I’m in the supermarket – the high ceiling and distant walls of the building sealing in a world of light and warmth and jingles. I’m wandering amongst bright sugar-coated refined flour fat-filled cakes, tropical fruits beamed up from goodness knows where, along aisles of plastic filled with liquids, powders, creams in colours straight from the lab.
I’m hunting, gathering foodstuffs that naturally occur here on this spot of native Scotland, our wild Midlothian, the very footprint of the supermarket. Raspberries, brambles, blaeberries… mint, watercress, thyme, marjoram… honey, mushrooms, hazelnuts, venison.
I’m wandering through the local woodland: oaks, ashes, hazels, birch and alder. I hear the buzzard call overhead. Stock doves and squirrels (red) drop from branches. Seeds and leaves fall into my dilly bag. I reach up and extract a…