Another fascinating exercise. I like how this is open to interpretation, but will end up in a similar result a million times over.

I never imagined I would make a puppet. But now I had my juggling balls, tweed suit, and bowler hat, a pocket mouse was the next step.

This story is a product of 330 seconds of automatic writing. 

It’s over two in the morning. I am the only one in the street with the lights on. Now the pubs have reopened, the drunks were back outside my window tonight. It crossed my mind that some of them might not exist. Or rather, existed at another point in time.

This is my favourite exercise so far. It is something you could recreate outside of the year long cycle with a handful of dice or another shuffled pack of cards. The Butter Mouse continues in his usual style of Welsh patois and linguistic clues. We are into the meat of his project.

When the sun returned after a week of rain I remember how nice Clifton can get. The sky is a uniform blue with the tiniest fluffy clouds stitched in. A perfect day for a long walk, or game of football.

This story is inspired by washing up the dishes with my cards tucked into my trouser pockets. My neighbour popped round to drop off some post put in the wrong pigeonhole, and her sharp raps on the door made me jump. 

I went for a stroll in the graveyard with my Butter Mouse suit on.

This week the Butter Mouse snatches a weird idea from the farthest territories of creative endeavours.

My bowler hat arrived today.

Sally the robot vibrated with excitement. The presenter squeezed his microphone. The camera operator tried to stop her hands shaking. Only the audience let their true emotions explode in a wave of screams and jumps. Many wore bright ‘Sally the Robot’ t- shirts, or home made cardboard headgear in the shape of her antenna.

Within seconds of folding my cards up I saw a little robot, holding out two welcoming arms. Until you read the story, there is not much else to say. You can see my set up below. 

No walks this week. My stomach is a bit churney after the encounter. In more paranoid moments I thought a grinning face would appear on the pavement if I went outside. Strict dashes to the supermarket in daylight hours are my only exercise.

At nine o'clock on Saturday night no drunks run between the pubs of Clifton. No students huddle in gangs. No one shouts after midnight. My only companion is the moon.  

This story is inspired by the axe shape of my cards, and the hearts found on three of the four. 

Two treats for you this week. I will run through the construction of my creative item, and I will be brave enough to tell you part of my Butter Mouse theory. 

Time for an extract from the Butter Mouse’s book. I appreciate that some of you will have to search your home for materials, but trust me, you will find something. Please ignore his ‘pop to the shops’ command. Get on with your creative project. 

Another dream about The Butter Mouse. He juggled near a stone building.

My plan this week skirts close to a fool’s errand. But in this year long challenge, we must consider the most tiresome question in writing.

This story is inspired by the King and Queen cards forming a couple,and the clubs swarming in great numbers.