Bill reluctantly goes into the hospital, lies on one
of the beds and looks hopefully in the direction of the television screen. ‘Not
a chance,’ Linda tells him.
Once Linda has
sorted out the genuinely ill from the trying-it-on brigade, I’m handed four
lists of those she has sanctioned to be off work for the day. I deliver a copy
to the south block unit office, the farm office, the north block, the gatehouse
amd education before going to breakfast.
8.30 am
It’s Matthew’s
last day at NSC and he’s on the paper chase. He takes a double-sided printed
form from department to department, the hospital, gym, canteen, stores and
reception, to gather signatures authorizing his release tomorrow. He starts
with Mr Simpson, the probation officer at SMU, and will end with the principal
officer Mr New.
He will then
have to hand in this sheet of paper at reception tomorrow morning before he can
finally be released. It’s not unknown for a prisoner’s release paper to
disappear overnight, which can hold up an inmate’s departure for several hours.
I’ll miss
Matthew, who, at the age of twenty-four, will be returning to university to
complete his PhD. He’s taught me a great deal during the past five weeks. I’ve
met over a thousand prisoners since I’ve been in jail, and he is one of a
handful who I believe should never have been sent to prison. I wish him luck in
the future; he’s a fine young man.
12 noon
I drop into the
hospital to see if sister needs me.
‘Not at the
moment,’ says Linda, ‘but as we’re expecting seventeen new arrivals this
afternoon, please come back around four, or when you see the sweat box driving
through the front gate.’
‘How’s Bill?’ I
enquire.
‘He lasted about
forty minutes,’ she replies dryly, ‘but sadly failed to produce a specimen. I
sent him back to the farm, but of course told him to return immediately should
the problem arise again.’
2.00 pm
On returning to
SMU I find a prisoner sitting in the waiting room, visibly shaking. His name is
Moore. He tells me that he’s been called off work for a meeting with two police
officers who are travelling down from Derbyshire to interview him. He’s
completed seventeen months of a five-year sentence, and is anxious to know why
they want to see him.
2.30 pm
The police
haven’t turned up. I go to check on Moore – to find he’s a gibbering wreck.
2.53 pm
The two
Derbyshire police officers arrive.
They greet me
with a smile and don’t look at all ferocious. I take them up to an interview
room on the first floor and offer them a cup of tea, using the opportunity to
tell them that Moore is in a bit of a state. They assure me that it’s only a
routine enquiry, and he has nothing to be anxious about. I return downstairs
and pass on this message; the shaking stops.
3.26 pm
Moore departs
with a smile and a wave; I’ve never seen a more relieved man.
4.00 pm
The seventeen
new prisoners arrive in a sweat box via Birmingham and Nottingham.
I report to the
hospital to check their blood pressure and note their weight and height.
It’s not easy
to carry out my new responsibilities while all seventeen of them talk at once.
What jobs are
there? How much are you paid? Can I go to the canteen tonight? What time are
roll-calls? Which is the best block?
Can I make a
phone call?
7.00 pm
Doug returns
from his day on the fork-lift trucks. He’s pleased to be doing the course
because if he hopes to retain his HGV licence, he would still have to take it
in a year’s time. The course is costing him £340 but he’d be willing to pay
that just to be allowed out for three days; ‘In fact, I’d pay a lot more,’ he
says.
8.15 pm
After roll-call
I take a bath before going over to the south block to say goodbye to Matthew.
By the time I check in at the hospital at 7.30 am tomorrow morning he will be a
free man. I do not envy him, because he should never have been sent to prison
in the first place.
DAY 121 - FRIDAY 16 NOVEMBER
of the beds and looks hopefully in the direction of the television screen. ‘Not
a chance,’ Linda tells him.
Once Linda has
sorted out the genuinely ill from the trying-it-on brigade, I’m handed four
lists of those she has sanctioned to be off work for the day. I deliver a copy
to the south block unit office, the farm office, the north block, the gatehouse
amd education before going to breakfast.
8.30 am
It’s Matthew’s
last day at NSC and he’s on the paper chase. He takes a double-sided printed
form from department to department, the hospital, gym, canteen, stores and
reception, to gather signatures authorizing his release tomorrow. He starts
with Mr Simpson, the probation officer at SMU, and will end with the principal
officer Mr New.
He will then
have to hand in this sheet of paper at reception tomorrow morning before he can
finally be released. It’s not unknown for a prisoner’s release paper to
disappear overnight, which can hold up an inmate’s departure for several hours.
I’ll miss
Matthew, who, at the age of twenty-four, will be returning to university to
complete his PhD. He’s taught me a great deal during the past five weeks. I’ve
met over a thousand prisoners since I’ve been in jail, and he is one of a
handful who I believe should never have been sent to prison. I wish him luck in
the future; he’s a fine young man.
12 noon
I drop into the
hospital to see if sister needs me.
‘Not at the
moment,’ says Linda, ‘but as we’re expecting seventeen new arrivals this
afternoon, please come back around four, or when you see the sweat box driving
through the front gate.’
‘How’s Bill?’ I
enquire.
‘He lasted about
forty minutes,’ she replies dryly, ‘but sadly failed to produce a specimen. I
sent him back to the farm, but of course told him to return immediately should
the problem arise again.’
2.00 pm
On returning to
SMU I find a prisoner sitting in the waiting room, visibly shaking. His name is
Moore. He tells me that he’s been called off work for a meeting with two police
officers who are travelling down from Derbyshire to interview him. He’s
completed seventeen months of a five-year sentence, and is anxious to know why
they want to see him.
2.30 pm
The police
haven’t turned up. I go to check on Moore – to find he’s a gibbering wreck.
2.53 pm
The two
Derbyshire police officers arrive.
They greet me
with a smile and don’t look at all ferocious. I take them up to an interview
room on the first floor and offer them a cup of tea, using the opportunity to
tell them that Moore is in a bit of a state. They assure me that it’s only a
routine enquiry, and he has nothing to be anxious about. I return downstairs
and pass on this message; the shaking stops.
3.26 pm
Moore departs
with a smile and a wave; I’ve never seen a more relieved man.
4.00 pm
The seventeen
new prisoners arrive in a sweat box via Birmingham and Nottingham.
I report to the
hospital to check their blood pressure and note their weight and height.
It’s not easy
to carry out my new responsibilities while all seventeen of them talk at once.
What jobs are
there? How much are you paid? Can I go to the canteen tonight? What time are
roll-calls? Which is the best block?
Can I make a
phone call?
7.00 pm
Doug returns
from his day on the fork-lift trucks. He’s pleased to be doing the course
because if he hopes to retain his HGV licence, he would still have to take it
in a year’s time. The course is costing him £340 but he’d be willing to pay
that just to be allowed out for three days; ‘In fact, I’d pay a lot more,’ he
says.
8.15 pm
After roll-call
I take a bath before going over to the south block to say goodbye to Matthew.
By the time I check in at the hospital at 7.30 am tomorrow morning he will be a
free man. I do not envy him, because he should never have been sent to prison
in the first place.
DAY 121 - FRIDAY 16 NOVEMBER
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