7 September 2005- Off To Prison

Woodhill Prison

ALFRED - 7 September 2005.

Una and I walked to the Court, having met her after she had been to the hairdressers. As we approached the courthouse, we saw a very large number of cameramen and reporters, some with microphones, and behind them a large number of protest supporters, with banners. The TV cameramen asked us to walk together this way and that, and all the time talking to the reporters. One by one we gave interviews. It was a most unnatural experience. Some even remembered that last time I was at the court I had brought a toothbrush and they wanted to see that again. In the months preceding we had received a letter, from John in Kent who appeared to know the procedure of being sentenced to prison." Take nothing with you, no watch, no jewellery, but go in jeans and t-shirt, with a tooth brush." I now know that it was not quite like that.

Eventually we went into court, when the prosecution, the council officers, arrived. It is a very small magistrates court. Plenty of room for the magistrates, and plenty of room for the court officers and legal people, but very little room for the public. I stood with Una and our friends until the magistrate entered, and the Clerk called," All stand!" I was asked to enter the Dock. I have never been in a pulpit that small. There was a tiny seat, but if one sat on it, very little of ones bottom got on it. I was sworn in, and the clerk asked the acting prosecution local government officer to state the case; to which I replied I was not guilty, because it was an illegal council tax. The Magistrate, John Woollett JP, seemed to be in a great hurry, as he was the last time I was in court. The clerk asked me three times if I admitted the crime, and each time I replied that it was an illegal council tax. Woollett JP said he would give me one minute to speak in my defence, and then sentenced me to 28 days, adding that the debt would stand. A Police Officer was standing next to the door of the court. He allowed the supporters and my family to say goodbye, and I was led to a police cell. It was about 12 feet long by about 7 feet wide and furnished with a wooden bench. I was completely shattered, and wondering what would happen next. After a while the Police Officer came back and offered me a cup of tea and a biscuit, saying that I might not get anything until an evening meal. Having left my watch at home I had no idea of the time, I got out my notebook to start my diary. The air conditioning fan was very loud.
After what seemed a very long while 2 Prison Transport Officers came and began the form filling routine, and gave me a packet of sandwiches, a chocolate biscuit, and a packet of crisps. And when they were ready, one came up to me and fitted handcuffs on me, and then hand cuffed the handcuffs to himself. He led me out of the police station, into the van that was to be my transport. It was smaller than a horsebox, with little darkened windows. I was placed in a little cell, and the connecting handcuffs were removed, and the door was shut. We began to go out through the arch to the front of the police station. Through the window I saw our friends and supporters, waving their banners and cheering. It did me a lot of good to see them still there, even though it seemed a long time since I left the Court.

The journey went gently as far as Milton Keynes, but the driver found some diversions at a roundabout, and went around it 2 or 3 times, before ignoring the diversion signs and drove off to H.M.P. Woodhill.

Woodhill, as well as being our nearest prison, is a Category A High Security Prison. It took us a while to get to the double gateway, as a large skip lorry was parked in the way. Then we were waved in. The gates were closed behind us. The 2 Officers got out and went to a closed window and handed the papers through a slit, and returned to the van and drove into another wired in enclosure, up to a Reception gate. I was taken into the reception area, and told to wait in a marked out square. Then I was made to strip off my shirt, vest, and jacket, and told spin round in front of 2 Prison Officers. Then I put my vest and shirt on, and took off my shoes, socks, jeans and pants, and did another spin a round. When I had redressed, I went up to the counter and handed over everything in my pockets, and a £10 note I had found in my sock. Someone had kindly slid it in there while I was waiting to go into Court. I was allowed to keep my pipe and tobacco.

I had to sign for every thing they had taken from me, and then went into an interview room to be photographed, and issued with an Identity Card. I was now MX 8993,and was told I had to carry it with me everywhere. I was let into a. hot and airless waiting room, before seeing a male nurse, to arrange for my daily medication. Then back into the waiting room, where other inmates were, who were getting stroppy about being kept there instead of having their "association" time. I was not to know what association was until later. Anyway these prisoners started to abuse the staff, and banged on the door and windows. I got quite worried that there might be a confrontation. But I expect the staff had experienced this sort of thing before, and ignored it. Eventually an officer came to lead me to my block, out of the door across to a very high steel fence, with a gateway. There were one or two prison officers with German shepherd dogs, standing well away from the pathway. There was a large open area, with no trees, but a forest of lights and CCTV cameras. I was led to block H5, and entered by a heavy steel door into a waiting area, with a barred gate. I was led into the block and taken up 2 flights of iron stairs, and along to Cell 3.13. That was opened and I went in. I was given a pillow case filled with 2 Sheets, a towel, ½ a bar of soap, and a roll-on- deodorant. To complete the allocation I was given a plastic dinner plate, a plastic bowl, a large plastic mug, and plastic knife, fork and spoon.

