10 September

ALFRED - 10 Sept 05.

Saturdays’ and Sundays' routines are different from the weekdays. The most notable thing, looking back, is that there is less association, and bang- up is almost all day. However, visiting time was at 9.am. So while having breakfast, the yell went up "Visits!” When I understood that, down I went "ones", and was touch searched, and let into the outer hall. When the officer was told on his radio that all the staff were in position at all points, we were let out to join all those inmates from other wings going to the visitors hall. The waiting room was crowded, and many inmates from other wings made themselves known to me, and congratulated me. The black inmates were the most expressive, and we exchanged right knuckles. Then one by one we were processed through the inspection centre. Hands out stretched, mouths opened, and inspected. Shoes off, and hands patted all over. Then shoes on, and a walk down the corridor to the hall. We then handed in our Identity Cards, and were given a letter, (a,b,c,etc.) and number, and had to find that position, and sit and wait until our visitor came. Notices gave orders that the inmates were to sit with their legs under the table top, and hands resting on top.
It was wonderful to see Una come into hall; tears came into my eyes. I stood up and we hugged each other, and then she sat opposite me. As I only had time to collect my toast, and had not time to eat any of it, Una went to the refreshment counter, and we had coffee, and biscuits, and talked. She had been so busy, with telephone calls, press, and media. And she had to leave home to get to Woodhill by 8.30 a.m.
She looked tired. She told me it was all go, and ended up writing her daily letter to the Prime minister, as well as her diary, late at night. But what a wonderful thing a visit is! to be with the one you love, and to hear about the family and what is going on in our real world. Then the visitors were called to go, and as they did. We sat tight, until our row was called to collect our ID cards, and to go through the inspection routine, and the waiting room, and back to our wings.
The question of "association" was raised, but an officer had said if it was not raining we might get "exercise" in the yard, but if it was we would not get any "association" as there was a staff shortage. It did rain, and we remained banged up.
After supper, a Senior Prison Officer, Mr. Bell, called me to his office, and said my wife had phoned, offering to pay the Fine, in exchange for my release. I thought this could not be possible, unless there was an unforeseen emergency. We had not mentioned anything about this during the visit. So I rang her from his office, and explained. No, she had not made the offer, and I handed the phone to Mr. Bell. So someone, maybe a member of the press or a prankster had made the call, in the first place. While I was still in his office, Mr. Bell said he was going to keep me on this wing for the whole 28 days. He would talk to the governor on Monday.
I must refer to strip searches. Apparently one in ten of those who have visitors, have to submit to a strip search. Having being through one, on arrival, I loathed them as so demeaning.
I had another 31 letters and cards. My washed clothes had been returned, but not ironed, of course.
It would be an evening of TV. But we have to consult and agree which programmes we will watch. It is easier than at home sometimes, as we did not choose each other’s company. So it was give and take. Tony and I got on well, considering I was in my 70s and he in his 20s






UNA - SEPTEMBER 10TH 2005

At 7.30 a.m. I set off to visit Alfred for the first time on my own. I imagined that if I could arrive by 8,15 a.m. it would be possible to move from Reception to the Waiting Area easily. At weekends visiting hours were earlier and shorter. I learned that this gave the Warders more family time.
When I arrived at 8.15 a.m. the doors to Reception were locked. Disappointed I stood shivering in the cold, bright morning and chatted to the only person around - a Jamaican Prison Warder waiting to go on duty. In his quiet pleasant voice he voiced his opinion that there were many money-grabbing areas in the country as well as the Council Tax system. Too many politicians earned vast amounts without showing care in producing decent policies.
At 8.30 p.m. the doors were unlocked. My ticket number was 1. By 9 a.m. I was sitting in front of Alfred. The checking through procedure had gone smoothly with everyone pleasant and smiling despite the anxieties we, as visitors, were feeling.

