Purgatory

DAY 70 – WEDNESDAY 26 SEPTEMBER 2001

9.00 am

Pottery. It’s Anne’s birthday. She’s amused by my flowerpot (we’ve all agreed now that it is to be thought of as a flowerpot) and says that it must be left to dry for two weeks before it can be placed in the kiln.

Another of the tutors has brought in a box of crayons for Shaun. When I leave the art room an hour later, I place the crayons in a plastic bag which, to my surprise, the officers don’t bother to look inside. I then walk out onto the exercise yard and, in front of several other officers, stroll across to the window of Shaun’s cell on C block and pass the crayons through the bars, dropping them on his bed. Only yesterday we were all searched for a knife. Today… prison logic. I admit I’m only smuggling crayons, but you would have thought someone might have just checked.

2.00 pm

No gym because it’s rugby practice. Mr Harley has selected a team of possibles v probables for the first match next week, which he asks me to referee.

The standard turns out to be far higher than I had expected. An Afro-Caribbean inmate picks up a ball that is passed to his toes at full speed and carves his way through a bunch of thugs and murderers to score a brilliant try under the posts. It augers well for next week.

When we return to the changing room the young man tells me that he’s never played the game before. How much talent is there in this country that we just don’t find out about, let alone nurture?

Another prisoner standing next to me in the shower is six foot nine, and was one of the second row forwards (surprise, surprise). He’s more interested in talking about my trial, which he describes as a diabolical liberty. As I never discuss my case with other inmates, I only listen.

‘I also got four years,’ he said, ‘for burglary – with five hundred and two, yeah, five hundred and two,’ he repeats, ‘other offences to be taken into consideration.’