of the last piece of ancient woodland in England.  My father and his party went to lunch, the stereo was turned off while the candles played music at full volume.  I saw miniature Northern Lights in my vegetable curry and said hello to June with a bungalow in my mouth.

Having had breakfast in a glass vase on the mantelpiece I paced about on the left wing of a giant airliner waiting for the game to start.  When the animals arrived I closed the gate in my head and went upstairs to work.  The Smokeman sat in the corner coughing when June got in with a bag of earth to plant her new hairdo in.  I washed my feet in the floral patterned teapot and trundled down the road like a child's trolley - the man down the street sat on top with his legs in the air.

I climbed out of my friend "Frog Mouth" and did some exercises in a psychedelic goldfish bowl (the fish having gone to the seaside to get a sun tan), June had gone to the dairy to milk a celestial cow which had landed earlier on a journey from Alpha Proxima - I waved goodbye to the ship as it sped by with a souvenir from the Titanic attached to its side.  After breakfast I slid into a tablet bottle and dreamed of fish emerging from the earth and flying upwards.  June came back at twelve.

It was a nice day so I slid into the garden like a mythical serpent to work my magic (even though I was unaccountably tired); June had earlier walked out with the shredded scarf of Isadora Duncan tucked in her top pocket - it had aspirations to be a famous glove cruelly dashed by the cold hand of fate.  I felt even more tired as the forces of good and evil lined up on both sides of the fence.  I could hear the voices as the tiddly winks scattered and the sometimes people returned home.

I spent all day stripping wallpaper from the outside of the medieval castle which I had rescued from hostile forces during the English Civil War.  Daughters sprayed me with flowers as I walked home carrying a specimen bottle.  When I opened the front door a giant auk stood in the hallway threatening itself with extinction, I moved it aside and gave the budgie my last cigarette.  June came in much later with a canoe stuffed down her front having just seen the Lady of Shalott resting in the garden.

I felt ill so I couldn't lay a lawn at the feet of the Buddha as I planned and I skulked about inside like a root vegetable that had accidentally fallen into a mole run.  After a short period of dalek movements I planted several smily face stickers on the portrait of an ancient sovereign and found fourteen versions of myself in an old box I kept in the bathroom cabinet.  The stone throwers in their glass houses were sleeping so I had time to move my collection of mammoth memories from one screen to another.

I started the day trapped in a cobweb, I managed to take some tablets before the shuffling sound, so familiar from Tarzan movies, could be heard.  I surrounded myself with sugar cube figures (complete with miniature cannons which fired match sticks) and went to war.  I put the paint on the canvas as the previously unoccupied rooms filled up.  After a prolonged discussion about staging a ballet in a china shop I raised a glass of wine to friends, remembered and forgotten, and then went to bed.

I woke in a room full of a thick grey mist in which tall thin forms could be seen moving randomly around.  June went out for her daily vigil while I battened down the hatches and waited for the faces to emerge from the papered walls - voices congregated and dispersed in an aural brownian movement.  Much later I found one person alone on the screen.  I watched the shape on the screen all evening until June returned holding her memories in a jar.  We both talked to doors.

June spent most of the day at the hospice.  The puppet master wrote a book he would read again after he had died and I got the washing in before the cloud of dust reached the top of the page.  I jumped to a wet mud comic and had my lunch inside a speech bubble while everyone else floated in thought clouds; before long mud oozed out from all the cracks and crevices in the house - I called on my friends to don mouse suits and wait for the coloured lights.  I burnt a pan of rice as the darkness descended.

The shadow people enveloped another person this morning as angels lifted full dustbins over the roof tops.  I had an imaginary handshake with a kindly gentleman who did all he could.  I then stood with black doves and white crows along the roof eaves waiting for a star to ascend.  Fred the ghost sat inside, occasionally he looked under the bed to bring out a new toy to play with. We cast a model yacht into the air and it sailed away with small packets of our time locked up in the hold.

I woke a bright shade of green which I couldn't rub off and felt understandably perplexed as an articulated lorry climbed up my spinal column.  I had a day off from the cobweb factory so I put my extra four arms to good use pulling telegraph poles from the garden.  The giant head which I planned to grow baby plants in had split open and the small people with mouse whiskers were mopping up the contents of their spirit bottles.  I took my soul in my hands and used it to clean the windows.

My father's birthday, I gave him some old tin cans and a card.  Then I went out into the garden to pull rabbits out of hats - music was blaring from loudspeakers hidden in flower pots as the fairies danced around the fish pool - the dog nibbled a dinosaur bone.  I had a  lunch of photographs and eventually wrapped myself up in blankets left over from the Korean War.  June came down as a helicopter with goldfish swimming in her glass hat and picked me up like a man on stilts picking up a bread crumb.

I ate my breakfast on the back of a stuffed porcupine.  June and I then took a seal train to the shops were I bought a sheet of black and she chose piece of orange.  We put the orange in the sky just as the rain set in.  I came home wearing two coats while somehow she managed to have fourteen covering most of the non-walking parts of her body.  Once in I patted the carpet and took the dog out - the cat had a bouquet of flowers stuck in it.  We both pulled umbrellas out of our ears.

The day started badly as the escalator I constructed in the bathroom broke down before the blue green algae could evolve into a bath sponge.  I climbed down the coral encrusted stairs myself, glancing up as the big dipper hid a message in my underpants.  I dressed in a test tube which the ant people were using as a font, emerging sometime later dressed as clergyman and emulating a geyser from Yellowstone Park.  In the evening I turned round to speak to the congregation and the dog ate my dinner.

