Heaven (A Prison Diary 3)

‘You’re picking on me because I’m a Muslim …’

Unfortunately, I’ve not seen a black or Asian officer at either Wayland or North Sea Camp, otherwise I might have tried, ‘You’re only picking on me because I’m white …’

Can you name one country on earth that has a race relations policy to protect the whites? Certainly not Zimbabwe, which is in the headlines again today. I mention this only because a circular was sent to all departments today, which clearly shows how seriously the Prison Service takes minority rights.

12 noon

Mr Belford drops into the hospital and reports a conversation he heard between two elderly ladies standing at a bus stop in Boston:

First lady: ‘Did you see Jeffrey Archer in the pub last night?’

Second lady: ‘No, I thought he was in jail.’

First lady: ‘No, he’s down at our local almost every night, drinking pint after pint, before he’s driven back to the prison by his chauffeur in a Rolls Royce.’

Second lady: ‘It’s a disgrace.’

The officer pointed out to the ladies that I have never once left the NSC since the day I arrived, and I don’t drink.

‘That’s what you think,’ came back the immediate reply.

DAY 175

WEDNESDAY 9 JANUARY 2002

5.14 am

I wake and consider the future.

Everything rests on the result of my appeal. I currently have a four-year sentence. In present circumstances, assuming I remain a model prisoner, I’ll serve two, subject to my parole board report being positive, which means I will be released on 19 July 2003. However, I am appealing against sentence and conviction, and if my conviction is overturned, then I’ll be released the same day. If not, all will depend on my sentence being reduced. If the three appeal judges were to lower my sentence from four years to three, I would no longer be subject to the parole board, and would be eligible for automatic release in eighteen months. If my record remains unblemished, I will be released on a tag two months before that, after sixteen months – on 17 November 2002. Ten months’ time. If the appeal court judges reduce my sentence to two years, I will be released on 17 May, which is only another four months. If my sentence is reduced to the common length for perjury, i.e. eighteen months, I will be released on 17 March – in six weeks’ time.

Perhaps now you can understand why I am so anxious about my appeal, and wait daily to hear from the courts when I will appear before them.

10.00 am

A trainee nurse joins us. Simon will spend three weeks at NSC on secondment from the Pilgrim Hospital. He will quickly discover that prisoners are treated far better than the general public. At seven, you can pick up your paracetamol, aspirins, lozenges, mouthwash and prescribed medication. At nine, you can see the doctor, and you never have to wait for more than twenty minutes. At eleven, if you are stressed or want to give up smoking or come off drugs, you can attend an acupuncture course. At twelve, you can come back and get some more medication. At two-thirty you can attend a talk on giving up smoking; nicotine patches are handed out when the talk is over. At four-thirty you can come back for more medication. After 5 pm, the orderly can supply aspirin or paracetamol to any prisoner who has a slip from an officer. If you are seriously ill, an ambulance will have you tucked up in the Pilgrim Hospital within the hour.

In any one day, a determined prisoner can spend hundreds of pounds of taxpayers’ money, whereas in truth, I doubt if 10 per cent of them would visit a doctor ‘on the out’ and certainly wouldn’t go to a chemist if it meant parting with a penny of their own cash. So what, our new intern will learn is that if you are ill, it’s better to be in prison than an infirm old-age pensioner or a sick child.

DAY 176

THURSDAY 10 JANUARY 2002

1.15 pm

Although the fire alarm is tested every day at one o’clock, today it sounds for a second time at one-fifteen. Security are carrying out a full-scale fire drill.

All staff, prison officers and inmates have to report to the farmyard, where we line up in separate pens. I go to the one marked hospital, and join Linda, Gail and Simon. On my left is north block one, on my right the lifers’ unit – a score of murderers gathered together.

Everyone from the governor to the most recently arrived inmate is on parade. We wait to be checked off by Mr Hocking, the senior security officer. It’s the first time I’ve seen the whole community in one place, and it highlights how disproportionate the numbers of staff are to prisoners. This is fine in a D-cat where everything is based on trust, but would be impossible in closed conditions. If you had a fire drill in an A- or B-cat, you could only hope to carry it out spur by spur, in a C-cat perhaps block by block, unless you wanted a riot on your hands or a mass escape.

1.45 pm

Two hundred and eleven prisoners, and thirty-eight staff (including clerical) return to work.

8.00 pm

I watch Raiders of the Lost Ark. The last time I saw this film was with my two sons – Will was then nine and James seven. It was produced by one of my oldest friends, Frank Marshall.18