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10.00 am
An extra bed has appeared in my room, because two of the spurs are temporarily out of service while they’re being fitted for TVs. I found out today that prisoners are charged £1 a week for the hire of their TVs, and NSC will make an annual profit of £10,000 on this enterprise. At Wayland, I’m told it was £30,000. Free enterprise at its best. Still, the point of this entry is to let you know that I will soon be sharing my room with another prisoner.
2.40 pm
At Mr New’s request, I join him in his office. He’s just had a call from his opposite number at Spring Hill, who asked if I was aware that if transferred I would have to share a room.
‘Yes,’ I reply.
‘And can they confirm that the principal reason for seeking a transfer is the inconvenience to your family of having a 250-mile round trip to visit you?’
‘Yes,’ I reply.
Mr New nods. ‘I anticipated your answers. Although a decision has not yet been made, the first vacancy wouldn’t be until 28 November.’
Suddenly it’s crunch time. Would I rather stay at NSC as the hospital orderly, with my own room, TV, bathroom and fridge? Or move to Spring Hill and be nearer my family and friends? I’ll need to discuss the problem with Mary.
5.00 pm
I return to my room to do a couple of hours writing; so far, no other occupant has appeared to claim the second bed.
6.42 pm
My new room-mate arrives, accompanied by two friends. His name is Eamon, and he seems pleasant enough. I leave him to settle in.
When I stroll into the hospital, Clive has a large grin on his face. He spent eleven months in that room without ever having to share it for one night. I couldn’t even manage eleven days.
DAY 113
THURSDAY 8 NOVEMBER 2001
8.15 am
Breakfast. Wendy, the officer in charge of the kitchen, needs three new workers from this morning’s labour board.
‘But only yesterday you told me that you were overstaffed.’
‘True,’ she replies, hands on hips, ‘but that was yesterday, and I had to sack three of the blighters this morning.’
‘Why?’ I ask hopefully.
‘I knew you’d ask,’ she replies, ‘and only because you’re bound to find out sooner or later, I’ll tell you. I set three of them plucking chickens yesterday morning, and last night two of the birds went missing. I don’t know who stole them, but in my kitchen I dispense summary justice, so all three were sacked.’
9.30 am
Eight new prisoners arrive for induction today, including my room-mate Eamon. It seems that he worked in the kitchen at his last prison, but ‘on the out’ is a builder by trade. He’s due for release in January, and wants to work outside during the winter months to toughen himself up. Sounds logical to me, so I recommend that he opts for the farm.
10.00 am
Eamon gets his preferred job. I also find three new kitchen workers for Wendy, and the labour board is drinking coffee by 10.39 am. I need a new challenge.
12 noon
Lunch. I sit next to the new visits orderly, who tells me that ‘on the out’ he was a hairdresser in Leicester. He charged £27.50, but while he’s in prison, he’ll happily cut my hair once a month for a phonecard. Another problem solved.
2.30 pm
A fax has just been received from Spring Hill, requesting my latest sentence plan, which cannot be updated until I’ve served twenty-eight days at NSC. Sentence plans make up a part of every prisoner’s record, and are an important element when it comes to consideration for parole. Sentence planning boards are held almost every afternoon and conducted by Mr New and Mr Simpson. I am due before the board on 20 November. Mr New immediately brings it forward a week to 12 November — next Monday, which would be my twenty-ninth day at NSC, and promises to fax the result through to Spring Hill that afternoon. I’ll be interested to see what excuse they’ll come up with next.
