How busy this prison is becoming. Of course, it might be nationwide. We never know what's going on in other clinks.
I get to see the change better than most because I'm in charge of the library induction presentation for all people who arrive, you know, telling them what's on offer in the library, and the opening times, and the dire consequences of not returning the books on time.
So I can reveal that we have had 130 new inmates in the last six weeks!
The telling thing about this figure is that, as well as we can tell, nearly all prisons are full to the brim. So, with a little simple maths, if 130 have arrived then 130 must have left, unless captives are expected by the new coilition to sleep on top of one another.
So it seems, there may well be movement at the gate that leads to home.
Perhaps not all are going home. I've heard that a lot are moving to open prisons.
How is this movement being interpreted inside? People are saying that common sense seems to be prevailing. Common sense is getting a look in, at last, after all the draconian management of sentence planning we've all had to endure.
I know I still have some way to go - they're not interested that I didn't do it. However, the buzz of optimism gives me hope of actually being released on time, an event that up to the present has been about as rare as feathers on a lamb.
Neighbour Fred has been waiting six weeks to learn if the Home Office is going to fulfil the promise that he can now go to open prison. He was told it might even be parole.
When the chance comes along of being a human and a man again, six weeks can be a very long time indeed.
He seems to be handling the stress well. At least, he does when we chat outside his cell. But behind the cell door, waiting, waiting, waiting can be incredibly punishing.
I really hope he gets his chance to live again. He is a good fellow and society will be better off with him out there.
He'll be missed in here. He's been a really supportive mate, especially in the early days here of settling into this very weird environment. Roger's story is on his website, here.
Sunday 31 October 2010
My 30-year visit to the dentist
What a pleasure to be visited by sister Helen and James and Lyn. If there's anything to be gained from this madness of prison, it's appreciation of family.
The noise - the uproar - of the visiting hall makes hard work of talking. It was a big change from when I last saw them, Family Day, when we could walk about and talk with ease.
Hard on the ears and tough on the voice, but I wouldn't have missed it for anything.
When something realy pleasant happens in here, you know you are going to have to pay for it. Fate is extra tough on captives.
Three days later and I was facing the doctor, pointing to an enormous pain in my head. I wondered if it might have come from the shouted conversation with family.
'It's your teeth,' he said. I felt the blood drain from around the area of pain, revealing my greatest.
'Oh, no,' I murmured. 'Give me the plague, pig flu, anything, but don't send me to the dentist.'
'Fate's on your side then,' he said. 'The waiting time's about 16 weeks.'
Your correspondent did feel relieved at that, even if the pain remained. But somehow I knew Fate wouldn't stay so kind. An appointment card was slipped under the cell door. I was being honoured with special treatment. I could see the dentist in three days.
People here say he is very good. I hope they are right. I've managed to avoid the dentist for 30 years. But in here, there's no avoiding anything unpleasant, so I will be there in the chair in three days, but probably not very bravely.
Roger's story is on his website, here.
The noise - the uproar - of the visiting hall makes hard work of talking. It was a big change from when I last saw them, Family Day, when we could walk about and talk with ease.
Hard on the ears and tough on the voice, but I wouldn't have missed it for anything.
When something realy pleasant happens in here, you know you are going to have to pay for it. Fate is extra tough on captives.
Three days later and I was facing the doctor, pointing to an enormous pain in my head. I wondered if it might have come from the shouted conversation with family.
'It's your teeth,' he said. I felt the blood drain from around the area of pain, revealing my greatest.
'Oh, no,' I murmured. 'Give me the plague, pig flu, anything, but don't send me to the dentist.'
'Fate's on your side then,' he said. 'The waiting time's about 16 weeks.'
Your correspondent did feel relieved at that, even if the pain remained. But somehow I knew Fate wouldn't stay so kind. An appointment card was slipped under the cell door. I was being honoured with special treatment. I could see the dentist in three days.
People here say he is very good. I hope they are right. I've managed to avoid the dentist for 30 years. But in here, there's no avoiding anything unpleasant, so I will be there in the chair in three days, but probably not very bravely.
Roger's story is on his website, here.
Tuesday 19 October 2010
Ever visited anyone in prison?
On Saturday my brother James his partner Lyn and I entered the reception building of the prison. We had our papers checked by two friendly officers, who marked the back of our hands with a ultra violet stamp. Then we were then issued with a numbered card.
We packed our belongings into a locker because you are not permitted to take anything into the main prison.
We were ready for some refreshments after the long drive. There was a small café, well stocked and with reasonable prices.
I was quite surprised to see garden produce for sale on a table nearby. There were large marrows and a variety of chillies among other fresh greens. How odd and I was about to ask about it when our number was called and we were escorted to the main prison building. Our papers were checked again. We had to walk through a scanner as if we were in an airport, but like the residents here, we were going nowhere.
