Monthly Archives: December 2014

21/12/2007 I was out as early as possible from the hover house overlooking the boat yard – this is where the seventeen children I once was grew fruit and then secretly ate them. I went out in desert clothes and … Continue reading →

21/12/2014 I went to town instead of tending to the once magical garden (all the garden statues were as silent as a pair of gunfighters). June and I took the mule trail to town, stopping off for a meal at … Continue reading →

14/12/2007 The day opened its mouth and I shot out astride a torpedo; my target had a multitude of tiny feet and managed to escape. I chased the invisible sirens with a paintbrush. I then draped myself on ancient masonry … Continue reading →

14/12/2014 The garden has aged this year and I unfolded a worn sheet of paper as I went outside with my childhood wrapped up like a compass in a tractor tyre. It meant to show all the places I wanted … Continue reading →

07/12/2007 A tree was felled in the living room as I pogosticked down the gilded stairs. I took the jeep out for a walk as the dog drove the general to his next ladies tea party. I only had time … Continue reading →

07/12/2014 The rain prophesied by the patina on the back of a stag beetle never came so June and I went out (both dressed as penguins, just in case). The voices in my head refused to speak to me although … Continue reading →