Purgatory

DAY 37 – FRIDAY 24 AUGUST 2001

6.08 am

I draw my newly acquired curtains to allow the rising sun to enter my cell. I discovered during exercise yesterday evening that they used to belong to Dennis (VAT fraud). No one knows how much of the 17.5 per cent he retained for himself, but as he was sentenced to six years, we have to assume it was several millions.

Dennis applied for parole after two and a half years, having been a model prisoner. He heard nothing, so assumed that his request had been turned down. Yesterday, at 8 am, they opened his cell door and told him to pack his belongings. He was being released within the hour. The order had come from the Home Office the week before but, as his probation officer was on leave, no message had got through. Dennis had to borrow a phonecard – against prison regulations – to ask his wife to come and pick him up. He caught her just as she was leaving for work, otherwise he would have been standing outside the gates all day. That is how I inherited the fine net curtains which now adorn my cell, and when I leave they will be passed on to the new resident. I just hope I’m given a little more notice.

Jimmy was also let out yesterday, but only for the day. He has just a few weeks left to serve before his release date, so they allow him out once a month on a town visit, from 9 am to 3 pm. This is part of the rehabilitation programme for any D-cat prisoner. Jimmy has been a D-cat, but resident in a C-cat prison, for over three months. He doesn’t want to move to an open prison because he’s coming to the end of his sentence and his family lives locally.

Yesterday Jimmy visited Dereham. He was accompanied by an officer who, for reasons that will become clear, I shall not name. At lunchtime the officer gave Jimmy a fiver to buy them both some fish and chips (Dereham prices) while he went to the bank to cash a cheque. Jimmy collected the fish and chips, strolled over to the National Westminster and waited outside for the officer. When he didn’t appear, Jimmy began lunch without him. After the last chip had been devoured, Jimmy began to worry about what had happened to his guard. He went into the bank, but couldn’t see him, so ran out and quickly headed towards Lloyds TSB, a hundred yards away. As he turned the corner, he saw the officer running down the street towards him, an anxious look on his face. The two men fell into each other’s arms laughing; Jimmy didn’t want to be accused of trying to escape only six weeks before his release date, and the officer would have been sacked for giving a prisoner money to assist in that escape. Jimmy told me later that he’s never seen a more relieved man in his life.

‘Where are my fish and chips?’ demanded the officer, once he had recovered.

‘I had to eat them, guv,’ Jimmy explained, ‘otherwise yours would have gone cold.’ He handed over fifty pence change.

8.00 am

After breakfast I go in search of Stan (embezzler, PS21,000, eighteen months), the spur painter. I ask him if he’d be kind enough to come and look at my cell and see if he can recommend any way of brightening it up. I tell him I hate the white door and the black square around the basin and the black floor skirting.

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he says, ‘but I can’t promise much. We only get colours that have been discontinued, or the ones no one else wants.’

9.00 am

Pottery. I fear this enterprise has proved to be a mistake. I simply don’t have any talent with clay. I’m going to ask Wendy if I can be transferred to the library or education. The Sun told its readers yesterday that I had applied to take Dennis’s (of curtain fame) job in the library. I didn’t even know he worked in the library, but now the Sun has put the idea in my head, I’ll ask Steve (conspiring to murder, head librarian) if there’s a vacancy. Meanwhile I go off to pottery and waste two hours talking to Shaun (forgery). To be fair, it wasn’t a complete waste of time because he brought me up to date on his progress with the book cover and the montage of prisoners (see plate section). I also discover more about his crime.

What I hadn’t appreciated was that the forged John Lewis gift vouchers were not used simply to purchase articles from the store. Oh, no, Shaun is far brighter than that. He discovered that if you buy an item and present your gift voucher, the assistant will hand back the change in cash. Shaun also found out that if you purchase something for PS1,000 (and he saw Chris Eubank buying a television with genuine vouchers) and return the item an hour later, they don’t reimburse you with vouchers. Once again, they hand over cash.

Armed with this information, Shaun acquired a map of England (kindly supplied by a helpful assistant) showing every John Lewis outlet in the country. He then began to travel the land, cashing vouchers in each town he passed through. He was finally caught when his co-conspirator panicked, went to the police and grassed on him (Shaun’s words).

I wonder what Shaun will turn his mind to once he’s released. I only mention this because when the conversation changed to the clash between Ken Clarke and Iain Duncan Smith, Shaun added a piece of knowledge to the euro debate which neither of the candidates seems to have grasped.

