A Prison Diary Purgatory (2003) Read online

  I kick him gently up the backside as an officer is passing in the opposite direction.

  ‘Did you see that, Mr Chapman? Archer is bullying me.’ ‘I’ll put him on report, and he’ll be back in Belmarsh by the end of the week,’ Mr Chapman promises.

  We laugh as we continue on the perimeter circuit. However, I point out how easy it is to make an accusation, and how long it takes to refute it. It’s been a month since Emma Nicholson appeared on Newsnight insinuating that I had stolen money intended for the Kurds, and it will probably be another month before the police confirm there is no case to answer.

  ‘But just think about that for a minute, Jeffrey. If it hadn’t been for that bitch Nicholson, you would never have met Jimmy and me, who have not only added greatly to your knowledge of prison life, but enabled a further volume to be written.’

  7.30 pm

  One of the officers says there’s a package for me in the office. I’m puzzled as I’ve already had my mail for today, and registered letters are always opened in front of two officers, around eleven each morning. When I walk in, he makes a point of closing the office door before he hands over a copy of Alan Clark’s Diaries, a pad and a book of stamps. Someone else who considers the regulations damned stupid.

  He goes on to say that my wife will be searched when she visits the prison tomorrow. We’re all embarrassed about it,’ he adds, ‘but it will be no worse than at an airport. But perhaps it might be wise to let her know. By the way, the press are still hanging about hoping to catch her when she arrives.’ I thank him and leave.

  8.00 pm

  I read a few pages of the Clark Diaries, which I enjoy every bit as much a second time. I also enjoyed Alan’s company, and will never forget a dinner party he gave at Saltwood just before the general election in 1997. Alan posed the question to his guests, ‘What do you think the majority will be at the next election?’ Most of the assembled gathering thought Labour would win by over a hundred. The only dissenter was Michael Howard, who was Home Secretary at the time. He put up a bold defence of John Major’s administration, and told his fellow guests that he felt it was still possible for the Conservatives to win the next election. Alan told him that if he really believed that, he was living in cloud cuckoo land. I don’t know to this day if Michael was simply being loyal to the prime minister. Although I can tell you that, like John Major, he is one of those people who doesn’t cross over to the other side of the road when you’re in trouble.

  10.00 pm

  Suddenly feel very hungry - eat a bowl of cornflakes and a Mars bar. Check my clothes - still not dry. I don’t bother with another of John Mortimer’s great trials. Feel I have enough murderers surrounding me without having to read about them.

  DAY 30 - FRIDAY 17 AUGUST 2001

  6.09 am

  The first thing I notice when I wake is that my Mach3 razor has disappeared. The wash basin is next to the door. In future, after I’ve shaved, I’ll have to hide it in my cupboard. It would have to be stolen on the day Mary is visiting me; I want to be clean shaven but I don’t want to cut myself to ribbons with a prison razor. It also reminds me that, because I hadn’t expected to be convicted, I’ve been wearing my Longines watch for the past month, and I must hand it over to my son during the visit this afternoon.

  8.15 am

  Breakfast. Before I go down to the hotplate, I extract a letter from yesterday’s mail that is in Spanish. Dale has told me that one of the servers on the hotplate hails from Colombia, so he should be able to translate it for me. His name is Sergio, and he usually stands quietly on the end of the line, handing out the fruit. I pass the missive across to him, and ask if we could meet later. He nods, and hands me a banana in return.

  9.00 am

  Today’s induction is education, once again held in the room with the comfy chairs. For the first time the other prisoners show some interest. Why? Because this is how they’ll earn their weekly wage. The head of education introduces herself as Wendy. She must be in her fifties, has curly grey hair, wears a flowery blouse, white skirt and sensible shoes. She has the air of a headmistress. Wendy wheels a little projector up to the front, and begins a slide show. Using the white brick wall as a backdrop, she shows us what her department has to offer. The first slide reveals five options:

  Basic skills

  English as an additional language

  Social and life skills

  Business skills

  Art, craft and design

  ‘Education,’ Wendy points out, ‘is part-time (one session a day), so you can only earn seven pounds thirty-five per week.’ The other prisoners don’t take a great deal of interest in this slide, but immediately perk up when the second chart flashes on to the wall. VT and CIT training courses:

  Bricklaying

  Plumbing

  Electrical installation

  Painting and decorating

  Welding

  Motor mechanics

  Light vehicle body repair

  Industrial cleaning

  Computer application

  The weekly pay for any one of these courses is also PS7.35, but does give you a basic training for when you return to the outside world.

  When the final slide comes up, most of the inmates begin licking their collective lips, because this offers not only real earning power, but a position of responsibility plus perks. The extra money guarantees a more substantial canteen list each week (extra tobacco) and even the opportunity to save something for when you are released. The slide reveals:

  Plastic recycling PS10.15 per week

  Ration packing PS9.35

  Gardening (one of the most sought-after jobs, with a long waiting list) PS9.00

  General cleaner PS6.70

  Works PS8.50

  Kitchen PS8.50

  Stores (very popular, longer waiting list than the MCC) PS10.00

  Chapel PS8.00

  Drug rehabilitation unit PS6.70

  Before she can turn back to face her audience, the questions come thick and fast. Wendy points out that most of these jobs already have waiting lists, even washing-up, as there are far more prisoners than jobs. Wendy handles the questions sympathetically, without giving anyone false hopes of being offered one of these more remunerative positions.

  Her final task is to hand round more forms to be filled in. My fellow inmates grab them, and then take some time considering their options. I put a cross next to ‘pottery’ in the education box, but add that I would be happy to do a creative writing course, or teach other prisoners to read and write. Wendy has already pointed out that the education department is understaffed. However, she tells me that such an initiative would require the governor’s approval, and she’ll get back to me. I return to my cell.

  11.00 am

  I report to the gym to assist with the special needs group. They are about thirty in number, and I’ve been put in charge of four of them: Alex, Robbie, Les and Paul. Three head straight for the rowing machines, while Alex places himself firmly on the treadmill. He sets off at one mile an hour and, with coaxing and patience (something I don’t have in abundance), he manages two miles an hour. I have rarely seen such delight on a competitor’s face. This, for Alex, is his Olympic gold medal. I then suggest he moves on to the step machine while I try to tempt Paul off the rower and onto the running machine. I have to give him several demonstrations as to how it works before he’ll even venture on, and when he finally does, we start him off at half a mile an hour. By using sign language - hands waving up and down - we increase his speed to one mile an hour, I next try to show him how to use the plus and minus buttons. He conquers this new skill by the time he’s walked half a mile. While I teach him how to operate the machine, he teaches me to be patient. By the time he’s done a mile, Paul has mastered the technique completely, and feels like a king. I feel pretty good too.

  I look around the room and observe the other prisoners - murderers, drug barons, armed robbers and burglars, gaining just as much from the experience as their char