In times of war, famine and other straightened circumstances there seems to be a premium on butter. The same applies in prison, although what is served as "butter" is stretching the term beyond reason.
Small square catering tubs about an inch square, filled with some vegetable derived spread of unknown constituents; these are portioned out as if they were sprinkled with some precious metal. Hence the perpetual call on the landings, "Has anyone got any butter...?" For being a hungry bunch and not fed well, buttered bread or crackers fill a gap for the night.
All of this came to me as a potent mark in my change of status as I stood in the kitchen making toast. With a full butter-dish I realised that I no longer had to spread the butter micrometers thick.
The daily life of the free man is comprised of a thousand unnoticed instances such as this.
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Incarceration is rehabilitation spread thin.
ReplyDeleteDon't be surprised Ben if it is more than 'a thousand unnoticed instances such as this'!!!
ReplyDeleteNice pictures on FB.
I recently found your blog and am finding it fascintating on many levels. I have my own "Prisoner Ben", he was released this past Friday after a year as a guest of the government of the US. White collar, retaliation for a whistleblower suite. Clearly that whole protection for whistleblowers things was a farce. He's been telling me many stories about his time, and he mentioned butter! Even across the pond it's the same... I look forward to reading about your successful re entry to the world. Thank you!
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