‘Have you ever seen a euro note?’ Shaun asked.

‘No, I haven’t,’ I admitted.

It’s Monopoly money and will be quite easy to reproduce. From 1 January it will be legal tender in seventeen countries across Europe, and I’ll bet most of the shops don’t have any way of identifying a fake. Someone’s going to make a fortune.’

I recall that Shaun has only three more weeks of his sentence to serve.

11.15 am

I return to my cell and find I have a beige door, a neat blue square around my basin and cream skirting. I go in search of Stan, and present him with a phonecard – value: PS2; worth: inestimable.

11.30 am

I call Paula (Alison is on holiday) and discover to my great relief that the last ten days’ text of this script have arrived. It doesn’t bear thinking about having to rewrite those 30,000 words. You may well ask why I didn’t make a copy. Because there isn’t a copier available. Then why don’t I hand the papers over to my wife after a visit? Because it’s against the regulations. My only chance is to rely on the Post Office, and it hasn’t let me down yet.

12 noon

Lunch. I mournfully watch the test match while eating my vegetable soup. Australia are piling on the runs at a rate of four an over.

3.00 pm

Exercise. Jimmy is chatting about his girlfriends, and don’t forget this is a man who had three women come to see him at his last visit. At some time, he tells me, he’s slept with all three of them – not at the same time, he’s not kinky, just healthy – and what’s more they didn’t leave scratching each other’s eyes out. Nevertheless, this brings me on to a taboo subject I haven’t yet mentioned: sex or the lack of it – unless you are a homosexual. Darren reminds us that in Sweden and Holland they allow conjugal visits, which I can’t see happening in this country for many years. The current solution is to put a notice on the message board (see opposite) and hope the problem will go away. It will be interesting to see which comes first: the legalization of cannabis or conjugal visits.

OFFENSIVE AND OBSCENE MATERIAL STATEMENT OF POLICY

1. At HMP Wayland we feel that it is important that we provide an environment within which visitors, staff and prisoners are able to work and visit without being caused offence by the display of any material.

2. Our aim is to ensure that the dignity of all staff, visitors and prisoners is respected. It is the duty of all staff to help to ensure that our environment remains free from the display of potentially offensive material.

3. Therefore the public display of any material that is potentially offensive will not be permitted in any part of the Prison.

TYPES OF MATERIAL THAT WILL BE RESTRICTED:

4. Any sexually explicit material, eg magazines of a pornographic nature which are available from newsagents, will be allowed in possession but must not be on display.

5. ‘Page 3’ type pictures can be placed on prisoners’ noticeboards, but pictures showing full nudity cannot. Photographs, artwork and other material may be displayed on noticeboards providing it conforms to the criteria outlined above.

6. All managers have a duty to ensure that their areas remain free from the display of any potentially offensive material. This applies to all areas, including offices, rest rooms and other ‘staff only’ areas.

After two weeks of walking round the perimeter of Wayland prison, I can now spot evil, fear, helplessness and sadness at thirty paces. But even I am puzzled by a crouching man who always sits alone in the same place every day, huddled up against the fence. He can’t be much more than thirty, perhaps thirty-five, and he rarely moves from his solitary position. I ask Darren about him.

Tragic,’ he says. ‘Alistair is one of your lot – public school, followed by university, where he graduated as a heroin addict. If he doesn’t kick the habit, he’ll be in prison for the rest of his life.’

‘How can that be possible?’ I ask.

‘Simple. He regularly gets caught injecting himself, and always ends up with a few more months being added to his sentence. In fact, even on the day he was sent down, he was found with a needle in his arm. Somehow, and it must have been before the judge passed sentence or soon after he was taken down, he managed to stuff a needle covered in cellophane, a plunger and ten grams of heroin wrapped in a condom up his backside. He then took a laxative so that he could empty his bowels as soon as he arrived at Belmarsh, Once they’d banged him up that evening – and don’t forget there’s a lavatory in every cell – he injected himself with heroin and passed out. At the nine o’clock flap check the night officer found him lying on the floor with a needle stuck in his arm and several grams of heroin sprinkled on the floor beside him. He must be one of the few prisoners who has managed to have time added to his sentence before breakfast the following morning.’

I look at the tragic, hunched-up figure and wonder if prison is the right answer.

6.00 pm

Supper. I can’t remember what I eat, but I do recall finding two extra cartons of milk on my window sill. Sergio is exercising his authority as the new No. 1 on the hotplate.