Heaven

DAY 148 THURSDAY 13 DECEMBER 2001

6.00 am

Orderlies are the prison’s school prefects. They’re given their jobs because they can be trusted. In return, they’re expected to work for these privileges, such as eating together in a small group, and in my case having a single room with a television.

There are over a dozen orderlies in all. Yesterday both reception orderlies were sacked, leaving two much sought-after vacancies.

Martin, the senior of the two reception orderlies, was due to be discharged this morning, two months early, on tag (HCD). The only restriction was that he must remain in his place of residence between the hours of 7 pm and 7 am. Martin had already completed the ‘paper chase’, which had to be carried out the day before release. Unfortunately, before departing this morning he decided to take with him a brand-new prison-issue denim top and jeans, and several shirts. A blue and white striped prison shirt apparently sells at around a hundred pounds on the outside, especially if it has the letters NSC on the pocket.

When the theft was discovered, he was immediately sacked and, more sadly, so was the other orderly, Barry, whose only crime was that he wouldn’t grass on Martin. It’s rough justice when the only way to keep your job is to grass on your mate when you know what the consequences will be for that person – not to mention how the other inmates will treat you in the future. We will find out the punishment tomorrow when both men will be up in front of the governor.

2.00 pm

I am disappointed to receive a letter from William Payne, the governor of Spring Hill, turning down my application for transfer. His reasons for rejecting me are shown in his letter reproduced here. (See opposite.) I feel I should point out that the last five inmates from NSC who have applied to Spring Hill have all been accepted. It’s not worth appealing, because I’ve long given up expecting any justice whenever the Home Office is involved.

3.00 pm

Six new inductees: four on short sentences ranging from three weeks to nine months, and two lifers who, for the past sixteen years, have been banged up for twenty-two hours a day. They are walking around the perimeters of the prison (no walls) in a daze, and can’t understand why they’re not being ordered back to their cells. Linda tells me that lifers often report at the end of the first week with foot-sores and colds, and take far longer to adapt to open conditions.

One of the short-termers from Nottingham who’s been placed in the no-smoking spur on the south block that has mostly more mature CSV workers who only return to the prison at night – tells me with a wry smile that he couldn’t sleep last night because it was so quiet.

6.00 pm

A visit from Mr Hocking. I’m no longer to dispose of personal papers, letters, envelopes or notes in the dustbin outside the hospital, as a prisoner was caught rifling through the contents last night. In future I must hand them to a security officer, who will shred them. NSC does not want to repeat the Belmarsh debacle, where an officer stole a chapter of my book and tried to sell it to the Sun.

8.00 pm

I sit in my palace and hold court with Doug, Clive and Carl, or at least that’s how it feels after Belmarsh and Wayland.

In London, Mary is hosting our Christmas party.