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I dreamed last night about a lovely man called John Bromley – Brommers to his friends – who died of cancer a few days ago. I had the privilege of working with him – you didn’t work for John, even though he was the head of ITV’s sport. He had an amazing gift of making even the tea lady feel part of the team. If you had a love of sport, good humour, fine wine and beautiful women, he was quite simply the best company a man could ask for. I predict that his memorial service will be as well attended as any prime minister’s. I only hope I’m out in time to be there.
9.30 am
A beautiful black Labrador called Bessie saunters into the hospital accompanied by two officers from the drug squad. I am told to wait in the lobby while Bessie goes about her work. Through the closed door, I can hear her padding around sniffing for drugs among my personal possessions. If Bessie can read, she’ll find several books, pamphlets and papers on drugs, but until you can fail an MDT for Ribena, Bovril or Evian, not much else.
The other prisoners sitting in the lobby waiting to see the doctor can’t mask their surprise. A few moments later, the door is opened and Bessie reappears, and as she passes by, ignores me – a good sign, because if Bessie starts to sniff you, you’re in trouble. If she licks you, you’ll be up on a charge. I ought to be pleased, but when I return to the ward, Bessie’s paw-prints are everywhere, and I scrubbed the floor only yesterday.
11.00 am
Mr Hocking explains that the drug search had a purpose. They are about to make a big swoop, following another tip-off, and he wanted the other inmates to see that I was not exempt from being searched. By now everyone in the prison will know, and some might even wonder if I’m about to be shipped out. I suspect the real search will take place later today.
3.00 pm
I have a legal visit from my solicitors Tony Morton Hooper and Lord Mishcon, now aged eighty-four – it’s kind of him to endure the seven-hour round trip. We spend the next two hours preparing for the upcoming appeal, not that a date has yet been fixed.
6.00 pm
Doug tells me that we are to have a new governing governor called Mr Beaumont. As he was governor of Leicester Prison, there will be a lot of inmates who can brief us about him.
DAY 211
THURSDAY 14 FEBRUARY 2002
8.15 am
I no longer have breakfast in the main hall because Linda supplies me with a box of cornflakes
once a week and a half pint of milk every day. Today she added a new luxury – a banana.
9.00 am
One of the prisoners in surgery this morning needs a weekend leave form signed by the doctor, to show he is fit to be out of prison. Yesterday his leave was revoked because he drew out a large sum of money from his canteen account, leaving a balance of only £3.72. You cannot take weekend leave unless you have at least £4 in your account. It is assumed that if you empty your account, then you’re probably going to abscond. This seems unlikely in this case as the prisoner has only two weeks of his sentence left.
Mr Berlyn shows some common sense, allows the prisoner to put 28p back into the account and signs his weekend leave pass.
12 noon
Lunch in the canteen. Potato bake and cabbage, followed by sponge cake covered, and I mean covered, in custard. I never eat the second course, but take it, because Carl can always eat two portions.
3.00 pm
Dr Harris is on duty and his first responsibility is to sign the discharge papers for eight prisoners who will be released tomorrow. All of them have been granted tagging status, which allows them to leave two months early as long as they remain in their homes between the hours of 7 pm and 7 am. These hours can be flexible if it affects their job.
When I first arrived at NSC and worked as the orderly in the sentence management unit, the tagging board of Mr Berlyn and Mr Simpson used to agree to about 50 per cent of those eligible for this privilege. Now all eight are granted on the same day,25 including a twenty-three-year-old who’s already been to prison four times. Lee admits that he was shocked when the board granted him tagging status, as his offence was punching someone on the nose in a pub brawl and in any case he looks upon prison as a way of life. In fact, his last comment to Linda before leaving us was, ‘See you towards the end of the year, if not before.’ He turns to me and adds, ‘Let’s hope you’re out by then, Jeff.’
4.15 pm
I sweep out the ward and mop the floor. On alternate days I vacuum Linda’s little office removing Bessie’s paw prints. All very therapeutic.
5.00 pm
I call Mary. She thanks me for the flowers that I asked Alison to send her yesterday. She then brings me up to date on Angie Peppiatt and Mr Justice Potts.
5.30 pm
I collect my post. Eleven Valentine cards, which I display in the ward for all to see, plus several letters, including one from John Major and another from Billy Connolly.
Many years ago when John was Chancellor of the Exchequer, I asked him to open the extension to our new folly at the Old Vicarage at our annual summer party. John described the building as ‘Mary’s second folly’. Billy spoke next and immediately closed it.
