6.00 pm
I call Will to confirm that he’s still planning to visit me on Friday. He tells me that DCS Perry is off sick and his deputy is unwilling to make a decision while he’s away. So much for justice. I begin to think that I’ll be in Wayland for the rest of my life.
DAY 70 - WEDNESDAY 26 SEPTEMBER 2001
9.00 am
Pottery. It’s Anne’s birthday. She’s amused by my flowerpot (we’ve all agreed now that it is to be thought of as a flowerpot) and says that it must be left to dry for two weeks before it can be placed in the kiln.
Another of the tutors has brought in a box of crayons for Shaun. When I leave the art room an hour later, I place the crayons in a plastic bag which, to my surprise, the officers don’t bother to look inside. I then walk out onto the exercise yard and, in front of several other officers, stroll across to the window of Shaun’s cell on C block and pass the crayons through the bars, dropping them on his bed. Only yesterday we were all searched for a knife. Today… prison logic. I admit I’m only smuggling crayons, but you would have thought someone might have just checked.
2.00 pm
No gym because it’s rugby practice. Mr Harley has selected a team of possibles v probables for the first match next week, which he asks me to referee.
The standard turns out to be far higher than I had expected. An Afro-Caribbean inmate picks up a ball that is passed to his toes at full speed and carves his way through a bunch of thugs and murderers to score a brilliant try under the posts. It augers well for next week.
When we return to the changing room the young man tells me that he’s never played the game before. How much talent is there in this country that we just don’t find out about, let alone nurture?
Another prisoner standing next to me in the shower is six foot nine, and was one of the second row forwards (surprise, surprise). He’s more interested in talking about my trial, which he describes as a diabolical liberty. As I never discuss my case with other inmates, I only listen.
‘I also got four years,’ he said, ‘for burglary - with five hundred and two, yeah, five hundred and two,’ he repeats, ‘other offences to be taken into consideration.’
DAY 71 - THURSDAY 27 SEPTEMBER 2001
8.00 am
Sergio will be leaving for Heathrow within the hour. We agree that I will call him next Tuesday at 7 pm GMT, two o’clock in Bogota. He tells me that there is at least PS7 left on his BT phonecard, which ought to be enough for him to let me know that he has arrived safely and put in my offer for the Boteros. Could I really get The Card Players for $400,000?
9.00 am
Pottery. Shaun spends two hours, with two ten-minute breaks, drawing Jules’s body - in a crouching position, and wearing his grey prison tracksuit. This is his best effort yet. He’ll add the head next week. He now has only Steve (conspiracy to murder, library orderly) and Jimmy (Ecstasy and captain of everything) left to draw. However, as Steve rarely leaves the library, Jimmy is out all day working on the farm and Shaun is due to be released in four weeks’ time, this may prove a close-run thing. I will not see the final montage until Shaun has presented his portfolio to my literary agent, Jonathan Lloyd.
3.30 pm
Exercise. As we circumnavigate the yard, Darren tells me about a prisoner who was transferred to Littlehey early this morning; the governor considered that his life might be in danger if he remained at Wayland. He had already been shipped out of Blunderstone Prison earlier this month when it was discovered that he was being beaten up on a regular basis.
‘When he arrived here’ Darren continues, ‘he claimed that he was in for punching a taxi driver, which few of us believed. It just didn’t add up,’ he added without further explanation. By now we’ve completed two circuits and I’m none the wiser as to what this is all about. But Darren is enjoying keeping me in suspense.
The unnamed prisoner lasted on C block for only a few days before they torched his cell, and set fire to all his belongings, so he was quickly moved to A block. But he lasted only one night before a delegation of prisoners paid a visit to the principal officer (Mr Tinkler), telling him that if the man was still on the block after the weekend, they could not be responsible for his safety. ‘What is he in for?’ I ask, unable to contain my curiosity. ‘Ah, I see I still have your attention,’ comments Darren, ‘even if I haven’t learnt to curtail your impatience.’ He pauses dramatically. ‘He has committed a crime for which his fellow prisoners would show no mercy.’ Darren covers a few more yards before he adds, ‘He kidnapped and raped a thirteen-year-old girl. So they’ve finally moved him to a prison where he will be safe, because he’ll only be locked up with other nonces.’
