Heaven

DAY 125 TUESDAY 20 NOVEMBER 2001

Many aspects of prison life are unbearable: boredom, confinement, missing family and friends. All of these might fade in time. But the two things I will never forget after I’m released will be the noise and the bad language.

When I returned to my room at 10 pm last night, the TV room next door was packed with screaming hooligans; the volume, for a the repeat of the world heavyweight title fight between Lennox Lewis and Hasim Rahman, was so high that it reminded me of being back at Belmarsh when reggae music was blaring out from the adjacent cell. I was delighted to learn that Lennox Lewis had retained his title, but didn’t need to hear every word the commentator said, or the accompanying cheers, screams and insults from a highly partisan crowd. In the end I gave up, went next door and asked if the volume could be turned down a little. I was greeted with a universal chorus of ‘Fuck off!’

10.00 am

Sixteen new inductees turn up for labour board, all clutching their red folders. The message has spread: if you don’t return your folders, you don’t get a job, and therefore no wages. Because the prison is so full at the moment, most of the good jobs – hospital, SMU, library, education, stores, officers’ mess – are filled, leaving only kitchen, cleaners and the dreaded farm. Among the new intake is a PhD and an army officer. I fix it so that the PhD, who only has another five weeks to serve, will work in the stores, and the army officer will then take over from him. Only one of the new intake hasn’t a clue what he wants to do, so he inevitably ends up on the farm.

11.00 am

I have already described the paper chase to you, so imagine my surprise when among the three prisoners to turn up this morning, clutching his release papers is Potts. Do you remember Potts? Solicitor didn’t turn up, took an overdose? Well, he’s fully recovered and went back to court for his appeal. However, he was half an hour late and the judge refused to hear his case, despite the fact that it was the Prison Service’s fault that he wasn’t on time. Here we are two weeks later and he’s off tomorrow, even though he wasn’t due for release until the middle of next year. As we are unable to have a lengthy conversation at SMU, I agree to visit him tonight and find out what caused this sudden reversal.

3.00 pm

The governor of Spring Hill (Mr Payne) calls to have a private chat with Mr New. He’s concerned about the attendant publicity should he agree to my transfer. Mr New does everything he can to allay Mr Payne’s anxieties, pointing out that once the tabloids had got their photograph, the press haven’t been seen since. But Mr Payne points out that it didn’t stop a series of stories appearing from ‘insiders’ and ‘released prisoners’ which, although pure fantasy doesn’t help. Mr New tells him that I have settled in well, shared a room with another inmate and am a model prisoner. Mr Payne says he’ll make a decision fairly quickly. I am not optimistic.

6.30 pm

I have been invited to attend a meeting of the Samaritans (from Boston) and the Listeners (prisoners). They meet about once a month in the hospital to exchange views and ideas. They only need me to sign some books for their Christmas bazaar. One of the ladies asks me if she can bring in some more books for signing from the Red Cross bookshop.

‘Of course,’ I tell her.

10.30 pm

There’s a cowboy film on TV, so the noise is bearable – that is, until the final shoot-out begins.