The broadsheets all report the findings of the KPMG report. Several point out that none of this would have arisen if Baroness Nicholson, a former Tory MP turned Liberal peer, hadn’t made her complaint to Sir John Stevens in the first place. I call Mary to discuss our next move, but there’s no reply.
2.00 pm
I have a visit today from Doreen and Henry Miller. Doreen is a front-bench spokesman in the Lords having previously been a minister under John Major. She brings me up to date with news of the Upper House, and tells me that the latest Lords reform bill is detested on both sides of the chamber. The Bill ignores John Wakeham’s excellent Royal Commission report, and doesn’t placate the Labour party because not a large enough percentage of peers will be elected, and doesn’t placate the Tory party because it removes all the remaining hereditary peers. ‘It cannot,’ Doreen assures me, ‘reach the statute book in its present form, because it will meet with so much opposition in both Houses.’ [10]
When Doreen and Henry leave, I don’t know where the ninety minutes went.
4.00 pm
I call Mary, but the phone just rings and rings.
4.40 pm
Watch England beat South Africa 29-9 and despite the Irish hiccup, begin to believe we might be the best rugby team in the world. If I’m let out in time, I will travel to Australia to see the next world rugby cup.
7.00 pm
I call Mary. Still no reply.
8.15 pm
After checking in for roll-call I join Doug at the hospital to find four officers in the waiting room. One of them, Mr Harding, is spattered with blood. Mr Hocking, the chief security officer, is taking a photograph of him. It turns out that Mr Hocking, acting on a tip-off, was informed that two inmates had disappeared into Boston to pick up some booze, so he and three other officers were lying in wait for them. However, when they were spotted returning, the first prisoner grabbed Mr Harding’s heavy torch and hit him over the head, allowing his mate enough time to escape. The first prisoner was wrestled to the ground and handcuffed, and is now locked up in the segregation block. The second has still to reappear, although they know which prisoner it is. Even a cub reporter would realize there’s an ongoing story here.
DAY 130 SUNDAY 25 NOVEMBER 2001
8.04 am
Phone Mary in Cambridge; no reply. Try London and only get the answering machine. Report to Linda at the hospital. Doug’s away on a town leave (7 am to 7 pm) so I’m temporary keeper of the pills.
11.30 am
During lunch, I discover from one of the gym orderlies that they caught the second inmate who was trying to bring drink back into the prison. He’ll be shipped out to Nottingham this afternoon.
Self-abuse is often one of the reasons they move offenders out so quickly. It’s not unknown for a prisoner who is kept in lock-up overnight to cut his wrists or even break an arm, and then blame it on the officer who charged him. The prisoner can then claim he was attacked first, which means that he can’t be moved until there has been a full enquiry. Mr Hocking took several photographs of both prisoners, which will make that course of action a little more difficult to explain.
12 noon
The morning papers are predicting that I’ll soon be moved to Spring Hill so I can be nearer my family. One or two of them even suggest that I should never have been sent to Wayland or NSC in the first place simply on an allegation made by Ms Nicholson.
10.00 pm
After the news, I call Mary again, but there’s still no reply.
DAY 131 MONDAY 26 NOVEMBER 2001
8.30 am
One of my duties at SMU is the distribution of bin liners. At eight-thirty every morning, two prisoners, Alf and Rod, check in for work and take away a bin liner each. This morning Alf demands ten. I will allow you a few seconds to fathom out why, because I couldn’t.
I make a weekly order for provisions on a Friday, which is delivered on Monday, and always includes ten bin liners, so Alf is about to wipe out my entire stock in one day. I can’t believe he’s trading them and they are far too big for the small wastepaper baskets in his room, so I give in and ask why the sudden demand. Alf tells me that the director-general of the Prison Service, Martin Narey, is visiting NSC on Wednesday, and the governor wants the place smartened up for his inspection. Fair enough. However, if Mr Narey is half-intelligent, it won’t take him long to realize that NSC is a neglected dump and short of money. If they show him the north or south block, he’ll wonder if we have any cleaners as he holds his nose and steps gingerly through the rubbish. The visits room is a disgrace and extracurricular activities almost non-existent. However, if he is only shown the canteen, gym, farm, hospital and SMU, he will leave with a favourable impression.
I’m told the real purpose for Mr Narey’s visit is to discuss how this prison will prepare for resettlement status once the new governor takes over in January.
10.30 am
Mr Belford, a south block officer, pops in for a coffee. He tells me that the inmate who photographed me in my room failed to sell the one picture he managed to snap, because the negative came out so poorly.
11.00 am
Today’s new inductees from Nottingham include a pupil barrister (ABH), a taxi driver (overcharging) and a farm labourer (theft from his employer). They all end up on the farm because the prison is overcrowded and there are no other jobs available.
6.00 pm
Canteen. I’m ?13.50 in credit (I earn ?8.50 a week, and can supplement that with ?10 of my own money). I purchase two phonecards, three bottles of Evian, a packet of Gillette razor blades, a roll-on deodorant and a toothbrush, which cleans out my account. I’m not in desperate need of all these items, but it’s my way of making sure I can’t buy any more chocolate as I need to lose the half stone I’ve put on since arriving at NSC.
7.00 pm
I phone James at work. He tells me that Mary has been on the move for the past few days – Oundle, London and Cambridge, and then back to London this afternoon. [11]
I join Doug in the hospital. He is anticipating an interview with Exotic Foods on Wednesday or Thursday, and hopes to begin work next Monday, a week earlier than originally planned. He has already spoken to Mr Belford about a room on the south block, in the no-smoking spur, and to Mr Berlyn about his travel arrangements to Boston. However, there is a fly in the ointment, namely Linda, who feels Doug should train his successor for a week before he leaves.
7.10 pm
I call Chris Beetles’ gallery and wish Chris luck for the opening of the illustrators’ show. Mary is hoping to drop in and see the picture I’ve selected for this year’s Christmas card. I ask him to pass on my love and tell her I’ll ring Cambridge tomorrow evening. For the first time in thirty-five years, I haven’t spoken to my wife in five days. Don’t forget, she can’t call me.