Out early, before the person trapped in a letter had a chance to arrive.  I spoke in blackbird, starling and then wood pigeon to the man who like birds (the telly had gone native and sat in the room in an animal skin with thigh bones instead of an aerial).  I cut the hedge between the lady made from old newspapers and the man made from strong cheese and then came home by stage coach - the Red Indians chased behind but didn't shoot the horses.  I only had time to draw a hat with arrows in before going out again.

June walked across the magic carpet early in the day on her way to work; by the time I got up it was already hovering several feet above the ground casting strange shadows of snakes and entwined bodies.  I saw faces in my muesli and then went out with several monkeys asleep in the hood of my coat.  I returned as a king of a cardboard land and put the remains of the bouquet in the mouth of the serpent.  Later I took a photograph of a pencil and went down the road as a Georgian farmer.

June left early, walking inside a paper Chinese dragon as it slowly ambled up the road; I rose like the god Poseidon armed with the lines I wrote after a misdemeanour at school.  A troop of ancient warriors (with lipstick marks on their swords) followed the lines to the oasis where parasitic plants blew bubbles from large voluptuous lips.  We talked in a tent before it got up and walked away - I had to give Ghengis Khan my spectacles before he tripped over one of the words I had written on the side of the Great Pyramid.

June went out early again - just before the ceiling turned into a pterodactyl wing and flapped away leaving me alone in a giant breakfast bowl looking up at a tortoise who had just landed by a pretty pink parachute.  I examined the shadows it cast on the side of the mausoleum as a totally reformed Jack the Ripper walked by with a fresh pancake on his head; he was muttering the names of people who died without becoming famous.  I stayed indoors and grabbed the grey stallion's reins from the safety of a day dream.

I opened my head like opening the door to the postman and receiving junk mail.  Several chairs had recently been upholstered and the windows shaped like eyes had new curtains made from pages of Famous Five books.  I had to test out the twelve labours of Hercules before I could settle down to work and was holding the world on my shoulders when the cat jumped up on my lap - we exchanged secrets from the Second World War before I pushed a recipe for a witches cauldron under the door.

I skipped out of the kitchen door just as the architect rolled up the children's play area and put it in his pocket.  I already had several bristle cone pines planted in the pockets of my jeans and I drew my water pistol out of my brief case which was walking along behind.  Dancing figures were reflected through the waterfall as I sat in my studio holding onto a pencil which reached from the floor to the ceiling.  After a quick lunch I became the human torch and followed a procession of paper people into town.

June opened the large wooden door and waltzed through, I followed behind holding onto the copper coloured leaves that Adam and Eve had decided not to wear.  As she turned into a cloud lady I looked up at the high vaulted ceilings and grabbed an umbrella - several Canada geese flew by in formation.  In the story book the little girl was carrying I became a king with a octopus balanced on my head in lieu of a crown.  I found the book again later in the day with one of the pages torn out.

I left the house early, before it yawned, and caught a fish on the main road; I wrestled with it for nine miles or more before relaxing in a talking chair and taking music directions from the tone deaf choir master.  The music in my head descended slowly through several stages of perception like the settling of artificial snow in a Christmas toy; once at the bottom of the hill I dusted myself off and went off to find Jack.  Jill had arrived home earlier and was pasting butterfly wings onto her new spectacles.

I got up and reflected on the transformation of our rented house into a rented pair of lips (they smile crookedly).  June was the dark pupil of a bungalow eye and winced as it blinked.  The family wore black as it congregated like rooks on an old tree to say goodbye. The dark sun shone and after the rose petal dust had settled I trudged home as a walking pine tree  - followed by my circus friends: the bearded man and the bearded lady; the latter yawned seductively and then made a little heart from spider web.

June went out (dressed as Lawrence of Arabia, complete with camel) so I took the opportunity to converse with the spirit people who had taken up residence in a discarded crisp packet dropped down behind the plastic waste bin - I never made contact, although I did have an earnest discussion with the bin itself .  June came back before dinner, having frustratingly lost the camel and having changed her costume into a set design for a performance of Giselle by the English National Ballet.

I had a day working in The Garden of Eden - the other occupants having mysteriously fled.  I made good progress, occasionally standing up to watch the snake headed women walk by (their partners having mirrors pinned to their chests).  I looked at my reflection in the polished sword blade and then delicately put in back in its scabbard (remembering that the river had been simplified to a silver knife).  When a friend came up the drive, two bricks, dislodged from a passing fairy castle, landed on his head

I got up as window cleaner, both feet stuck in pails of water, I waited several minutes for someone to swallow an alarm clock before learning to fly.  I glided through our hall floating approximately one point five metres above the laminated wood effect floor while balancing on a one cup tea bag (the tea bag had previously spoken to me in a dream).  When June came in, wearing high heels and walking on stilts I recited a well known poem backwards as she got a speck of dust out of my eye.

After performing exercises on a large piece of horizontal glass I phoned June using a small device hidden in a Barbie doll.  We decided to light a fire on the ornate carpet of a local restaurant; she bought the matches and I bought a couple of issues of a tabloid newspaper circa 1955.  After our meal I jumped in an old sack and waited for the first signs of autumn on a cracked pot from the late bronze age - she got the sheep down from their summer pastures as a Swiss railway locomotive trundled into the siding.

June had to go out, a bicycle in each pocket, to a large house up the road where old people ride pogo sticks and pull heads of barley out of their hair (I looked at a portrait of the artist jumping on a pogo stick in a mine field).  The dog and I communicated in her absence - I sat at the controls of the space ship and hovered above the moon.  The dog looked at Narcissus in the stream but decided to keep the one she had; this was all decided in the time it took for a small snail to climb the window pane.