It was November 2025. I had zero dollars in my jail account. Mum sent me some Christmas dollars. I’d just started working and was earning $47.00 per week, plus $9.95 hygiene allowance.

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Buy-up in secure just went to $60.00 per fortnight, instead of $80.00 per week. All secure units were furious. Blue letters were written. Personal hygiene was the argument.

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The list goes on. Meanwhile, I thought, sweet as: I took the opportunity to save my money, ultimately to pay my mum back. Now I know to see if minimum wage could sustain a single parent upon release, besides 30% of my wages for rent and $60 per week for food. I saved $300 over six months. It’s my mum’s birthday the day after I get out. I bought her magazines and a card, etc, to pay the debt back. It’s important to me not to be in debt to anybody. It’s Christmas and we decide to create something that is tradition: green vanilla cake, Old Gold dark chocolate, apples, Biscoff and cream. Glorious CREAM. So I cook up the apples in two trays and leave them to sweat in plastic bags, mix up the cake mix with chocolate, cream and Biscoff, pour it over the apples, seven mins in the microwave. Make the frosting the same as the cake mix, add milk and butter, tender. I’m divine. Russian Fudge. Melt-in-the-mouth decadence. I will never forget the taste on my tongue. Thank you.