and ‘wanker’ are his more repeatable expletives. The boxing ends at 12.35 am, so I must have fallen asleep sometime after that.
DAY 75 – MONDAY 1 OCTOBER 2001
8.15 am
I mention to Shane that he must have kept most of the spur awake until after one o’clock, to which he replies, ‘Let’s face it, Jeff, I’m a fuckin’ yob, and you’ll just have to fuckin’ well learn to live with it.’
9.00 am
Pottery. One prisoner knocks the trunk off another inmate’s elephant and all he’ll breaks loose. A lot of oaths are uttered as the two of them face up for a fight, while the lifers goad them on. Anne disappears into the next room, and it’s some time before peace is restored. I discover later that both inmates involved are due to be released in a few weeks’ time, and neither would have wanted their sentence extended. The lifers glower, disappointed by the lack of action.
When the atmosphere returns to near normal, I suggest to the two lads that perhaps they both owe Anne (our teacher) an apology. Two older prisoners, both lifers, look on to see how the youngsters will react. They immediately disappear into the next room and say sorry to Anne. She looks surprised. The lifers nod in my direction. I make no excuses for these two louts’ behaviour, but how many of us realize just how lucky we are not to have been subjected to an upbringing where violence, bad language and crime are the norm?
3.00 pm
Three members of the Board of Visitors come to see me. They’ve heard I’m leaving in the near future, and I wanted a chance to chat to them. The BoV are all unpaid volunteers who give service without a great deal of thanks as both sides of the iron door are sceptical about their usefulness. Almost all the prisoners describe them as a complete waste of space, with the usual adjective attached. This isn’t actually fair; because these volunteers have brought about many improvements to prison life over the years, and only last year convinced Jack Straw (Home Secretary at the time) to change his mind on a major decision that affected Wayland.
I suggest to them that perhaps they should appear more often in the exercise yard. Once prisoners get used to seeing them strolling around, they may well come up and have a chat, and that might give inmates more confidence in them. We then discuss several contentious issues, in particular, the daily gripe about being banged up early on a Saturday, Sunday and Monday, when we are incarcerated for fourteen hours at a stretch. They point out the problem of staff shortages. No one likes to admit that there are only four officers on our wing at weekends. Officers at Wayland are currently owed 4,000 hours of overtime between them, and I doubt if it’s much different in any other prison.
DAY 76 – TUESDAY 2 OCTOBER 2001
9.00 am
The new probation officer asks to see me. Once I’ve settled in his office, he explains that he’s only going through the motions because if I move to a D-cat in the near future I won’t be seeing him again. When he learns that I’m appealing against both conviction and sentence, the meeting comes to an abrupt halt, and I am sent back to my cell.
12 noon
I phone Alison to discover that Tony Morton-Hooper has faxed Mr Carlton-Boyce (governor in charge of movement) with my preferences for a D-cat:
They all sound like minor public schools.
I know that they are unlikely to allow me to transfer to Latchmere House as I don’t fulfil their criteria, and Ford has already turned me down on the grounds that they couldn’t handle the press interest. The inmates who have been to Stamford Hill tell me it’s full of young crackheads who will drive me to an early grave. I expect therefore to end up at Spring Hill, which Mr Meanwell has recommended all along.
3.00 pm
The SO (senior officer) on duty calls me in for a private word. It seems that two prisoners on C block have complained to the governor that I was seen wearing a tracksuit top during exercise, a privilege enjoyed only by enhanced prisoners. He will therefore have to search my cell for the offending article, but he’s rather busy at the moment, so he won’t be able to do so for another thirty minutes.
The offending article is a cream Adidas top, bequeathed to me by Sergio on the day he was deported. I return to my cell and hand the top to Darren. After I’ve told him about the interview, he calls in Jimmy, and between them they give my cell a thorough going over. They also remove one bedside lamp, one tin opener and a yellow check blanket, all of which I have acquired during the past month, and am not entitled to unless enhanced.
The SO arrives thirty minutes later, accompanied by another officer and together they search my cell. They reappear fifteen minutes later, declaring my cell to be clean.
I later learn that the two prisoners from C block who made the complaint are lifers – both in for murder. Envy in prisons is every bit as prevalent as it is on the outside.
7.00 pm
I call Sergio in Bogota and take advantage of the PS7 left on his phonecard. The news is not good. None of my bids for the Boteros has been accepted. Chris Beetles turned out to be right – knowing the artist’s mother is of no significance when dealing with a painter of international reputation. ‘Offer $500,000 for The Card Players,’ is my immediate response. There is a long silence before Sergio admits. It’s already been sold for $900,000.’ Beep… beep… beep… seconds to go. Tm sorry, Jeffrey, I’ll keep trying to find you a…’
I’ve never heard from Sergio since.
DAY 77 – WEDNESDAY 3 OCTOBER 2001
8.15 am
As we wait to be called for breakfast, the talk among the prisoners in the corridor is all about Shane (GBH, gym orderly). They’re fed up (not their actual words) with the incessant noise he makes late at night and first thing in the morning. I overhear that two or three of them are planning to beat him up in the shower room after he comes back from the rugby match this afternoon. I ask Darren if I ought to report this to Mr Tinkler.
‘No,’ he says adamantly. ‘Mind your own fuckin’ business and leave it to us. But when you next see Tinkler or Meanwell, you could mention what a fuckin’ nuisance Shane’s become. Most of us would like to see him moved back upstairs.’ It’s the first time Darren has sworn in front of me.
9.00 am
Pottery. Cancelled because I have to attend a meeting with Reg Walton, the sentence management officer. He seems a nice chap, if a little overburdened by it all. He explains that he has to fill in yet another form if I’m to advance to a D-cat.
‘Be reinstated’ I explain firmly, giving him a brief run-down of how I ended up at Wayland. He nods, and begins to fill in the little boxes. Here we go again.
Once he’s filled in all the little boxes he stands up, shakes my hand and wishes me luck.
‘My wife loves your books.’ He pauses. Though I confess I’ve never read one.’
2.00 pm