The visiting is held in a large hall. A well equipped crèche and a small café were close by.
The rest of the hall was furnished with sets of four chairs round small circular coffee tables, joined together and so permantly bolted to the floor that I presumed the designers were determined not to make a thieves' kitchen of the place.
A door at the far end opened, and there was Roger in blue jeans, a fresh blue and white pin striped shirt, looking relaxed despite all he has been through. His beard was smartly trimmed. He looked thinner than he used to be, but pretty well considering his long, long struggle to get the injustice recognised.
We were ready for a good chat, but the hall filled rapidly with prisoners and visitors until it was packed. The result was an enormous hubbub. In fact, the noise was deafening, so it was more a good shout we had than the desited talk.
There we were crowded round that odd table, very close together as if we were plotters whispering secret plans. However, the heads might have been about as close as you could get, but we had to holler to be heard.
Somehow, despite the uproar, we managed to pass on the family news. Roger wanted to know, of course, about our disabled brother and sister.
I was thinking of the church bazaar table at Reception. Was it to raise funds for a struggling jail, or perhaps to line the pockets of a gardening prison governor?
It turned out to be much more innocent, if I heard Roger's shout correctly.
Some of the prisoners are passionate about gardening and the produce came from their hard work in the grounds.
James asked Roger if he was one of the green-fingered people, because he wasn't famous for such domestic pursuits before his ill-luck.
'We've got some great gardeners here,' Roger shouted, and shook his head. 'But it's not for me. I leave the botanics to Nature.'
I'm a vegetarian so I was interested to know if a meat-free diet was possible here. I supposed the meals weren't far removed from gruel, whatever gruel is. When I've read prison scenes in Dickens, I somehow imagined it might have been made from things like the ingredients for glue - hooves and melted horns, spiced perhaps with intestinal bits.
But Roger said it's all a stage better than that, and if a man is a vegetarian, he can have meatless meals. Even vegans are catered for, as long as they belong to a vegan society.
I wanted to ask my brother if he had seen the light and chose vegetables only. However, from the way he spoke - shouted - about meals without meat, I gathered he still loves his roast beef, or whatever passes for it here.
James said, 'What's new, Roge?'
'I've got one of the new digital radios. It's a marvel. My old one broke ages ago, and I am a radio man. It's really good to be connected to the Beeb radio stations again ... and in hissless digital.'
I won't say it's easy to get used to a shouted conversation, but all too soon a uniform managed to get his voice over the top of all the talk. It was the end.
Back in reception, a small crowd surrounded the gardening stall and we took a marrow home. It was a quiet drive. My head swam with echoes of the row in the hall, but we were mostly silent because it was so sad to leave Roger and the appalling miscarriage of justice that keeps an innocent man locked away in prison. Roger's story is here.
- Helen Whiteman
We packed our belongings into a locker because you are not permitted to take anything into the main prison.
We were ready for some refreshments after the long drive. There was a small café, well stocked and with reasonable prices.
I was quite surprised to see garden produce for sale on a table nearby. There were large marrows and a variety of chillies among other fresh greens. How odd and I was about to ask about it when our number was called and we were escorted to the main prison building. Our papers were checked again. We had to walk through a scanner as if we were in an airport, but like the residents here, we were going nowhere.
The visiting is held in a large hall. A well equipped crèche and a small café were close by.
The rest of the hall was furnished with sets of four chairs round small circular coffee tables, joined together and so permantly bolted to the floor that I presumed the designers were determined not to make a thieves' kitchen of the place.
A door at the far end opened, and there was Roger in blue jeans, a fresh blue and white pin striped shirt, looking relaxed despite all he has been through. His beard was smartly trimmed. He looked thinner than he used to be, but pretty well considering his long, long struggle to get the injustice recognised.
We were ready for a good chat, but the hall filled rapidly with prisoners and visitors until it was packed. The result was an enormous hubbub. In fact, the noise was deafening, so it was more a good shout we had than the desited talk.
There we were crowded round that odd table, very close together as if we were plotters whispering secret plans. However, the heads might have been about as close as you could get, but we had to holler to be heard.
Somehow, despite the uproar, we managed to pass on the family news. Roger wanted to know, of course, about our disabled brother and sister.
I was thinking of the church bazaar table at Reception. Was it to raise funds for a struggling jail, or perhaps to line the pockets of a gardening prison governor?
It turned out to be much more innocent, if I heard Roger's shout correctly.
Some of the prisoners are passionate about gardening and the produce came from their hard work in the grounds.
James asked Roger if he was one of the green-fingered people, because he wasn't famous for such domestic pursuits before his ill-luck.
'We've got some great gardeners here,' Roger shouted, and shook his head. 'But it's not for me. I leave the botanics to Nature.'