Lying on the lower bunk was John, a tall white haired and bearded man watching the TV, some soap opera. It might have been Neighbours. The TV had a very spotted picture, with an indoor aerial stuck in a bottle. I made my bed, and then the cell door was unlocked. John told me it was mealtime, and to bring my things, off we went down to the ground floor to collect our food from a hatchway, and some bread and either fruit or a chocolate sweet. We returned to our cell by using 2 different flights of stairs.

The 3 floors, are known as "Ones” the ground floor,” Twos", the first floor, and "Threes" the top floor. We were "banged up" for the night. And all I remember of the rest of the day was the football match England against Northern Ireland. The whole England team should have been put in prison for the atrocious way it played.



UNA - SEPTEMBER 7TH 2005

Today my husband would be sent to Prison.

With a sense of unreality we started the days routine until our son Joel, based at home for a spell, drove off to Oxford where his friend Justin lived. Justine owned a cine camera and was keen to record today's events at the Magistrates' Court.

Alfred, my husband, retreated into reading a book while I hoovered through the downstairs rooms in an attempt to keep calm. The Court Hearing started at 12 noon.

Deliberately I had arranged a hairdresser’s appointment in the morning to help me keep centred. Afterwards I would meet Alfred and together we would walk the short distance to the Court.

As it turned out I found myself waiting for Alfred in a strong wind that blew my hair all over the place. I walked to Waitrose's entrance, which was close by, where I could stand well protected from the weather and could use my mobile to find out if Alfred was on his way.

Joel, back from Oxford answered the phone. He planned to drive his Dad to where I waited and then he would drive on ahead to park his car in the Garden Centre area, which was opposite the Magistrates' Court.

Feeling a bit dishevelled but a lot better when Alfred appeared, we set off to the Court, which was part of the Police Station in Towcester. It stood at the extreme end of the building close to the busy A5.

Some of Alfred's Probus friends joined us in the last stretch of the way. As we drew nearer we were overwhelmed by the huge array of cameras. Beyond them we could see the banners and placards held by supporters. Some had travelled a long way to be here. They had come from Devon, Dorset, Hampshire, Leicester and Blackpool using the occasion to demonstrate against the unfairness of the Council Tax. The passing traffic hooted their approval.

After speaking to several Reporters and Supporters it was time to make our way into the Courtroom. It was a small place. On the left of the entrance there were a few chairs for the public. Most of the space there seemed to be set aside for the Court Usher's use. Directly opposite to the entrance was a long wooden table for the Prosecution, furnished with microphones. This was where two members from our local Council took their places. They faced the Bench raised on a dais with a place for the Clerk of the Court to sit in front of the central Magistrate. Just inside the doorway to its right the Dock stood on floor level. That is where Alfred stood at 12p.m. to face John Woollett, the only presiding Magistrate.

The case opened with the Clerk of the Court insisting that Alfred should agree that he was guilty of not paying his Council Tax in full. Alfred insisted he was there because he would not pay an illegal council Tax. Although it was a ding-dong battle between them Alfred stuck to his guns and the Clerk finally gave way! His authority was not as strong as Alfred's stubbornness
Alfred was allowed one minute only to address the Court before the Magistrate bullishly sentenced him to 28 days in Prison. Then he added, "Let the debt stand!"

I felt stunned at hearing this and wanted to shout, "You don't know your law!" But I lacked the confidence to do so. I was told that one of the prosecutions smiled with satisfaction when hearing this statement.

Alfred had lowered himself to the seat inside the Dock. Joel was close by steadying him. I pushed through the crowd until I could reach for his hand. The noise from the packed Court Room clearly showed its disapproval of the Sentence. Woollett swept quickly away. As people began to leave the Court and passed by Alfred, every one of them shook his hand or grasped his arm or hugged him. Many had tears in their eyes. Shortly a sturdy policeman, smiling calmly, took Alfred away to a cell where I could not go.

From there a Prison Van would take him to Milton Keynes High Security Prison. We had found this out earlier and rehearsed the journey. This present moment when we went our separate ways was a total shock for me.

