6:51am
I’ve been laying in bed for the past 12 minutes since my alarm went off dreading this moment when I absolutely have to get out of bed if I’m going to have any chance at all of getting to my colleague’s car at the agreed upon time. I roll over and let my legs dangle, my left big toe grazing the sheepskin rug I found in the closet of this flat when I moved in. I sit up and slide open the top drawer of my nightstand revealing a pharmacopeia of “just in case” tablets and sprays. When did I collect so many? I pop in a Sertraline that sticks to the back of my tongue and tastes bitter until I wash it down with a bit of the water left in the jar from last night. I drop into what’s left a supposedly orange-flavored multivitamin and watch it fizz away, dissolving into an odd neon tangerine color. I knock it back, white-knuckled, like a shot of whiskey. The saccharine flavoring is a lot for me in the morning, but I’m doing my best to combat the winter and heard somewhere that vitamins are absorbed better as liquid. I remember my vitamin D tablet then and, without any Dayglo-tinted water left in the cup, I toss it in my mouth, swish it around with a bit of orange-flavored saliva, and swallow it whole.
8:43am
My colleague and I race from the car park through the automatic doors and past security, whipping off our coats and throwing our bags through the x-ray machine. As is the case every day for one reason or another, I beep as I go through the metal detector and have to be hand scanned. We left at 7:45 – right on time – but the traffic was mad and we’re late. I’m not worried about the students who don’t usually arrive until 5 past 9 and I’m not even worried about my boss. I’m worried about my breakfast. I’ve stopped trying to force down anything in the first rushed moments of these absurdly early mornings and opt to hold off ‘til I get to work when there’s usually plenty of time. But today, my heart is racing as my tummy rumbles and my sleepy eyes beg for a caffeine fix.
I pass the first door, which has been left open for me, but get stuck at the next, having to wait for my colleague to come back and open it. Seven doors locked by electronic buzzers and key fobs later, I’m in the staff kitchen of the college in the maximum-security prison where I work. I’ve got no time to waste and get right to microwaving my porridge. I prefer pinhead oats – what we, back home, call “steel cut” – because their texture is firmer and can withstand swimming around in boiling water for overnight oats. Today, I mix them with a bit of crunchy natural peanut butter, fruit and nut muesli, clear honey, cinnamon, and ground chia and flax seeds. While they’re sat still, radiating in the microwave with the broken turntable, I get the kettle boiling and prep the Aeropress. I keep my coffee grounds in two small plastic tubs in the tiny open shelf that constitutes the freezer portion of the mini-fridge, partially to keep them fresh, but mostly to keep them away from prying colleagues’ hands. Not many are bold enough to venture there.
I ate. I drank. I was contented.
10:45am
Snack time! I eagerly consume my morning banana. The top has been squashed in my bag and is a bit soft and gooey, but I greedily eat it anyway and guzzle some cold water from my bottle with the silver monogrammed heart sticker on the cap.
12:30pm
Lunchtime is upon us. I’ve decided this week to buy soups from Sainsbury’s refrigerated section. I figure I’ll be cooking for Thanksgiving all week and won’t have the time, nor the fridge space to hold many leftovers and will be happier to know my lunches are taken care of in advance. Today I’ve gone with the red pepper and lentil soup. I wash out a bowl from the cupboard, wondering disgustedly what the bright yellow stain inside it might be from and pour in half the soup. While it’s heating, I uncover the hidden toaster – a device considered contraband in the prison and I have no idea how someone managed to sneak it in – and place inside it one of my whole wheat pita breads. I feel thankful I found my plastic two-tiered lunchbox last night because it’s got its own plastic cutlery inside. I hate using the plastic toddler spoons in the staff kitchen, but can’t get a proper utensil past security, so until now I’ve been stuck.
The soup wasn’t half bad. It was warmly spicy and filling, though it’s left me a bit bloated and uncomfortable for my upcoming class. I make a second cup of coffee in my mug with the sticker I made for my radio show on Radio Buena Vida here in Glasgow. Usually my after-lunch cup is decaf, but that’s not going to cut it today. The guys come in poking fun of me for being late to class. For being criminals, they sure are sticklers for the rules. I down the rest of the cup and head out.
3:30pm
Half hour to go. The librarian, both a prisoner and my work buddy, pops by the class to give me a sweetie. It’s a hard candy wrapped tightly in crinkly purple cellophane. It tastes of black current until you reach the middle, which contains a sticky gummy anise treat. What a lovely pick-me-up.
4:45pm
I stop at the giant ASDA on my way home desperately seeking Trex. It’s the vegetable shortening I need to make piecrust and it’s nearly impossible to find in this city. Yesterday I received two incredibly loving text messages from friends who’d been out trying to hunt it down for me, but who couldn’t find it. Back home we don’t have this brand. Everyone who uses it, uses Crisco, and it’s sold in large tubs instead of the small boxes Trex comes in because…why wouldn’t it be? The stuff lasts forever and, as far as I’m aware, is only used in large quantities. I wouldn’t mind so much that they’re smaller here except that they’re so hard to find, so when I do see them, I buy the whole stock. Today that means 8 boxes. Thanksgiving is saved! I also picked up some vegan cream cheese with the idea of making cheese balls as hors d’oeuvres beside the walnuts. I think I’ll make one sweeter with dried cranberries and one more savory with herbs and garlic. I also manage to find two cans of pumpkin puree that I’ll need for the Pumpkin Espresso Bundt Cake I’m making.
7:15pm
It’s leftovers for me tonight. The same weird shells I cooked last night only this time I’ve added vegan Parmesan to the top. I managed to find more vegan Parmesan at ASDA after they were out of it at Lidl, so the bit I had left is no longer as precious a commodity. I add a bit of balsamic vinegar and a spoonful of the kalamata olive tapenade and stir it through making squidgy noises as the fork moves its way throughout. I think what it really needs is the sharpness of capers, but I’m hoping, in some sort of food math, that these two will equate to those. In the end, it tastes just about as boring and strange as it did last night, but it’s warm and I’m hungry.
9:20pm
I’m feeling a little stressed that I didn’t cook tonight for Thanksgiving, but I also know it’s still a bit early and I’ve done most of what I can do this many days in advance. I’ve got almost all the groceries I need now and am only missing a few ingredients. I need more cinnamon, a couple heads of cauliflower, some kale and other greens. I’ll buy those tomorrow and get cooking again. Tomorrow is actual Thanksgiving, but if I’m thankful for anything this year, it’s that I’ve given myself until Sunday.
This week we’ve very excited about having giacinta frisillo sharing with us from Glasgow via New York: giacinta frisillo (she, they) (@giacinta_frisillo , @_glovestory_) is a visual and performance artist and community educator. she loves cats and hates capital letters. This week, giacinta is having a Thanksgiving meal, feeding friends, serving them with the best autumnal foods and we are looking forward to hearing threads of her thought processing what Thanksgiving means to her.
As ever, get in touch if you too would like to have a week writing on the Gazette, it’s open to all. Best,
Sinae+Kate