Sunday 2 October 2005

ALFRED

It began with a very dark morning, and I have to write in large letters to see what I am writing. Angelo is still asleep, so I move about as quietly as possible, but of course I kick the table leg, and everything rattled. This is a good time for me, as every thing is quiet within the wing. The birds are squabbling outside as usual, but I can cut them out of my mind, and think, and meditate. I feel that I am writing about a very small world which is governed by the timetable set by others. I must be like all the other inmates whose world has become so small compared with the real world outside and, in particular, with the really hectic life that Una leads. This is like hibernation, doing nothing to any point at all. I realise that this Sunday will be like the previous ones. The reduced number of warders on duty, who are involved with paperwork up in the office on the 1st floor, have to leave whatever they are doing to start the day for the inmates. I too could be doing something, like emptying our rubbish bin and even cleaning up the cell a bit.
The cells were unlocked, and we go off to collect toast and teabags, but it is breakfast 'in', as there is not enough staff to supervise breakfast in the hall. That means the toiletries' store will not be open, and there will be no razors, and we need some more toilet paper and one of those little kitchen cloths to scrub out the wash basin. Nor can we borrow a toilet brush to clean out the 'pot'. I want to get a large sack- like bag in which to collect my mail and belongings, so that I can take all my possessions out in one on Tuesday. I must ask for one today, so that if they do not have one, they could get it for tomorrow.
I was called to the gate for the chapel service in good time. We were searched as usual, and then hung around until we got the call, saying that the outside officers were in place, so that we could go out into the 'park' and through the great gate, and then on to the chapel, to be searched again before we enter.
With thirty or so years as a parish clergyman, I should be able to control my emotions. I always had a struggle with funerals and it got harder as the years went by. Taking the funeral Service, one had to convey the hope for the future of the person lying in the coffin before me, and demonstrate the wonderful love of God to the bereaved. Often I had tears in my eyes.
I sat in the chapel waiting for the service to commence, and I was almost crying. I was so moved to be there with all the inmates that would share in this service. Instead of looking around and acknowledging them, I sat with my head down.
I realise this when I see Una come into the visiting hall, when tears well up in my eyes. I thought I was a tough old bird, but I am not anymore, even if I was in the old days.
Before leaving the chapel, I went up to retired Chaplain who had taken each service that I had attended and thanked him. He was standing behind the Altar, and had invited those who had attended to sign a card, bearing our best wishes to the Roman Catholic lady who worked for the chaplaincy for many years and was moving on to another ministry elsewhere.
In the antechamber while we awaited the signal to return to our wings, I had a word or two with prisoners from other wings, whom I had met either in the receiving wing 5H, or at the services. Then it was away back to our wings after being searched, and then searched again on arrival in our wing.
There was association in progress when we got there, and another chance to mingle and talk. There was a prisoner sitting on a table watching the bar billiards, and he had overheard that I would be leaving on Tuesday. He asked me how I had found it, being here. In the conversation he mentioned he was in for life. I wondered for what, but there was only one crime that I knew of that had such a sentence.
Then it was bang- up. Angelo was shaving his head, and said he was having a visit this afternoon. I asked him who he was expecting. His mother was coming and his aunty, and he expected his grandmother would also come. I think he had heard when his trial was coming up, and that he had seen his lawyer during the week.
We collected our ‘brunch’ and ate in our cell. Soon after that, visiting was called and we went through the usual procedure. I was allocated a visiting desk right at the back of the hall, and I wondered whether Una would see me from the other end, but she did. Of course she had been told the number and letter of where I was.
The time just flew by, and Una managed to tell me my daughter Anne had made arrangements to have a day or two off to be with us when I was released. She had a friend who would have her son Jake, our grandson, while she was with us. He, of course, would be at school on Tuesday and Wednesday.
Una gave me all the arrangements that had been made, including the stay at the hotel in Banbury, and that I was not to give away where we would be when I spoke to the press and media outside the prison, or at the Saracen’s Head in Towcester.
When Una left, we waved to each other just before she went out of the hall. I sat there, and those round about me did not seem inclined to talk much. I think my row was the last to be called. I picked up our tray of paper cups and biscuit wrappers, and took it down to the dustbins near the exit. I collected my ID card, was searched, and went into the waiting room, until it was time for us to return to our wings.
Then it was bang-- up, relieved by the short time to collect our supper which we ate in our cells. It was bang- up for the rest of the day. I had not asked for the bag to take my things away in. But Angelo had one when he was moved into our cell and he said I could have it. It was a huge clear plastic sack, labelled HMP WOODHILL in blue letters. I thought this might be my memento of the prison. .




­UNA - OCTOBER 2ND 2005

I am very much aware that this is my final visiting day to Woodhill Prison. There will be memories of this time that will remain with me, that have given me insight into many people's lives. Perhaps I will be able to share them with Alfred some time in the future.