I'm a vegetarian so I was interested to know if a meat-free diet was possible here. I supposed the meals weren't far removed from gruel, whatever gruel is. When I've read prison scenes in Dickens, I somehow imagined it might have been made from things like the ingredients for glue - hooves and melted horns, spiced perhaps with intestinal bits.
But Roger said it's all a stage better than that, and if a man is a vegetarian, he can have meatless meals. Even vegans are catered for, as long as they belong to a vegan society.
I wanted to ask my brother if he had seen the light and chose vegetables only. However, from the way he spoke - shouted - about meals without meat, I gathered he still loves his roast beef, or whatever passes for it here.
James said, 'What's new, Roge?'
'I've got one of the new digital radios. It's a marvel. My old one broke ages ago, and I am a radio man. It's really good to be connected to the Beeb radio stations again ... and in hissless digital.'
I won't say it's easy to get used to a shouted conversation, but all too soon a uniform managed to get his voice over the top of all the talk. It was the end.
Back in reception, a small crowd surrounded the gardening stall and we took a marrow home. It was a quiet drive. My head swam with echoes of the row in the hall, but we were mostly silent because it was so sad to leave Roger and the appalling miscarriage of justice that keeps an innocent man locked away in prison. Roger's story is here.
- Helen Whiteman
Friday 8 October 2010
Roger gets a visit
Three of us visited Roger on a cold damp day - Roger's sister, Helen, his brother James, and me. I'm James's partner.
This was my first visit to a prison. It's not something you ever get used especially when you know they have been wrongly convicted.
We began at a reception room, quite small, noisy, and strangely enough considering the way these place break up families, there were a few toys on display, and high chairs and baby bouncers.
To get the full two hour visit, you need to get booked in approximately an hour before the visiting time, so we were there early, of course. Two prison officers who booked us, pleasant and helpful, gave us a number as if we were at Argos, and like waiting for your purchases there, we have to wait for the number to be called.
Then we went into the prison and through some security checks as if we were taking part in some jail movie.
We were led into a big bright room than didn't look very much like a clink, except for a plentiful number of watchful cameras and uniforms. It seemed strange to see a big children's play area to one side.
I suppose there must have been at least 40 tables tables like breakfast nooks, with four seats attached. Each table had a bright orange as if they might have come from some sea rescue. The day-glow seat was for Roger.
There might have been more than 150 people visiting. The noise made it seem that there were twice as many. As you might expect, it was really hard to hear what Roger was saying, even to hear ourselves.
At times, the tumult was overpowering, in fact so much so that we had to keep leaning forward, straining to keep up with what each said.
I'm glad to say that although he had every reason to be the opposite, he seemed quite up beat. But he is a thoughtful fellow, so he might have been wearing a brave face for our benefit.
We left the room looking forward to seeing Roger again.
At the end, dealing with the crowd and the formalities and getting back to Reception, where all our things were kept, was quite a struggle - but nothing like the difficulties there has been to get our innocent prisoner out.
We walked away with lots mixed feelings, but very happy we had our freedom. Hopefully, it won't be that very much longer before Roger gets his. Correcting the mistake of a misled jury is long overdue. Roger's story is on his website, here. - Lyn Bear
This was my first visit to a prison. It's not something you ever get used especially when you know they have been wrongly convicted.
We began at a reception room, quite small, noisy, and strangely enough considering the way these place break up families, there were a few toys on display, and high chairs and baby bouncers.
To get the full two hour visit, you need to get booked in approximately an hour before the visiting time, so we were there early, of course. Two prison officers who booked us, pleasant and helpful, gave us a number as if we were at Argos, and like waiting for your purchases there, we have to wait for the number to be called.
Then we went into the prison and through some security checks as if we were taking part in some jail movie.
We were led into a big bright room than didn't look very much like a clink, except for a plentiful number of watchful cameras and uniforms. It seemed strange to see a big children's play area to one side.
I suppose there must have been at least 40 tables tables like breakfast nooks, with four seats attached. Each table had a bright orange as if they might have come from some sea rescue. The day-glow seat was for Roger.
There might have been more than 150 people visiting. The noise made it seem that there were twice as many. As you might expect, it was really hard to hear what Roger was saying, even to hear ourselves.
At times, the tumult was overpowering, in fact so much so that we had to keep leaning forward, straining to keep up with what each said.
I'm glad to say that although he had every reason to be the opposite, he seemed quite up beat. But he is a thoughtful fellow, so he might have been wearing a brave face for our benefit.
We left the room looking forward to seeing Roger again.
At the end, dealing with the crowd and the formalities and getting back to Reception, where all our things were kept, was quite a struggle - but nothing like the difficulties there has been to get our innocent prisoner out.
We walked away with lots mixed feelings, but very happy we had our freedom. Hopefully, it won't be that very much longer before Roger gets his. Correcting the mistake of a misled jury is long overdue. Roger's story is on his website, here. - Lyn Bear
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