Purgatory Read online

  Jules has already been enhanced, which affords him several privileges, including wearing his own clothes. He’s recently come down to our spur to take over Danny’s cell. He tells me that they’ve enrolled him as a Listener which, as I’ve already explained, is a big responsibility. His educational programme (A level English) is going well, and when he says, ‘I won’t be coming back once I’ve been released,’ in his case, I believe him.

  3.15 pm

  Gym. Complete programme in one hour, steady or slight improvement almost every day.

  6.30 pm

  Mr Clegg takes me through my D-cat form and, as my spur officer, signs me off as a model prisoner. By that he means no drugs, no violence, no other charges since entering prison. The document will now be passed on to Mr King, who in turn will send it up to Mr Carlton-Boyce, who in turn…

  Mr Clegg goes on to tell me that a prisoner has reported him for racism. Now whatever failings Mr Clegg might have, being a racist is not one of them. So when I return to the spur, I brief Nigel (GBH), known as Preacher (see plate section), who is the block’s race relations representative. He tells me that he’ll speak to Mr King and try to straighten things out.

  8.00 pm

  Mary has flown to Washington for the fiftieth birthday of a mutual friend, so I can’t call her. I begin Henry IV, Part I.

  DAY 79 - FRIDAY 5 OCTOBER 2001

  9.00 am

  My little special needs group are now breaking records every week. Alex is even joining in with catchball, which rounds off every session. Darren has promised to take them over once I depart, which is a relief, because he’s almost as much of a martinet as I am.

  11.00 am

  Mr King tells me that my D-cat forms have been handed over to Mr Carlton-Boyce. He also adds that Nigel has been to see him about Mr Clegg, and made it clear that no other prisoner has ever described him as a racist. Mr King thanks me for my intervention, explaining that this sort of slur is hard to remove once it’s been written up on an officer’s report.

  ‘Tell Ms Nicholson that,’ I say in a moment of anger.

  12 noon

  Lunch. I have a small portion of beans and chips as it’s canteen day. How can I hope to lose weight with a diet of beans and chips supplemented by Cadbury’s Fruit and Nut plus crisps? I shall have to become the gym orderly at my next prison.

  9.00 pm

  The prime minister hints that the bombing of Afghanistan is about to begin. He adds that the ground war that will follow could continue beyond next summer. I can only wonder where I’ll be next summer.

  Manage Act IV of Henry TV, Part I before falling asleep.

  If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused gurnet,’ declares Falstaff. I have to look up gurnet.

  DAY 8O - SATURDAY 6 OCTOBER 2OO1

  11.00 am

  Governor Carlton-Boyce calls for me to confirm that my D-cat is going through the system. He asks if I have any preference as to which prison I would like to be moved to. It becomes clear he hasn’t read Tony Morton-Hooper’s letter. I explain that as my main residence is in London, any D-cat in that area would be fine, because then my family will find it easier to visit. We discuss Latchmere House, Spring Hill and Stamford Hill. He says he’ll check on availability and let me know.

  2.30 pm

  Amazing Brookes cartoon of Osama bin Laden as a poisonous mushroom in Nature Notes on the back of today’s Times (see plate section). I call Chris Beetles, who represents the cartoonist and ask if we should add it to the collection.

  I have been putting together a cartoon collection - with Chris’s help - for the past fifteen years, which I had intended to leave to the Palace of Westminster (Parliament). I’m even having second thoughts about that. The collection comprises around three hundred drawings, and includes works by Beerbohm, Vicky, Gould, Kal, Searle, Furniss, Steadman and Scarfe, amongst many others. The collection also includes sixteen Brookes, but only nine hang in the flat. Chris feels we should remove Hague from the wall (an octopus surrounded by suckers) and replace him with bin Laden. The cartoonist keeps the odd gem for his private collection, so I may not be able to acquire it Should you be wondering, black and white, PS850, colour, PS1,450. Chris points out that he hasn’t yet seen the quintessential cartoon summing up the full horror of September 11th.

  5.00 pm

  Steve (conspiracy to murder, librarian) has just returned from the visits hall where he’s been in charge of the shop. He tells me that they’ve had to stop selling Walkers crisps because one of the inmates opened a packet and pulled out a PS20 note (the company’s latest promotional scheme). The money was immediately impounded by a surveillance officer and credited to the prisoner’s canteen account (no inmate is allowed to be in possession of money for obvious reasons). All boxes of Walkers have been replaced with Golden Wonder until this campaign is over.

  DAY 81 - SUNDAY 7 OCTOBER 2001

  8.00 am

  After writing for two hours I turn on the news to discover that the bombing of Afghanistan has begun in earnest. Forty strike aircraft and fifty cruise missiles (PS750,000 each) have been deployed. David Frost interviews everyone from Kissinger to Clinton, but by 9.30 am we’re none the wiser as to how the campaign is going.

