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‘If the deal had been the other way round,’ Robinson suggests, ‘I’d be the dead man.’
12.30 pm
Over lunch I discuss the drug problem in prisons with the two gym orderlies, both of whom abhor the habit. I am shocked — can I still be shocked? — when Jim (burglary, antiques only) tells me that 30 per cent of the inmates at NSC are on heroin. But more depressing still, when Jim was here eight years ago for a previous offence, he says only a handful of the inmates were on drugs. What will it be like in ten years’ time?
1.00 pm
As I walk back from lunch, I see Brian and John, the CSV Red Cross workers, heading towards me. They’ve both been taken off the job and confined to the prison while an enquiry is being conducted. Maria, who runs the Red Cross shop in Boston, has been accused of smuggling contraband (twelve paperbacks) into the prison. Apparently she should have informed the gate staff of her request to have the books autographed by me. Brian tells me they left her in tears, and I am bound to say that what started out as a simple goodwill gesture has ended in turmoil; the Red Cross have been removed as participants in the CSV scheme, and Brian and John have lost their jobs. I resolve to find out if there is more to it — prison has taught me not to automatically take something on trust — and if there isn’t, to try to right this injustice.
8.00 pm
Carl suggests we watch Midnight Express, a sure way of reminding ourselves just how lucky we all are. And to think Turkey wants to be a full member of the European Union.
DAY 156
FRIDAY 21 DECEMBER 2001
9.00 am
Dr Walling is on duty today. He’s full of good cheer, and brings Christmas presents for Linda and myself. Linda gets a box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates, and he presents me with a bottle of Scotch. Linda quickly grabs the bottle, explaining that it’s against prison rules to offer prisoners alcohol. If I’d been caught with a bottle of whisky (actually I don’t drink spirits) I would have lost my job, and possibly have been sent to a B-cat with added days. Dr Walling looks suitably embarrassed.
12.00 pm
Simon (abduction of his son, mess orderly) drops in to deliver Linda’s sandwich lunch. While I make her a coffee, Simon tells me he’s moving room today. His room-mate, a married man with two children, asked him last night if he’d ever considered being bisexual. Simon tells me that he jumped out of bed, got dressed, left the room and demanded to be moved, as he didn’t want to be locked up with, in his words, ‘a raving faggot’.
8.00 pm
I watch Great Artists on BBC 2. The subject is Breughel, and all the little Breughels.
10.00 pm
Fall asleep in my chair, exhausted. It must be the combination of writing and hospital duties. Can’t complain though, as the days are passing far more quickly.
DAY 157
SATURDAY 22 DECEMBER 2001
9.00 am
Prison life is like a game of cricket; every day you discover a new way of getting out.
The doctor has to pass as fit this morning an inmate by the name of Hal (cat burglar, six months) before he goes up in front of the governor. Last night Hal left the prison and walked into Boston. He dropped into one of the local pubs, had a pint and then purchased a bottle of vodka, a bottle of rum and a six-pack of Fosters. Hal didn’t feel like walking the six miles back, so he decided to thumb a lift to the prison. Mr Blackman, one of our younger officers, obliged and happily escorted Hal back, confiscated the contraband and booked him into the segregation block. Hal was due to be released in January, but I fear it’s now looking more like February. It turns out that he also suggested to Mr Blackman that if he dropped him off half a mile from the prison, he could keep the bounty. Nice try, Hal.
Among the other inmates who will appear in front of the governor this morning is Simon (abducting his son), but only for a warning. It appears he’s been telling anyone who will listen that his cell-mate is ‘a raving faggot’. The governor will order him to stop using such inflammatory language otherwise he will lose his job as mess orderly.
I chat to the cat burglar as he waits to see the doctor. Hal says he doesn’t care that much what the governor decides. His partner has left him, his mother won’t speak to him and he hasn’t seen his father in years. When he gets out, he doesn’t have anywhere to stay overnight, and only has £37 to his name. He says he needs a job that will earn him enough money to ensure that he doesn’t have to revert to stealing again.
I ask him, ‘How much is enough?’
‘Two hundred quid,’ he replies. ‘Then I’d have a chance of finding some digs and getting a job.’
11.00 am
Mr Lewis drops into the hosp
ital to wish Linda a happy Christmas. While I’m making him a coffee, he complains that I’ve thrown away the hospital ashtray, so he can’t enjoy a cigar. I reluctantly supply an old saucer. He tells me that he was surprised by the Spring Hill decision and, looking round the hospital, says pointedly, ‘If they suggest Hollesley Bay, don’t even consider it.’
2.50 pm
