Strange the way things happen. Here's your correspondent with desperation to move to another prison at the top of his To Do list. Well, disregard for a moment the fact that I shouldn't be here. (The jury was misled and here I am.)
I'm trying to cope with the system as best I can. And because of good behaviour and doing the right courses, I am now recategorised as a C category candidate. That means I am entitled to go to a C Category prison. And moving into better accommodation is what I have been trying to do, as you'll know from my blogs.
It must count as almost a miracle, but I am writing to you suddenly from C Category quarters. And I'm writing with one arm longer than the other to prove the move.
What happened is that this very busy nick built a brand new wing and called it C Category and invited Yours Truly to lodge in a 'room' there. Hence the long arm as I staggered out of the block and along corridors and into the new building, G Wing, lugging five huge packages of all I own in the world.
I wonder how an estate agent would market my new home? I am lucky enough to have the luxury of a toilet moulded into the wall, removing the need for a lid, which of course is hardly a necessity for a man who cannot leave the room.
The same modern thinking no doubt brought the decision to do away with a cupboard door. Perhaps the thought is that it will encourage trust. Perhaps they believe that in a thieves kitchen everything is safe. I'm afraid I have news for them. If you - or they - see me with my arms spread wide blocking access to the cupboard, please don't be surprised.
Despite that stretched arm, I did feel pretty good when I had moved in lock and stock, if not barrel. I got everything - everything! - stowed away in about 35 seconds flat and sat down, adjusted the radio aerial for its new place in the dwelling, all ready for a relaxed cuppa. I went to pour a cup that cheers and somehow knocked over my brand new flask.
It exploded, shattering the innards into a zillion shards. The first broken vacuum in G wing, and even before I had the chance to display it in the doorless cupboard.
I can't claim for it the honour of being the first smashed flask of the only part of this busy, historic prison to be C Category because it's really only a pretend C-Cat. It needs the government to make a decree, and once they have us banged up, prisoners are not high on the politicians' priority list.
- Roger Gordon
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