I had a dream last night, one of those anxiety-ridden ones in which I'm in danger of missing a bus/boat/train/plane and I haven't got everything I need to take with me. At one point I'm looking in through the windows of a house in which I used to live. It's dark outside where I am - inside all the lights are on. There's something in there I want but I don't know what it is.

Now, here's the weird bit - down the dark path on which I'm standing comes a head of broccoli, separated…

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D'you ever have those days when you're convinced it's Saturday even though you know it's Tuesday? When there's a slight disconnect in your brain and you have to keep checking that you haven't pulled the plug out altogether?

In a way it's a good state for writing, but not necessarily for crossing the road or cooking dinner. But on the other hand the computer is probably burning up my brain, which Will Not Help.

So here I am just dribbling out the words. The final…

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When my ex-husband left his first wife she sent him to a psycho-therapist in Hampstead. She was called Miss Magagna and he lay on a couch for the sessions. After a few weeks of this he told Miss M that he didn't want to see her anymore because (he said) it wasn't helping. She sent him a letter expressing her disappointment (or somesuch) and wondering whether the real reason that he didn't want to continue with the therapy was that he wanted (subconsciously or otherwise) to have sex with her.…

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I stood on the hill, my back to the house, my face to the wind. When I turned there was a fish on the veranda. I pointed it out to my friend. He said it was a cat, not a fish, and when I looked again I saw that he was right. I felt, by turns, foolish and bemused, for I had definitely seen a fish. A fish out of water.

Yesterday I woke up with eleven toes. I wiggled them, pulled off the extra one, planted it in a small pot and watched it immediately sprout sea-green shoots, which I ate for my breakfast.

Just as I'd finished eating, a hedgehog with shiney purply-grey spines bounced onto my windowsill, and then through the open window into my kitchen. My hands had grown scales, so I could pick him up without injury and replace him in the night garden. He looked as if he wanted to speak but I…

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I had to ring the tax office with an enquiry and a helpful man answered the phone.

While he was talking I heard a couple of beeps."Did you hear that?" he asked. I told him that I had and he said it was the sandwich trolley. "I often wonder what people think it is," he continued.

Me, I found it curious to be sharing a laugh with the taxman.