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‘You won’t be going to C wing after all, because we’re going to move you down to join your friends on the enhanced corridor.’
‘So what’s the bad news?’ I ask.
Unfortunately, a cell won’t be available until 29 August, when the next prisoner on that corridor will have completed his sentence.’
‘But you could still put me in a single cell on another part of the block.’
‘Don’t push your luck,’ he says with a grin, before slamming the door closed.
12 noon
Lunch: soup (minestrone) and a piece of brown bread (fresh). Couldn’t face the meat pie. Heaven knows what animal’s inside it..
2.00 pm
Gym: I’m the first to set foot in the gym, only to find that the running machine has broken down. Damn, damn, damn.
I warm up and stretch for a few minutes before doing ten minutes on the rower. I manage 1,909 metres, a vast improvement on yesterday. A little light weight training before moving on to a bicycle, the like of which I have never seen before. I can’t get the hang of it until Mr Maiden comes to my rescue and explains that once you’ve set the speed, the peddles just revolve until you stop them. He sets the pace at thirty kilometres per hour, and leaves me to get on with it. I sweat away for ten minutes, and then realize I don’t know how to turn it off. I shout to Everett (GBH) for help - a black man who I sat next to during the dominoes encounter - but he just grins, or simply doesn’t understand my predicament. When my screaming goes up a decibel, Mr Maiden finally comes to my rescue. He can’t stop laughing as he shows me which button I have to press to bring the machine to a halt. It’s marked STOP - in red. I fall off the bike, exhausted, which causes much mirth among the other prisoners, especially the dominoes players. I use the rest of my time lying on a rubber mat recovering.
As the prisoners begin to make their way back to their cells - no gates, no searches - I’m called to Mr Maiden’s office. Once his door
is closed and no other prisoner can overhear, he asks, Would you like to join the staff on Friday morning to assist with a special needs group from Dereham Adult Training Centre?’
‘Of course I would,’ I tell him.
Jimmy is the only other prisoner who presently helps that group, so perhaps you should have a word with him.’
I thank Mr Maiden and return to my cell. I don’t immediately take a shower as I am still sweating from the bicycle experience, so I use the time to call my PA, Alison. I tell her I need more A4 pads and pens because I’m currently writing two to three thousand words a day. I also need stamped envelopes addressed to her - large A4 size for the manuscript and slightly smaller ones so I can turn round my daily postbag. Alison tells me that because of the sackfuls of letters I am receiving both in prison and at the office, as well as having to type two scripts at once, she’s putting in even longer hours than when I was a free man.
‘And to think that you were worried about losing your job if I were to end up in jail,’ I remind her. Just wait until I get my hands back on my novel. You’ll be working weekends as well.’
Alison confirms that the last five chapters of Belmarsh have arrived safely, thanks to the cooperation of Roy, the censor. No such problem at Wayland, where you just drop your envelope in a postbox and off it goes. I remind her that I need the Belmarsh script back as soon as possible, to go over it once again before I let Jonathan Lloyd (my agent) read it for the first time. My final request is to be put through to Will.
He’s in Cambridge with Mary.’
Although I check to see how many units are left on the phonecard, I haven’t needed to worry about the problem lately as Dale seems to be able to arrange an endless supply of them.
I dial Cambridge and catch Mary, who is just leaving to chair a meeting at Addenbrooke’s Hospital, where she is deputy chairman. After a few words, she passes me over to Will. He is full of news and tells me Mum has been preparing in her usual diligent way for the Today interview. Since he spoke to me last, Andy Bearpark, who covered Kurdish affairs at the Overseas Development Administration during the relevant time, confirms he has been contacted by KPMG regarding the audit. Will feels the police will be left with little choice but to complete their initial report quickly and reinstate my D-cat. I thank him, particularly for the support he’s giving his mother. I then tell him that I’ve finished the Belmarsh section of the diaries and ask if he’s found time to read the odd chapter.
‘I just can’t face it, Dad. It’s bad enough that you’re there.’ I tell him that I have already decided that there will be three volumes of the prison diary: Hell, Purgatory and Heaven, with an epilogue called ‘Back to Earth’. This at least makes him laugh. As I’m telling him this, Jimmy passes me in the corridor and I turn to ask if he could spare me a moment. He nods, and waits until I finish my conversation with Will.
Jimmy has also heard that I may be joining them on the enhanced wing, but wonders if Nutboume’s information came from on high.
‘Exactly my thoughts,’ I tell him. I then mention that Mr Maiden has invited me to join them in the gym on Friday morning to assist with the special needs group. I’m surprised by his reaction.
‘You jammy bastard,’ says Jimmy. ‘I had to wait a couple of years before I was invited to join that shift, and you get asked after four days.’ Funnily enough I hadn’t thought of it as a perk, but simply as doing something worthwhile.
Jimmy invites me down to his cell for a drink, my only chance of having a Diet Coke. We’re joined by Jason, who spotted me in the corridor. Jason hands me a pair of slippers and a wash bag, which are normally only issued to enhanced prisoners.
‘You jammy bastard,’ repeats Jimmy, before he starts going on about his weight. Jimmy is six foot one, slim and athletic (see plate section). He trains every day in the gym and is known by the inmates as Brad Pitt.
‘More like Arm Pitt’ says Jason.
Jimmy smiles and continues to grumble, ‘I need to put on some weight.’
‘I like you as you are, darling,’ Jason replies.
I decide this is an ideal opportunity to ask them how drugs are smuggled into prison. Both throw out one-liners to my myriad questions, and between them continue my education on the subject.
