Whispers from Hell

I've been holding my breath over the vital report by the Probation Service about whether I will be allowed to be a semi-human again by going to a D Category prison where one can go out to work and mingle with the population.

Like just about everything else, you have to wait an enormous time for anything to happen. Even saints don't possess the patience necessary for this life. ('Life' did I say?)

The probation officer from outside what's called the prison service arrived, and asked questions and spent time with me, and came to the conclusion that Yours Truly is perfectly safe to be allowed the slightly more relaxed life of D Category, open prison, status. She was very positive about recommending 'D' cat this time.

I had been worried that the inability of the prison to experiment with me on a 'town visit' might be another excuse to bar me from Category D. But she said it's not a prerequisite for the improved category. What a relief that piece of news was - probably as good for me as it would for the Prime Minister to hear that his parliamentary colleagues love him after all, and were just kidding before.

The officer's comments were really cheering, and one of the best bits of encouragement that's come my way since the life of Hell that has followed the jury's decision to throw me into prison and allow the fellow who murdered my wife to continue as if nothing happened.

Then came the probation person under the influence of the prison service - the 'inside probation officer.'

This one wasn't sure at all that Category D would do me. After all, she said, I should stay at a Category C prison before that step.

Naturally, I pointed out that I wasn't in a Category C prison only because my dear prison landlords built a C Category wing to save the trouble of sending people away to an actual C Category nick. As I have to keep saying - about everything to do with this nightmare - 'Not my fault.'

She'd have to confer with her manager, she said. Tut tut, really. Oh, dear. Frowns. She didn't know at all.

So Roger isn't the happy bunny he might be. You'd think that the prison would have made sure that a C-Category wing would be an acceptable alternative to going to a C Category prison. And if they did get that okay, which presumably they did, you might think they would pass the word onto Probation.

Before the lady left the cell, she asked about my health. 'My blood sugar levels are erratic, they range from 13.7 to 2.0.'

'You must follow your health plan,' she said. 'And it's important to avoid stress.'

I smiled, but not necessarily from her apparent concern. Avoid stress here? It'd be easier to avoid fire in Hell. The real Hell, I mean, rather than this overdone, over-realistic mock-up.
My sweet niece Collette had a birthday the other day. I was glad I could get her a nice card. All the world seems against you in here, all except family. Thank God they are there and in constant contact.
- Roger Gordon