6.00 pm
George W. Bush’s first act of war is to sign an order freezing all accounts to which Osama bin Laden has access. It’s being reported on the evening news that Clinton attempted to do the same thing when he was president but couldn’t get Congress to back him.
Nothing worth watching on television, so I return to the works of Shakespeare. Tonight, King Lear. If only the Bard had experienced a few months in prison…
DAY 72 - FRIDAY 28 SEPTEMBER 2001
9.00 am
Gym. It’s my weekly session with the special needs group. I now have my own little class - Alex, Robbie, Les and Paul. We begin on the rower before moving across to the running machine, and this week I ask them all to try sit-ups. A new challenge. Alex and Robbie manage ten, while Les and Paul find it difficult to do more than five. But at least they now have a weekly target.
12 noon
Lunch looks disgusting, so I don’t bother. I have a visit today so I can supplement my diet from the canteen.
2.00 pm
Fortnightly visit. This Friday, my three visitors are my son Will and two of my dearest friends, Chris Beetles and Godfrey Barker. I’ve decided to allocate the first half hour to Will, followed by twenty minutes with Chris, then another twenty with Godfrey and then a final session with all three.
Will starts by telling me about a call he received during the journey to Wayland telling him that the KPMG accountants had just come out of a meeting with the police, and had left them in no doubt that I was never involved with the collecting or distribution of any Simple Truth money donated to the Red Cross. Will goes on to say that he can’t believe I’ll still be at Wayland this time next week.
Will’s next piece of news is that he has a new girlfriend, but as he’s returning to America on Thursday, he can’t be sure if it’s going anywhere. I’m disappointed. I can’t wait to be a grandfather. The rest of Will’s news is domestic, and after thirty minutes, he makes way for Chris.
Chris appears with a toasted cheese and tomato sandwich - quite the finest delicacy I’ve eaten for the past seventy days. I’m still not quite sure how he managed it.
I begin by briefing Chris on Shaun (forgery) and the sketches he’s working on for this diary. As Shaun will be released in three weeks’ time, I’ve asked him to visit Chris at the gallery and present his portfolio. Chris explains that there’s a recognized fee for the reproduction of an artist’s work, but if I want to purchase the originals, he will happily negotiate a fair price.
We go on to discuss Botero. Chris feels that as the great man has such an international following the chance of picking up a cheap original, even if Sergio does know Botero’s mother, seems unlikely. I accept his judgment, but still feel it’s possible Sergio might surprise us. Chris shrugs his shoulders. When he changes the subject to Tottenham Hotspur, I quickly replace him with Godfrey.
Godfrey brings me a second cheese and tomato sandwich, not toasted this time.
Godfrey is a distinguished art critic, academic and a friend of twenty years’ standing. We discuss an important matter concerning Mr Justice Potts and a dinner Godfrey and his wife Ann attended a couple of years ago, when the judge made remarks about me which, if true, I believe should have disqualifed him from presiding over my case. Godfrey needs to check his diaries before he can confirm the ex
act evening the supper took place, and the reasons why Sir Humphrey made the remarks he did. Godfrey promises to keep Mary informed. Ann Barker serves on the Parole Board, and another member of the Parole Board was also present at the dinner. Thank God for friends who believe in justice.
The final session spent with all three of them is great fun, not least because Will brings me another cheese and tomato sandwich. I didn’t have lunch, and now I needn’t bother with supper. Godfrey tells me that he believes IDS can win the next election. Chris pours scorn on the idea, and is happy to stake a Mars bar on Blair, who he believes has hardly put a foot wrong since September 11th.
‘Let’s see what he looks like in a year’s time,’ counters Godfrey.
I can only wonder where I’ll be in a year’s time…
The call for visitors to leave comes all too soon, and I am painfully reminded how much I enjoy the company of old friends.
When I leave to return to my cell, I am stopped and made to suffer the humiliation of a strip-search. Two junior officers obviously think it will be fun to tell their friends at the pub tonight that they made Lord Archer take all his clothes off. Good heavens, they discover I have a penis just like other inmates. It spoils what had been a better day. However, their pettiness is not typical of the majority of officers at Wayland.
