18 September

ALFRED - SUNDAY. 18TH. SEPTEMBER.

Sunday has yet another routine. It starts with toast and teabags, as usual, but a little later I managed to collect the disposable razor, actually two, as sometimes the one is very blunt or becomes blunt, and leaves the face very sore.
I waited for the call for those going to 'church' but it never came. Later a lady prison officer apologised, saying she forgot. But one of the inmates suggested it could be a case of bloody mindedness because she was on duty. I do not know. But I was really disappointed, as I had found that last week I had been quite uplifted at the service. We had remained 'banged up' instead of a pleasant walk across the ' park' and the fellowship and comradely mixing with those inmates from other wings.

Brunch was at about 11.30am. It was a fry up with baked beans, egg, and what I believe was beef, and fried mashed potatoes. I wonder which days potatoes was being reserved. There is a good atmosphere at the servery. The prisoners who do the serving are usually cheerful and friendly and seem to be generous. I have to be polite and ask for small servings. One could go back to the cell carrying a mountain on the plate. Another trouble with eating in the cell is that one has to wash up in the hand basin, and use toilet paper to dry the plates and cutlery.
I was nervously waiting for Joel to enter the Visitors' Hall, with my eyes on the doorway. As soon as he appeared, I stood up and waved to him, we hugged each other before he sat opposite me. There is a notice on a nearby pillar, which commands prisoners to remain seated at all times, with legs under the shelf, and hands on top. Never have I seen a warder insist on it on either the approach or departure of the visitor. It was so good to see him, and I believe I asked him if it embarrassed him to visit me here in prison. He did not think why it should. We talk for the whole visit; about his work and what it was like in prison. I thanked him for helping his mother during this time, and for making the arrangements with the media. The time passed very swiftly. He seemed so much more positive than when he came home from South America in April.
On returning to the wing, it was still 'association' and I had a longed for shower. There were one or two people there. Some kept their shorts on, but having been in a boarding school where we all had to have cold showers in the morning or had a bathroom with six baths either side of the room, and shared shower facilities during basic training in National Service, it was clothes off with soap in the hand and straight to the shower. There is a problem, as there is in the swimming pool changing room at the local leisure centre; one has to keep one's hand on the push tap all the time. How good it felt to be clean all over again. Now all I want is my change of clothes. But I had been to the store room, and collected a change of prison clothes and boxer shorts.
It was then 'bang up' until supper at about 6.0pm, I think. Then 'bang up' again for the rest of the day with Sunday TV.1 but I did see Una being interviewed in our garden, the day before.




UNA - SEPTEMBER 18TH 2005

I surfaced at 3a.m. and decided that a cup of tea was an answer to this wake up state. I wondered if Alfred was also awake. Sleep did take over soon afterwards and I knew no more until sevenish.
On Sundays Waitrose's opened at 10 a.m. when the Sunday papers were on offer. I filled the time beforehand toning up my muscles by turning the mattress, a heaving job we usually do together on a monthly basis. This solo effort was an awkward exercise but I did it.
I got my breath back by writing a few letters including paying Alfred's bills for petrol and the ever promising firm of Readers' Digest.
These were posted when I bought the papers: Sunday Times, Mail on Sunday and the Observer. It is amazing how much is enclosed inside their pages in the way of extra and mostly unwanted paperwork. The only article relevant to us this week was in the Observer's Financial section under Grey Matters, in an article written by Neesa Maclean. It kept our stance alive and kicking.
Neesa had written a full-page article with one of the two coloured photos of Alfred and me picked up by the Observer courier, the background of the Eden Project suitably replaced by an iron staircases belonging to a prison interior.
Her article announces that Sylvia Hardy expects to be sent to a Women’s' Prison at Eastwood Park in Gloucestershire.
Neesa quotes Mervyn Kohler of Help the Aged who describes Alfred's sentence in this way: " As a political statement, this is very powerful and must help people make up their minds. We have got to find a more satisfactory system than the current one as there will always be a gulf between council tax increases and the rises in state pensions. "

Our lunch of eggs and bacon was early so that Joel could be off to visit his Dad at 2p.m. To be on time he left at 12.30 p.m. It was 10 days ago since he had seen him. He particularly wanted to go on his own.
I used the time to clean upstairs. It did not help me to sit the hours away.
The garden was a good place to be in too. Tidying and watering satisfied me while my thoughts were with Alfred, Joel, Anne and Jake.

Joel's only piece of news that he shared with me later was that his Dad thought a break in York might be a good idea after he came out of Prison. He did add that the reason he did not phone was down to the lack of money for the phone card operation. Perhaps he would manage a letter before Thursday, my next visiting day.

Things perked up a little with a phone call from Helen Callaghan, an ITN Correspondent working for ITV Wales and the West of England. She gave me the details of Sylvia Hardy's visit to Alfred next Tuesday. I understood she was being driven from Devon where she lived, accompanied by another stalwart, Albert Venison. Helen's brilliant idea of bringing Alfred and Sylvia together as a news item was a highlight for all campaigners. I only hoped John Burnett had been successful in finding supporters to be outside the Prison on the day of the visit. I had only found one so far who had promised to be there, Rosemary Saint.
Helen hoped that Alfred might be able to phone her after the event to round off the occasion. I did not feel too optimistic about this!

When later, as we eat our supper, Joel decided that he would go off to the gym afterwards. He looked as tired as I felt. It would do him good to have a break. I watched Antique's Roadshow. I must say that I was finding it hard to concentrate even with this quality programme to watch.

Writing Blair's letter afterwards and then the diary certainly helped to find a better balance, which took a dive when Anne phoned to tell me she had seen me on TV and I looked washed out. Ah well!

Christine's phone call was all about getting media attention for her visit. I will do my best!

Finally, an unknown supporter by the name of Mr Pillinger, cheered me up with his appreciation of what Alfred was doing. He promised a cheque so that we could treat ourselves to a bottle of wine when Alfred comes home!
Cheers!