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6.00 pm
A visit from Mr Hocking. I’m no longer to dispose of personal papers, letters, envelopes or notes in the dustbin outside the hospital, as a prisoner was caught rifling through the contents last night. In future I must hand them to a security officer, who will shred them. NSC does not want to repeat the Belmarsh debacle, where an officer stole a chapter of my book and tried to sell it to the Sun.
8.00 pm
I sit in my palace and hold court with Doug, Clive and Carl, or at least that’s how it feels after Belmarsh and Wayland.
In London, Mary is hosting our Christmas party.
DAY 149
FRIDAY 14 DECEMBER 2001
10.00 am
Today is judgment day. Three prisoners are up in front of the governor. Inmates take a morbid interest in the outcome of any adjudication as it’s a yardstick for discovering what they can hope to get away with.
Martin, the reception orderly who pleaded guilty to attempting to steal prison clothes on the day he was due to be released, has his tagging privileges removed, and seven days added to his sentence. So for the sake of a pair of jeans and a few prison shirts, Martin will remain at NSC until a couple of weeks before Easter, rather than spending Christmas at home with his wife and family. Added to this, the sixty-seven days will not be spent in the warmth of reception as an orderly, but on the farm in the deep mid-winter cleaning out the pig pens.
Barry is next up. His crime was not grassing on Martin. Although Martin stated clearly at the adjudication that Barry was not party to the offence, he also loses his orderly job, and returns to the farm as a shepherd. For the governor to expect him to ‘grass’ on his friend (I even doubt if they were friends) seems to me a little rough.
Finding competent replacements will not be easy. The rumour is that Peter (lifer, just had his first day out after thirty-one years) has been offered the job as the next step in his rehabilitation. Peter tells me that he doesn’t want to be an orderly, and is happy to continue sweeping up leaves.
The third prisoner in front of the governor this morning is Ali, a man serving three months for theft. Ali has refused to work on the farm and locked himself in his room. For this act of defiance, he has four days added to his sentence. This may not sound excessive, and in normal circumstances I don’t think he could complain, as it’s the statutory sentence for refusing to work. However, the four days are Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, Boxing Day and 27 December.
Ali arrives in the hospital moments after the adjudication and bursts into tears. The governor decides that I should be punished as well, because Linda puts me in charge of him. It’s ten-forty and the governor wants Ali back on the farm by this afternoon. Fortunately, England are playing India. It’s the second day of the Test, and Ali knows his cricket. We settle down in the hospital ward to watch the final session of the day. Sachin Tendulkar is at the crease so Ali stops crying. By lunchtime (end of play in Madras), Tendulkar has scored 123 and Ali’s tears have turned to smiles.
He’s back on the farm at one o’clock.
3.00 pm
Seven new prisoners in from Nottingham today, and as we only released three this morning, our numbers reach 211; our capacity is 220. The weekly turnover at NSC is about 20 per cent, and I’m told it always peaks at this time of year. I’m also informed by one of the lifers that there are more absconders over Christmas, many of whom give themselves up on Boxing Day evening. The governor’s attitude is simple; if they return to the gate and apologize, they have twenty-eight days added to their sentence; if they wait until they’re picked up by the police, then in addition to the added twenty-eight days, they’re shipped out to a B-cat the following morning.
4.00 pm
Linda asks me to take two blood samples down to the gate, so they can be sent to Pilgrim Hospital. On the three-hundred-yard walk, I become distracted by a new idea for how the twins discover their identity in Sons of Fortune. When I arrive at the gate, the blood samples are no longer in the plastic packet, and must have fallen out en route. I run for the first time in weeks. I don’t want to lose my job, and end up working on the farm. I see Jim (gym orderly) running towards me — he’s found the samples on the side of the path. I thank him between puffs — he’s saved me from my first reportable offence. Actually, I think I should confess at this stage that some weeks ago I picked up a penny from the path and have kept
the tiny coin in my jeans pocket, feeling a slight defiance in possessing cash. I put the samples back in their plastic packet and hand them in at the gate.
Incidentally, the other gym orderly Bell is also the NSC goalkeeper. He used to be at Spring Hill, but asked for a transfer to be nearer his wife. NSC needed a goalkeeper, so the transfer only took four days. Thanks to this little piece of subterfuge we’re now on a winning streak. However, I have to report that the goalkeeper’s wife has run off with his best friend, which may account for Bell being sent off last week. We lost 5-0.
DAY 150
SATURDAY 15 DECEMBER 2001
7.30 am
I now have to work seven days a week, as there’s a surgery on Saturday and Sunday. It’s a small price to pay for all the other privileges of being hospital orderly.
Not many patients today, eleven in all, but then there’s no work to skive off on a Saturday morning. Sister leaves at ten-thirty and I have the rest of the day to myself, unless there’s an emergency.
11.00 am
Spend a couple of hours editing Sons of Fortune, and only take breaks for lunch, and later to watch the prison football match.
2.00 pm
The football manager and coach is a senior officer called Mr Masters. He’s proud of his team, but when it comes to abusing the referee, he’s as bad as any other football fan. Today he’s linesman, and should be supporting the ref, not to mention the other linesman. But both receive a tirade of abuse, as Mr Masters feels able to give his opinion on an offside decision even though he’s a hundred yards away from the offence, and the linesman on the other side of the pitch is standing opposite the offending player. To be fair, his enthusiasm rubs off on the rest of the team, and we win a scrappy game 2-0.