6.00 pm
Jimmy is back from four days of home leave - this is allowed for non-parole prisoners who have served a third of their sentence. Jimmy’s sentence was three and a half years, mine four. Mr Justice Potts understood the difference only too well. Jimmy says he can’t wait to get a good night’s sleep. He’s had sex with two women in the past forty-eight hours; one stupid but sexy, the other an undergraduate who likes telling her friends she’s sleeping with a convict. He can’t decide which of them to commit to when he’s released in three weeks’ time. Darren offers him sage advice: If you can’t choose between them, neither can be right.’
10.00 pm
For the first time since September 11th the lead story on the Ten O’Clock News does not come from the other side of the Atlantic. It still involves terrorists, but this time the report comes from Northern Ireland. I wonder how long the problems of Osama bin Laden will remain paramount, as one can’t help remembering that Saddam Hussein is still on the loose…
I switch off the news, and continue my Shakespearean marathon by turning to Richard II.
DAY 73 - SATURDAY 29 SEPTEMBER 2001
9.00 am
Jimmy now wants to escape. He’s due to be released in three weeks’ time, but those four days on the outside have given him a taste for freedom. He has no intention of returning to jail. It was Jimmy’s first offence, and he swears it will be his last. I have come to admire the way the Prison Service, the probation officers and the parole board are able to assess which prisoners are likely to reoffend and which are not. They probably make mistakes, which will guarantee them unflattering headlines wishing they had chosen an easier profession. But let’s at least be thankful someone’s willing to do the job.
11.30 am
During exercise Darren tells me about a prisoner who’s been shipped out this morning at short notice. It seems that he was fast becoming the No. 1 drug dealer for the prison, and was happy to exchange his wares - cannabis, cocaine and heroin - for phonecards or tobacco. However, a problem arose because the drug baron on C block was only willing to supply his stock for cash, paid into a private bank account on the outside. Let me remind you how this works. Prisoners will instruct a friend or relative during visits (they consider the phone or letters too risky) to place money into an account of an associate of the prison drug dealer, who then supplies the gear.
When the drug baron on C block found his customers were moving their business to the new boy on B block because he didn’t require cash, something drastic needed to be done. Yesterday, while his rival was in the gym, he paid two other inmates (cleaners) on B block to torch his cell. Result, the prisoner whose cell was torched was immediately transferred to another gaol. This means that the drug baron on C block is able to continue his evil trade and will be released in a few weeks’ time supported by a healthy bank balance.
8.00 pm
There is rarely anything worth watching on TV on a Saturday night, so I finish off Richard II - or to be more accurate, an assassin finishes off the poor fellow. I last saw the play performed at the Barbican with Sam West in the title role. I had been looking forward to his Hamlet at Stratford, but it was not to be.
DAY 74 - SUNDAY 30 SEPTEMBER 2001
8.00 am
I call Mary to be told that the police are dropping their enquiry having not even bothered to interview me. Mary is thinking of writing to Baroness Nicholson and demanding an apology. I tell her it’s a waste of time as Nicholson has neither the grace nor the decency to admit she made a false accusation. Ms Nicholson is a wealthy woman. It would be a noble gesture on her part were she to cover KPMG’s costs, rather than leave the Red Cross to foot the bill.
Mary goes on to discuss a conversation she’s had with Godfrey. He assured her that he is aware of the importance of any affidavit he might sign, and the effect it would have on my appeal. She also confirms that she is flying to Washington on Thursday, and hopes that by the time she returns the following Tuesday, I will have been moved to an open prison.
10.30 am
Chapel. The prison has appointed a new chaplain. His name is Nick Tivey and, from his accent, I can only assume he hails from somewhere in the north of these islands. He looks around thirty, and tells me that he’s served in two parishes as a priest, before becoming a prison chaplain.
His sermon, or chat, to the inmates is very informal, and more effective for that. His theme is how Jesus despised the Pharaohs (bigwigs) and much preferred to mix with the sinners (us). Applause breaks out among his congregation of seventeen (nine black, eight white), which has doubled since I last attended chapel. He must be doing something right if it’s only his second week.
8.00 pm
I begin to read The Tempest and am reminded of John Wood’s consummate performance as Prospero at Stratford.
We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep
But not tonight, because Shane (GBH, gym orderly) has his TV full on while he watches the Sunday-night boxing. He likes to join in by offering his opinion on each bout, sometimes each punch, at the top of his voice. ‘Prick’ 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 ar
e 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.
A Prison Diary Purgatory (2003) Page 20
