Heaven

DAY 108 SATURDAY 3 NOVEMBER 2001

I’ve written several times about the boredom of weekends, but something takes place today that turns the normal torpor into frantic activity.

8.50 am

The photographers have returned. They either missed getting a good shot yesterday, or work for the Sundays who want a ‘today pic’. I agree with the deputy governor, Mr Berlyn, to do another walk on, walk off, in order to get rid of them once and for all. He seems grateful.

2.00 pm

I’m expecting a visit from my son James. When I enter the visitors’ room I can’t see him, but then spot someone waving at me. It turns out to be my son. He’s grown a beard. I hate it, and tell him so, which is a bit rough, as he’s just travelled 120 miles to see me.

James tells me that my legal team are concentrating their efforts on my appeal. Mr and Mrs Barker have confirmed that they heard the judge discussing me at a dinner party over a year before I was arrested. This could change my appeal.

5.00 pm

Doug and I are having tea in the hospital when Clive strolls in to announce that he’s moving to another room…

‘Why?’ I ask, when he has the largest space in the prison.

‘Because they’re fitting electrics into all the other rooms.’ I can’t believe he’d give up his large abode in exchange for a TV. ‘If you want to move in, Jeffrey, you’d better come over to the south block now.’ We all go off in search of the duty officer, who approves the move. I spend the next two hours, assisted by Alan (selling stolen goods), transferring all my possessions from the north block to the south, while Clive moves into a little single room at the other end of the corridor.

I am now lodged in a room twenty-one by sixteen feet. Most prisoners assume I’ve paid Clive some vast sum of money to move out and make way for me, whereas the truth is that Clive wanted out. There is only one disadvantage. There always has to be a disadvantage. My new abode is next to the TV room, but as that’s turned off at eleven each night, and I rarely leave Doug in the hospital before 10.30 pm, I don’t think it will be a real problem.

I now have an interesting job, a better room, edible food and £8.50 a week. What more could a man ask for?