  11.00 am

  Exercise. As Darren, Jimmy and I stroll round the yard we pass an officer I’ve never seen before because he’s attached to another block. His name is Zac Carr, known as ‘Z cars’. Jimmy tells me that he was temporarily suspended for allowing a prisoner to tattoo him. It’s an offence for one prisoner to tattoo another, let alone an officer. Jimmy then describes how the prisoner (the best tattoo artist at Wayland) goes about his craft. I later ask Mr Nutbourne if the story is true. He nods and says, ‘I could tell you many more stories about Z cars,’ he pauses, smiles, and adds, ‘but I won’t.’

  11.45 am

  Nigel (GBH, race relations rep) walks into my cell to complain that black people aren’t represented enough on TV. I sympathize with him and ask what he feels should be done about it.

  They ought to show Crimewatch seven nights a week,’ he adds with a grin, ‘because that would just about even it up.’ Having got a rise out of me, he leaves. I continue writing.

  8.00 pm

  Patricia Routledge gives a moving performance in Everyone’s Nightmare, the true story of a woman who was wrongly convicted of murdering her mother and spent four years in jail before her sentence was quashed. Once you’ve been convicted, it can take forever to prove your innocence.

  DAY 82 - MONDAY 8 OCTOBER 2001

  11.00 am

  All the papers have stories reporting that I’m about to be transferred to a D-cat. The Daily Mail mentions five possible prisons, so that they can eventually tell their readers they got it right. They didn’t. None of them bother to say that the police have dropped their enquiries. I suppose that would be asking too much.

  12 noon

  The allies have bombed Kabul for a second night, but there is still no news as to how effective the onslaught has been.

  6.00 pm

  Write for two hours, but am unable to concentrate because I know Mary is on a flight back from New York. I won’t be able to speak to her until tomorrow morning as I’m already banged up.

  8.00 pm

  Mr Nutbourne comes to my cell to tell me that he’s off on holiday to Cuba. He assumes I’ll have been transferred by the time he returns and says that he’s sorry to have met me in these circumstances, and wishes me well for the future.

  DAY 83 - TUESDAY 9 OCTOBER 2001

  DAY 84 - WEDNESDAY 10 OCTOBER 2001

  8.45 am

  Mr King tells me as I collect my breakfast that I will not be going to Latchmere House, so they are now trying Spring Hill. As Mr Carlton-Boyce has not briefed me himself but left it to the duty officer, I fear this does not bode well.

  11.00 am

  Exercise. Darren and I are joined by a prisoner from Singapore, who wishes to remain anonymous. He tells us that he’s inside for selling ‘duff heroin
to a young girl, who later died in hospital. He was convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to four years. He just thought I ought to know.

  5.00 pm

  Jimmy has just come back from work and tells me that he saw a lifer being released this morning who had served over twenty years. He was accompanied by nine plastic bags and a double bed that he’d made in the workshop. But he has a problem. No one turned up to collect him, so they had to put him back in his cell overnight. Heaven knows what they did with the double bed.

  9.00 am

  Pottery. Say farewell to Anne, as I’m fairly sure I won’t be at Wayland this time next week. She promises to put my pot in the kiln, and then deliver it to Chris Beetles so that I can give it to Mary for Christmas.

  2.00 pm

  Rugby. I referee a match against an army team from Bassingbourne, which turns ugly in the last few minutes of the game. Shane (GBH and gym orderly) runs halfway down the pitch and thumps one of the visiting players. I realize I have no choice but to send him off. I blow my whistle and chase after him, but two officers run onto the field and drag him away before I can reach him. He’s immediately banned from participating in any sport for two weeks. The army team beat us by 25-10, which wasn’t too bad remembering that we played the second half with only fourteen players on the field. But then I was the referee.

  6.00 pm

  I start reading Twelfth Night. I would happily exchange my present abode for a willow cabin.

  DAY 85 - THURSDAY 11 OCTOBER 2001

  8.45 am

  Governor Carlton-Boyce tells me that there is no room for me at Spring Hill, so they are now considering North Sea Camp near Boston, in Lincolnshire. I point out that it would be a round trip from London of 240 miles, and I’d never be able to see my family. Carlton-Boyce doesn’t seem that interested and simply says, ‘I’m just doing my job, and that’s what I’m paid for.’

  9.15 am

  Mrs Wendy Sergeant (head of education) has heard that I’ll be leaving imminently and asks to interview me for her PhD thesis on ‘prison reform through education’. As I’ve only been in residence nine weeks, and she’s served the Prison Service for eleven years, I’m not sure I have a great deal to offer her, other than to confirm her worst fears.

  I tell her that I believe every prisoner should leave being able to read and write, and that the weekly pay for education ought to be at the same level as any job in the prison. In fact, I would go further and suggest that it would benefit society more if prisoners received a higher income for agreeing to participate in education, rather than cleaning their spur, or serving chips.

  Wendy tells me that she considers many people are unsuitable for prison and should not be mixing with hardened criminals. She will be suggesting in her thesis the use of halfway houses, especially as the prisons are equipped to handle only 62,500 inmates, with over 67,000 presently convicted.

  2.00 pm

  I call Mary to warn her that I’m probably being transferred to a prison over a hundred miles away from London. She tells me that Ramona, my solicitor, has tried to phone Wayland, but the governor is refusing to take her calls, which seems in line with her apparent policy of remaining anonymous.

