Heaven

DAY 113 THURSDAY 8 NOVEMBER 2001

8.15 am

Breakfast. Wendy, the officer in charge of the kitchen, needs three new workers from this morning’s labour board.

‘But only yesterday you told me that you were overstaffed.’

‘True,’ she replies, hands on hips, ‘but that was yesterday, and I had to sack three of the blighters this morning.’

‘Why?’ I ask hopefully.

‘I knew you’d ask,’ she replies, ‘and only because you’re bound to find out sooner or later, I’ll tell you. I set three of them plucking chickens yesterday morning, and last night two of the birds went missing. I don’t know who stole them, but in my kitchen I dispense summary justice, so all three were sacked.’

9.30 am

Eight new prisoners arrive for induction today, including my room-mate Eamon. It seems that he worked in the kitchen at his last prison, but ‘on the out’ is a builder by trade. He’s due for release in January, and wants to work outside during the winter months to toughen himself up. Sounds logical to me, so I recommend that he opts for the farm.

10.00 am

Eamon gets his preferred job. I also find three new kitchen workers for Wendy, and the labour board is drinking coffee by 10.39 am. I need a new challenge.

12 noon

Lunch. I sit next to the new visits orderly, who tells me that ‘on the out’ he was a hairdresser in Leicester. He charged £27.50, but while he’s in prison, he’ll happily cut my hair once a month for a phonecard. Another problem solved.

2.30 pm

A fax has just been received from Spring Hill, requesting my latest sentence plan, which cannot be updated until I’ve served twenty-eight days at NSC. Sentence plans make up a part of every prisoner’s record, and are an important element when it comes to consideration for parole. Sentence planning boards are held almost every afternoon and conducted by Mr New and Mr Simpson. I am due before the board on 20 November. Mr New immediately brings it forward a week to 12 November – next Monday, which would be my twenty-ninth day at NSC, and promises to fax the result through to Spring Hill that afternoon. I’ll be interested to see what excuse they’ll come up with next.

3.30 pm

Mr Berlyn (deputy governor) drops in to grumble about the prison being full for the first time in years and say that I’m to blame.

‘How come?’ I ask.

‘Because,’ he explains, ‘the News of the World described NSC as the cushiest jail in Britain, so now every prisoner who qualifies for a D-cat wants to be sent here. It’s one of the reasons I hope they take you at Spring Hill,’ he continues, ‘then we can pass that dubious accolade on to them. By the way,’ he adds, ‘don’t get your hopes up about an early move, because someone up above [prison slang for the Home Office] is out to stop you.’

4.00 pm

John (lifer, murder) arrives in SMU, accompanied by a very attractive lady whom he introduces as his partner. This has me puzzled. If John murdered his wife, and has been in prison for the past fourteen years, how can he have a partner?

5.00 pm

I return to my room and write for two hours, relieved that Eamon doesn’t make an appearance. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s with his friends from Derby, or is excessively considerate. This morning he told me he didn’t mind my switching the light on at six o’clock.

‘I’m in the building trade,’ he explained, ‘so I’m used to getting up at four-thirty.’

I feel I should add that he doesn’t smoke, doesn’t swear and is always well mannered. I still haven’t found out why he’s in prison.

7.15 pm

I find Doug and Clive at the hospital, heads down, poring over the new resettlement directive in preparation for tomorrow’s facility meeting. Doug is determined to be the first prisoner out of the blocks, and if that should happen, then I might become the hospital orderly overnight. For the first time I look at the hospital in a different light, thinking about what changes I would make.