Outside the Court the massed microphones and cameras were ready and waiting. It became a matter of using the moment. I spoke of my feelings about the sentence and the reason Alfred had chosen this way.

I noticed the supporters were standing together away from the Press facing the arched entrance of main building. At that time I had no idea why they were standing in that position.

Joel and Justin were deep in making arrangements for a home interview with an ITV journalist. We then made a decision to drive away to a country pub just outside the town for a bite to eat and to gain some control before this interview took place.

On this warm and sunny September day we sat outside to eat our fish and chips feeling surprisingly hungry. A little while later we recognised a couple coming towards us as part of the supporting crowd outside the Court. They looked surprised to see us. They told us they had waved Alfred off to Prison before coming here. It was then we realised where we should have been! Without us realising what was happening, Alfred must have actually passed by on this stretch of the A5 as we sat eating! This bizarre fact was hard to accept. We left as quickly as possible for the privacy and shelter of home.

I had not cancelled the piano lessons that were arranged for three afternoons of the week: Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Today was Wednesday. Every session went from 3.30 p.m. to 6.30 p.m. There were two reasons for this; I did not want to interrupt the students' routine and I found great enjoyment in this part of my life. Today would be business as usual.
Before this happened we found an enormous amount of mail and phone messages waiting to be dealt with when we returned home. Joel took care of the phone messages. I found a postcard from Devon sent by Elizabeth Winkfield, the first ever Council Tax Protester.

Among the phone messages was an invitation to the Richard and Judy Show, a Telegraph reporter Teresa Hunter saying "how shocked and appalled" she was at Alfred's Sentence, and two other Reporters from Guernsey and Southend seeking interviews because we had spent part of our lives in these places.

Suddenly TV cameras and crews had arrived in the house explaining they would like to do three consecutive interviews for the evening news times.

When I escaped at 3.3o p.m. Joel and Justin took charge of everything including making many cups of tea and coffee for the media. Later they cooked our evening meal of eggs and bacon and gave me a progress report, which warned me to expect a visit from a Daily Mail Reporter the following day.

The lads decided to take a break to the nearest pub.

I found doing ordinary things on my own extremely helpful for keeping the stress level down. Washing up and making a bed on the sitting room floor was part of this exercise.

The first phone call I had that evening was from a retired Bishop. He had known Alfred when he was a curate in Prittlewell, Southend. It was there that we had met and married. The Bishop’s deep sounding voice gave me great comfort. The timing of his phone call was so right and it certainly helped to steady me.

Soon afterwards came a call from Christine Melsom who had travelled with her husband John to Court this morning and was now back home in Hampshire. For two years she had led the protest group Isitfair, being the founder member. She had led two marches to Downing Street to present Petitions to the Prime Minster, hoping that he would keep his promise to listen. He had not done this very well so far.

Here was Christine tonight, letting me know that a lady named Margaret Fisher wanted to send me flowers and Alfred some of his favourite tobacco, Three Nuns, as well as making sure that I was coping.

Listening to the Answer phone I was thrilled to hear Christopher's voice, Alfred's brother, adding his support from Australia where he lives. Strangely the next two messages were from his daughter Lisa trying to make contact from France.

I had moved upstairs by 9 a.m. thinking about an early night. Instead I became caught up in an interview on Radio 5 and hoped I made sense.

Then Steve Doughty from the Daily Nail called me for our Council Tax details. He wanted them for an article he was writing. I forgot where the exact details were kept. I had chased this reporter on several occasions hoping to persuade him to write about the urgent need for council tax reform and how people were suffering under the present system. Now, with roles reversed, I had failed to use this opportunity. Life is so frustrating at times.

A second call from Christine told me of the huge number of E-mails she was receiving, all in our favour except for two.

Alison Marston from the Mirror wanted an interview with Alfred, but at that moment I had no idea of how to achieve this.

Later it was good to hear my daughter Anne's voice from Devon where she lives. She had followed the news all day.

I noticed there had been 50 calls recorded on our easicon phone.

In bed I sipped a long whisky and water watching the ITV news. There was a shot of the protestors surrounding the Magistrate's very expensive car. The three police on duty did try to help him in a rather slow manner. The new Chief Executive of our local Council rounded off the programme by saying that the Council by saying that it had the power to remit our debt. I felt very confused by this and the Magistrate's earlier statement in Court. Checking with the Citizens' Advice Bureau in the morning was vital to make sure of the facts - that the Council had no power to do this according to the Council Tax Law of 1992.

I thought about Alfred being away for 28 days. Together we had decided to try to live one day at a time. This first day had been exhausting