How are you coping with the lockdown? Despite Mrs P's best efforts I'm struggling, well sort of... Photo / Michael Cunningham
How are you coping with the lockdown? Despite Mrs P's best efforts I'm struggling, well sort of... Photo / Michael Cunningham
ON THE SAME PAGE
A tad short of three weeks into my incarceration I've been thinking about life on the outside.
It would be fair to say the first week of my sentence passed by reasonably comfortably. The second a little less so as the routine became a bit mundane. Now into my thirdweek I can't wait to get my release papers - along with the rest of the country I'm sure.
Hopefully the powers that be will give us some clues soon as to when that might be. Happily Mrs P - aka the warden - has been doing her bit to keep my body and mind occupied. There's absolutely no chance of spending lockdown stuck in front of the telly on the couch at this penitentiary.
My day starts at 7.30am with breakfast with the other inmate, the aforementioned warden, who is also the cook, exercise instructor, guidance counsellor, cleaning supervisor and mandatory hot secretary in the administrative department.
I quite enjoy breakfast. Before I came in here I'd just grab a piece of toast and head out the door. It's quite nice to be able to sit down and have a chat with your cell/bunk mate before the day starts. We think we might try and carry that on in the outside world.
An empty Whangārei Hatea Loop walkway during lockdown. Photo / Michael Cunningham
After breakfast we hit the showers. Ot rather I hit the shower. Alone. In spite of repeated "nudge, nudge; wink, wink" suggestions the warden has a strict no fraternisation with the inmates policy.
I have appealed for a relaxation of that rule and am awaiting a decision. Fingers crossed. Anyway, showered and changed into prison issue threads I rock up to the administrative desk where the hot secretary on duty - who bears a remarkable resemblance to the warden - gives me my daily tasks: Painting the back wall of the house; weeding the bit of garden I missed last week; tidying the garage.
As I head out to work she mentions I have lost a lot of weight and my attire is hanging somewhat loose on my, ahem, manly and impressive frame.
We decide it's probably got something to do with the fact my diet over the past three weeks has been devoid of anything but sensible and nutritious foods, no picking between meals and definitely no daily sweet and chocolatey mochaccino from the coffee shop down the road.
Again, we decide we will try and stick to that in the outside world. That will be a tough one I assure you.
Anyway, it turns out there's something in the regulations about having clothes that fit so the hot secretary from the administrative department decides to organise a purchasing trip to get me some new threads as soon as all this is over.
And just to make sure I get the right gear she'll accompany me. And what the heck, she may as well pick up some new clothes herself too.
Anyway.
The day flies by and following lunch - a banana smoothie which is rapidly earning consideration for a place in my new world - we walk the prison dog.
The daily workout is supplemented by a never-ending series of Sidewalk Sidesteps as we endeavour to keep to social distancing etiquette and stay two metres away from anyone we see.
Initially I thought this was going to lead to a lot of hamstring injuries but now we are getting used to it. We'll probably try and keep doing it on the outside too. Likewise we'll say hello to each and every person we see.
Back in the secure facility later we have dinner before some telly time then its lights out around 10.30pm. Another one for life on the outside.
Each night my cellmate thanks me for my efforts with a good night snog and tells me if I was in a real prison I probably would have earned $1 for my work efforts today.
Besides thinking if I was in a real prison I probably wouldn't want a good night snog from my cellmate, I go to sleep tired from the day's labours but content in the knowledge my three weeks locked up so far would have earned me enough for four sweet and chocolatey mochaccinos from my favourite coffee shop down the road.
Hopefully we'll all get out soon and I can go get one. But I'm not too worried if this lockdown gets extended.
I've started a tunnel.
• Kevin Page is a teller of tall tales with a firm belief too much serious news gives you frown lines. Feel free to share stories to kevin.page@nzme.co.nz .