Alfred was emotional again when he saw me. I am unused to seeing this man showing his feeling so clearly. It was a time of unusual events for us. After a big hug we holding on to each other across the wooden barrier with firm hands.
He told me he was strip searched yesterday. He has learned that all prisoners are searched after their visitors have left and one in ten are strip-searched. After all this is a Category A, High Security Prison and the procedure is strict, and degrading to a private person such as Alfred.
Halfway through the visit I remembered that he might like a drink and something to eat. I just hated to leave him to queue up at the shop because it was time out from the small amount of visiting time: only 50 minutes on Saturdays instead of 75 minutes on weekdays.
While he tucked into sandwiches and drank the coffee I tried to remember as many people I could who had sent messages. Warders patrolled slowly up and all the time and touched the tables firmly if hands disappeared beneath, but they were not acting officiously. Their presence was felt though. It occurred to me that we needed to feel police presence in this way for a securer hold in our communities.
Later when we waiting for doors to be unlocked, after our visits were over, I felt the sharp contrast of being able to move freely in the outside world and how freedom just did not exist where Alfred was confined. This made me realise how much I took freedom for granted.
I talked to a young woman who told me she visited weekly. Alfred is allowed visits every day. She writes to her man, telling the good and the bad news in her life. She obviously includes him in everything, nothing held back. She knew how to have an honest relationship. She told me the guy's mother always blamed others for her son's mistakes, which did nothing to help him develop a sense of his own responsibility.
It was 11am. When I back into our home straight into the interview with the Observer reporter. Her article would appear the following Sunday under the section entitled "Greynotes."
After this I felt tired, pulled in all directions. I had bought a copy of the Daily Mail to read the interview that Christian Gyson had written. It read very well as a main feature. There was a fierce faced inset of me glaring away - not a good idea to show impatience with the cameras. Anne phoned me to tell me about it.
Joel left quietly to chef at a wedding reception so I had the opportunity of catching up with jobs about the house.

Upstairs I began to sort out the bedrooms when the phone rang. Alfred was asking me a question that I never thought possible to hear. He was asking me if I had paid the debt! " You know I would not do that," I told him. "Would you repeat that to the Warder standing next to me?" he asked. I did so and asked the Warder, who thankfully sounded in good spirits, to tell Alfred a joke immediately after this call to steady him because his anxiety was very apparent in his voice. "I hear the tremor in his voice," I said. "And say that I'm a rotten old bag and would certainly not bail him out! " The Warder laughed. He told me that someone imitating me had phoned the Prison to say that if someone would come to the Prison entrance she had the money to pay off the debt to release Alfred.
What a shock this must have been to Alfred. I nearly had not picked up the phone. I thought it might be wise to let calls alone for a while knowing the answer phone would record necessary news.
I decided that this was really unwise in case of emergences, as this latest call had proved.
The rest of the afternoon was spent sorting out the 400 word article for the Church of England Newspaper. The deadline was 5.30 p.m. when Christine was taking down my effort in shorthand to pair with hers to send off as an E - mail to the paper.
While I was in full flow, I wrote a letter to Caroline Spelman, Shadow Minister for Local Government and the Environment. We had met at Westminster when we were part of a delegation with Isitfair discussing the urgency for Council Tax reform. I wanted to remind her that Alfred had gone to Prison despite her belief that such a thing would never happen. She either did not know the Law or, as Alfred believed, politicians do not live in the real world.
Linked with the real world was the fact that it was raining at Lords. Christian had text Joel to say so.
Rain reminded me of water that reminded me that it was time to set the washing machine to work. What ever happens we still need clean clothes.

Later a gentleman phoned me from Lancashire offering support. I certainly could do with some. He really wanted to write to Alfred and needed his address. I gave him Christine's address too. He had never heard of Isitfair. He told me that he works for the National Pensioners' Convention and knows many people who are afraid to protest in case they had their Benefits and other payments taken away from them. This was dreadful news to know that people live in such fear.

Anne phoned too. She was pleased about a better deal she had made for using her mobile phone. She went on to say that Jake, our seven year old Grandson, was not very happy that his Granddad was in Prison. This was understandable and serious. When I spoke to Jake, he told me that he was worried about Grandad. I explained that Grandad felt safe with the Prisoners. They were friendly towards him. Then I reminded both of us that there were only 24 more days to go before he was home. Perhaps he would practise some roly-polys for Grandad right now, straightaway? He laughed and said he would.
Action of some sort does ease a situation. I hope it helped Jake a bit.
I told Anne about the Prison visitor I had met today and how she wrote about the good and bad days to her man. I suggested she could do the same if she wished with her Dad, but her instant response was, " I don't do feelings. " Maybe she might change her mind.

Joel phoned in. The wedding crowd had been good. He reminded me he was off to join a Wake for a guy he had known who had been killed in a motor-bike accident in Australia. If there was space on the floor he would stay over and return tomorrow.

I decided to put my feet up. My ankles had swelled badly but were soon forgotten when I caught part of the Proms on TV. This was certainly a good way to end the day, and say " God bless Alfred! "