  DAY 86 - FRIDAY 12 OCTOBER 2001

  9.00 am

  I turn up at the gym and wait for my little special needs group to arrive. It will be the last time I’ll work with them. Without warning, two drug officers appear by the side of the running machine and tell me that my name has come up on the computer for an MDT (Mandatory Drugs Test). Five names come up every day so I can’t complain if, after nine weeks, it’s my turn. I’m taken to the medical centre to join four other prisoners in a waiting room. Two look distinctly furtive, while the other two appear quite relaxed. When the officer puts his head round the door he asks if anyone is ready. Like a greyhound in the slips, I am through that gap before anyone else can reply.

  Mr Kelvin Cross introduces himself and then proceeds to read out my rights before asking me to sign a green form (see overleaf). I ask - for research purposes - what would happen if I refused to give a urine sample or sign the form.

  Twenty-eight days would automatically be added to your sentence.’

  I sign the form.

  I disappear into the lavatory while one of the officers watches me through a glass pane. After I have handed over my sample, I comment that there is no soap in the wash basin. Mr Cross explains that soap added to the urine sample would cloud it, and as a further test is not permitted again for another twenty-eight days, any drugs could have cleared themselves through your system. Can’t argue with that either. By the time they’ve finished with me it’s nearly eleven. I return to my cell and make notes on the MDT experience, only disappointed not to have been able to say goodbye to Alex, Robbie, Les and Paul.

  1.00 pm

  The news is full of riots in Pakistan, anthrax in New York and food parcels being dropped on the wrong villages in Afghanistan. I check my canteen list before spending the afternoon writing.

  DAY 87 - SATURDAY 13 OCTOBER 2001

  2.00 pm

  Visit. My son James and our mutual Kurdish friends Broosk and Nadhim have driven up from London to see me. The talk is mostly political, and they describe how it feels to live in London during the present crisis. Nadhim adds that he attended the Conservative Party conference in Blackpool (he’s a councillor for Wandsworth) and he couldn’t help comparing the gathering with his first conference in Brighton twenty years ago when Margaret Thatcher was the prime minister.

  ‘Same people,’ he tells me, ‘they’re just twenty years older.’ ‘You included,’ I remind him.

  Nadhim’s a great fan of IDS, but admits his conference speech wasn’t inspiring.

  James is still enjoying his new job in the City and takes me through a typical day. We then discuss my appeal which doesn’t now look as if it will be scheduled before the new year. The law grinds slowly…

  Broosk is full of news, having just landed two big contracts to decorate large homes in London and Nice. I first met these two young Kurds twelve years ago - ‘Bean Kurd’ and ‘Lemon Kurd’ - when they helped me organize the Simple Truth campaign, and they have remained friends ever since.

  8.00 pm

  After a few games of backgammon with Darren and Jimmy I return to my cell to be banged up for another fourteen hours. I’ve become hooked on Who Wants to be a Millionaire?. I would have failed to make more than PS2,000 this week because I didn’t know the name of the actor who plays the barman in EastEnders. However, I was able to answer the PS4,000 question, ‘Who is the current leader of the Conservative Party? a) Michael Howard, b) David Davis, c) Iain Duncan Smith, d) Kenneth Clarke.’ The father and son contestants picked David Davis. Hmm, I wonder if this is an omen or a prophecy?

  DAY 88 - SUNDAY 14 OCTOBER 2001

  11.00 am

  I’m called to the hospital wing to fill in some forms to confirm I’m fit to travel. When I return to the spur, Darren tells me it shows that I’m being transferred tomorrow. I find this hard to believe; surely Mr Carlton-Boyce would have warned me. I ask several officers, but as no one has informed them either, I assume Darren must be wrong.

  2.30 pm

  Exercise. I visit Shaun at his cell window, and talk through what work will be required for this diary just in case I am shipped out tomorrow: one watercolour of the prison, one pastel of a cell, plus drawings of Dale, Jimmy, Darren, Jules, Steve and Nigel. If I suddenly disappear, Shaun promises to deliver them to my agent just as soon as he’s released.

  DAY 89 - MONDAY 15 OCTOBER 2001

  8.15 am

  Mr Newson arrives outside my cell door to tell me that the Group 4 van has arrived and is waiting for me in the yard, they are ready to transfer me to North Sea Camp. He seemed surprised that I haven’t been warned, I dash upstairs to see Mr Tinkler in his office, who confirms the news, and adds that I must start packing immediately.

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  ‘You’ll be put on report and may have to s
tay here indefinitely, and not necessarily on the enhanced wing.’

  So much for my so-called ‘special treatment’, as regularly reported in the press.

  I try to say goodbye to as many inmates as possible - Darren, Jimmy, Dale, Nigel, Jason, Jules, Monster and Steve. Darren helps me pack my large plastic bag and then carries it down to the reception area for me. There are three other plastic bags awaiting me in reception. They are full of presents from the public - everything from Bibles to tea towels.

  I thank Darren for his kindness and help over the past nine weeks. He smiles, and offers one last piece of advice.