inside this
little tent, they place a dish with red-hot stones on it. They then take some
hemp seed, enter the tent and throw the seed onto the hot stones. It
immediately begins to smoke, giving off a vapour unsurpassed by any vapour bath
one could find in Greece. The Scythians enjoy the experience so much that they
howl with pleasure.
3.40 pm
Mr New and Mr
Simpson interview me for my sentence plan. All the boxes are filled in with ‘No
History’ (N/H) for drugs, violence, past offences, drink or mental disorder. In
the remaining boxes, the words ‘Low Risk’ are entered for abscond, reoffend and
bullying. The final box has to be filled in by my personnel officer. Mr New is
kind enough to commend my efforts at SMU and my relationship with other
prisoners.
The document is
then signed by both officers and faxed to Spring Hill at 4.07 pm, and is
acknowledged as received at 4.09 pm.
Watch this
space.
DAY 118 - TUESDAY 13 NOVEMBER 2001
5.51 am
Write for two
hours.
8.30 am
There are no
new inductees today and therefore no labour board. Mr New will not be on duty
until one o’clock, so Matthew and I have a quiet morning. He gives me a lecture
on Alexander the Great.
12 noon
I phone Chris
Beetles at his gallery. His annual Illustrators’
Catalogue has arrived in the morning post. There is the usual selection of
goodies: Vickie, Low, Brabazon, Scarfe, Shepard, Giles and Heath Robinson.
However, it’s a
new artist who attracts my attention.
The first
edition of The Wind in the Willows was
illustrated by E. H. Shepard, and after his death for
a short time by Heath Robinson. But a new version has recently been published,
illustrated with the most delightful watercolours by Michael Foreman, who is
one of Britain’s most respected illustrators. Original Shepards are now
changing hands for as much as £100,000 and Heath Robinsons can fetch £10,000.
So it was a pleasant surprise to find that Mr Foreman’s works were around £500.
I decide to select one or two for any future grandchildren.
So in
anticipation I turn the pages and begin to choose a dozen or so for Mary to
consider. I have to smile when I come to page 111: a picture of Toad in jail,
being visited by the washerwoman. This is not only a must for a future
grandchild, but should surely be this year’s Christmas card. (See below.)
4.00 pm
An inmate
called Fox asks me if it’s true that I have a laptop in my room. I explain
politely to him that I write all my manuscripts by hand, and have no idea how
to use a computer. He looks surprised. I later learn from my old room-mate
Eamon that there’s a rumour going round that I have my own laptop and a mobile
phone. Envy in prison is every bit as rife as it is ‘on the out’.
5.00 pm
I receive a
visit from David (fraud, eighteen months). He has received a long and
fascinating letter from his former pad-mate Alan, who was transferred to Spring
Hill a week ago. Alan confirms that his new abode is far more pleasant than
NSC, and advises me to join him as quickly as possible. He doesn’t seem to
realize that the decision won’t rest with me. However, there is one revealing
sentence: ‘ An officer reported that they’ve been
expecting Jeffrey for the past week, has he decided not to come?’ David feels
that they must have agreed to take me, and are only waiting for my sentence
plan, which was faxed to them yesterday.
Incidentally,
David (the recipient of the letter) was a schoolmaster in Sleaford before he
arrived at NSC via Belmarsh. Three of his former pupils are also residents;
well, to be totally accurate, two – one has just absconded.
7.00 pm
Doug and I
watch the tanks as they roll into Kabul while Bush and Blair try not to look
triumphant.
10.30 pm
I’m back in my
room, undressing, when a flash bulb goes off.8 I quickly open my door
and see an inmate running down the corridor. I chase after him, but he
disappears out of the back door and into the night.
I return to my
room, and a few moments later, an
little tent, they place a dish with red-hot stones on it. They then take some
hemp seed, enter the tent and throw the seed onto the hot stones. It
immediately begins to smoke, giving off a vapour unsurpassed by any vapour bath
one could find in Greece. The Scythians enjoy the experience so much that they
howl with pleasure.
3.40 pm
Mr New and Mr
Simpson interview me for my sentence plan. All the boxes are filled in with ‘No
History’ (N/H) for drugs, violence, past offences, drink or mental disorder. In
the remaining boxes, the words ‘Low Risk’ are entered for abscond, reoffend and
bullying. The final box has to be filled in by my personnel officer. Mr New is
kind enough to commend my efforts at SMU and my relationship with other
prisoners.
The document is
then signed by both officers and faxed to Spring Hill at 4.07 pm, and is
acknowledged as received at 4.09 pm.
Watch this
space.
DAY 118 - TUESDAY 13 NOVEMBER 2001
5.51 am
Write for two
hours.
8.30 am
There are no
new inductees today and therefore no labour board. Mr New will not be on duty
until one o’clock, so Matthew and I have a quiet morning. He gives me a lecture
on Alexander the Great.
12 noon
I phone Chris
Beetles at his gallery. His annual Illustrators’
Catalogue has arrived in the morning post. There is the usual selection of
goodies: Vickie, Low, Brabazon, Scarfe, Shepard, Giles and Heath Robinson.
However, it’s a
new artist who attracts my attention.
The first
edition of The Wind in the Willows was
illustrated by E. H. Shepard, and after his death for
a short time by Heath Robinson. But a new version has recently been published,
illustrated with the most delightful watercolours by Michael Foreman, who is
one of Britain’s most respected illustrators. Original Shepards are now
changing hands for as much as £100,000 and Heath Robinsons can fetch £10,000.
So it was a pleasant surprise to find that Mr Foreman’s works were around £500.
I decide to select one or two for any future grandchildren.
So in
anticipation I turn the pages and begin to choose a dozen or so for Mary to
consider. I have to smile when I come to page 111: a picture of Toad in jail,
being visited by the washerwoman. This is not only a must for a future
grandchild, but should surely be this year’s Christmas card. (See below.)
4.00 pm
An inmate
called Fox asks me if it’s true that I have a laptop in my room. I explain
politely to him that I write all my manuscripts by hand, and have no idea how
to use a computer. He looks surprised. I later learn from my old room-mate
Eamon that there’s a rumour going round that I have my own laptop and a mobile
phone. Envy in prison is every bit as rife as it is ‘on the out’.
5.00 pm
I receive a
visit from David (fraud, eighteen months). He has received a long and
fascinating letter from his former pad-mate Alan, who was transferred to Spring
Hill a week ago. Alan confirms that his new abode is far more pleasant than
NSC, and advises me to join him as quickly as possible. He doesn’t seem to
realize that the decision won’t rest with me. However, there is one revealing
sentence: ‘ An officer reported that they’ve been
expecting Jeffrey for the past week, has he decided not to come?’ David feels
that they must have agreed to take me, and are only waiting for my sentence
plan, which was faxed to them yesterday.
Incidentally,
David (the recipient of the letter) was a schoolmaster in Sleaford before he
arrived at NSC via Belmarsh. Three of his former pupils are also residents;
well, to be totally accurate, two – one has just absconded.
7.00 pm
Doug and I
watch the tanks as they roll into Kabul while Bush and Blair try not to look
triumphant.
10.30 pm
I’m back in my
room, undressing, when a flash bulb goes off.8 I quickly open my door
and see an inmate running down the corridor. I chase after him, but he
disappears out of the back door and into the night.
I return to my
room, and a few moments later, an
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