I went to prison again on the weekend. And it occurred to me that my version of “normal” has vastly expanded. A sausage sizzle was being set up inside the prison entrance, like it was Bunnings. Bottle-green clad, heavily tattooed male prisoners walked past, carrying tables and slabs of soft drinks to the sausage sizzle stand. Outside the visiting block, familiar faces smiled at me and said hello. Parents, cousins and children of different inmates were greeting each other, hugging and catching up. People offered pens to newbies so they could fill out their admittance forms and advice to fellow visitors as they ran the gamut of the metal detectors: “Are you wearing a belt?”, “Try taking your shoes off!”, “Ah, the same thing happened to me last week” they shouted cheerily to the bloke who tried seven times to make it through the sliding glass doors of the scanners. When I finally got inside, I called out to my friend: “Coke?” and she gave me the thumbs up. I fed coins into the junk food machines for cans of fizzy, Mars Bar Pods and Kettle Chips. As I walked past Kelli Lane’s mum and daughter, they gasped in mock outrage at my booty. We all laughed as Kathy explained the machine had stolen their money and not provided their chippies. I sat on a bolted-down metal stool and chatted to my friend, who’s been jailed for 26 years for the murder of her four children. She told me about getting eggplant seedlings for her veggie patch because she’s only allowed to grow things that can’t be turned into alcohol (eggplant liqueur anyone?) and I rolled my eyes at the pointlessness – there won’t be any way to cook them as she only has access to sarnie presses and rice cookers. When visiting hours drew to a close, I watched kids wave goodbye to their mummies, blowing kisses and shouting “I love you” through the glass as their parents lined up to have the electrical cable ties cut off the zips of their white overalls so they could strip, get patted down for contraband and change back into their prison garb.
And I marvelled at how normal such completely abnormal things had become.
housegoeshome 
It’s another world, but obviously the more it is part of your life the more it all seems normal. You adapt, you learn the routines, you figure out a way to manage because you have to (I’m talking about the families/visitors).
Strange but true.
Was trying to work out why Kelli Lane’s mum and daughter were gasping at your booty as you walked by, then realised you meant the junk food. Thought it might have been the Kmart jeans.
Ah-ha-ha-ha-hah you are a card! The jeans are fabulous. Stop knocking them.
Kathy could always grill the eggplant in the sandwich press. Yum! Amazing what you can cook on those things. Bacon and eggs for example. Slow, but effective.
Oooh, I didn’t think of that. Of course she could!