Food For Free: The Glasgow Diary

9.00: Awake to an empty fridge and immediately I regret accepting this assignment.

12.30: Armed only with a packet of sunflower seeds and an emergency five pound note I set out. Hungry, but full of enthusiasm and confident that I’ll be feasting on deli samples for lunch.

13.00: Have eaten all of my sunflower seeds. My original plan of feasting on tasty gourmet samples appears to be inherently flawed. Go to a cheesemonger and after much pointing and asking (and a white lie about a dinner party cheese board) the chap shaves off a sliver of cheese that a mouse would scoff at. Other delis prove equally fruitless. Am gripped by fear and hunger pangs as I realise what I’ve let myself in for.

13:30: Go in to a fruit and vegetable shop and ask if they have anything that is being thrown out that they could spare ‘for my rabbit’. "I’m not supposed to do this," the guy worries. Emboldened by hunger, I bat my lashes and promise silkily: "I won’t tell anyone".

13.33: Success! Fruit boy reappears with broccoli, carrots, apples and pears; all of which have seen better days but all of which are definitely edible. Jump in to a nearby pub for a pint (of water) and wash the apples and pears in the toilets to get the floor off them. Delicious!

13.37: Hungry again. Woman can not live on fruit and sunflower seeds alone.

14.30: Have tried the rabbit trick on every fruit and vegetable shop in the West End and the haul is impressive - enough for soup. Although it proves impossible to source an onion - I later find out this is a common freegan problem.

17.00: I’ve tried several butchers in a vain attempt to get a bone ‘for the dog’ to make stock for my free soup (froup, if you will). Unfortunately, no amount of eyelash batting seems to make a difference. Every butcher I ask informs me that I have just missed the ‘bone collector’. However, one kindly butcher, taking pity on me, tells me he’ll keep me one next time. However, I am fearful about the repercussions of crossing someone called a ‘bone collector’.

20.30: Having decided that I‘m going to go all out in the name of research I try various supermarket bins. So disappointed when I find that all are locked or empty, in one the food has been deliberately spoiled. Other bin are within locked cages and protected by CCTV. Disheartened, and increasingly paranoid that I’m being watched, I decide to use my emergency fiver on a celebration pint. Revolutions are thirsty work.