Sgrall

I am with my father back in (a dreamescape approximation of) our old Largs home. We are in the garden discussing his plans to repair the dividing wall between ours and our neighbour's property. The wall as it exists looks fairly new with the exception of the middle third which, being of traditional stone, is aged and crumbling – it is also not as tall as the sections of wall to either side which, this odd interruption aside, do seem to flow height-wise as an intended whole. My father is saying how he will remove the older wall and infill that part as well as adding a metre or so in height along its entirety – as the neighbour's home is elevated it ought not to affect their vantage-

I am in an office contemplating whether I should accept an offer to travel solo to the moon – one sits cross-legged in a small spherical craft to make the journey (only I am unsure of my ability to fly such a machine). I am being coaxed by a Lewis Hamilton-alike who is already on the moon. Eventually, following much anxiety, I accept and (after a sudden dreamjump) am there, tucked into my little sphere all ready to go. Unfortunately, as smooth and problem free as the journey was, now that I have landed on the moon there is some fault with the sphere's mechanism that ought to provide me with food-

I am overjoyed when I realise that my friend Ayy Ess has a comic strip starting in the Daily Express newspaper, some futuristic tale about a mallet-headed individual who rides atop a flying, winged double decker bus – this is part of a feature announcing that the strip is 'coming soon'. I remark to Kay Emm that he had another strip a while ago but that it fizzled out somewhat-