Although I know the procedures now, there are still moments when I hesitate, especially going through the identification and locker room moves. This is due to many people being in a small space dealing with property they must not carry forward.
When Alfred comes home it will be a period of adjustment for both of us. Let's hope that we can be patient with each other and stay close. It will be very reassuring for me to have and to hold him once more.

I dwelt on more thoughts like this over my first cup of tea of the day, and during sketching out a poster soon afterwards for the forthcoming students' concert. It would need photocopying and displaying before we have our break. Time is relentless and every minute counts.
Soon I was off to fill up the car with petrol, post Blair's letter and buy the Sunday papers.
There was no time to read them because of a phone call with Christine to iron out details for the Press Conference so that it went as smoothly as possible, the day after tomorrow. Very soon now!
I continued to phone others to ask them to the Celebration Party.

It was time to pop round to the Auction room to collect signatures for the last time before sending our Petition off to Mr. Boswell. He would be presenting them shortly in the new Parliamentary session that begins next week
I stood in the doorway with my clipboard at the agreed time. A few people were wandering in with their minds on the objects for sale. Most people were willing to sign but I was suddenly challenged by one of the porters. He saw no problem with the present council tax system, pointing out there were Benefits for the poor who had difficulty finding the cash. We should accept the fact that we had to pay for services and leave it at that was his view.
His attitude completely threw me and I angrily started to disagree. People on fixed incomes should not be subject to intrusive Means Testing and those who did not qualify for them were suffering the most.
Both of us refused to give way. Our raised voices caused people to stare at us. I did not want this kind of attention. It was time to leave. I was not at all happy with the way I had handled this difference of opinion.
There was time enough to calm down before driving to see Alfred.
.
Everything went smoothly through today's prison procedures until I reached the last stage. Everyone usually settles down in the waiting room before filing into the visitors' hall. Today the atmosphere was more charged and it was easy to see why. A sniffer dog, a healthy Labrador, was waiting to check us over, held firmly by its owner at one side of the room. Four mats were spread at wide intervals close to the wall. Warders organised us in turn to stand on a mat each with our arms held loosely at our sides. When four people were in place the dog sniffed us thoroughly until he reached the end of the line where he was allowed some fuss from its trainer. No one seemed to be carrying anything that was suspect. But this procedure certainly reminded me I was in a high security prison.

Alfred was emotional today but soon became strong for me. Obviously he was feeling the strain of these last days here. The short visiting time flashed by and when the warders called out that time was up the slow exit from the hall began. People made their farewells last as long as possible with eyes on the exit, trying to judge their moment to let go and leave.
On the way out I passed Angelo, Alfred's cellmate. Alfred had pointed out to me where he was sitting. He was still saying good-bye to his three visitors but I butted in to thank him for taking care of Alfred.
It was quite by chance that Angelo's mother, grandma and niece were behind me in the queue in the waiting room on our way out. They thanked me for the help Alfred had given to Angelo.
I told them I was impressed that he had written a poem to his girlfriend while being in prison and wished that he had taught Alfred how to write me one.
We had a lively chat about the need for respect for others, and true values being upheld in daily living. Obviously, we all sang from the same hymn sheet. We agreed that these were largely lacking in our society at the moment.
In front of me in the queue was a very stressed man who came from Northampton. He told me he dealt with his stress by sitting in his armchair when he reached home, with his cat on his lap. He stroked its fur until he felt calmer. Apparently his cat used three different miaow sounds: one for asking to be let out, one for reminding him that it's food time, and one when he smells chicken in the fridge.

I drove home in sunshine, remembering the people I had met over the last four weeks at Woodhill. It had been a very valuable time for me, one which I do not intend to forget.

Joel had been to Milton Keynes to buy a smart sweater to wear on Tuesday. He had been confused by the huge choice he had found there, adding to his dislike for shopping anyway.

I spoke about my visit to Christian when he rang later.
There had been many articles in the papers about council tax including a list in the Telegraph showing the 10 authorities with the largest percentage increases, 10 authorities with the highest council tax, 10 authorities with the smallest increases, and 10 authorities with the lowest council tax. This table really demonstrated how unfair and varying this tax is across the country. It is great to see the journalists getting to grips with such details for the public to know for themselves what a muddle we live in regarding this particular tax.
This article, written by Sarah Womack, reported that Mr Stephen McGrevey from Devon, questions the sense of having four separate taxes - income tax, council tax, VAT and water charges. Why not a flat tax and be done with unnecessary bureaucracy?

Shirley and Norman Tyler called later than expected in the afternoon, the reason being: they were determined to completely fill their Petition forms with signatures. They were old friends but we had lost touch by losing each other’s addresses. We had met recently with great pleasure in one of the supermarket's car park.
They described how those they had called on took the opportunity to discuss their views on council tax reform. They found that everyone was united in seeing the glaring need for reform. This news was very heartening. Alfred and Sylvia's action had drawn many people together who shared the same opinion that the Government should act promptly by setting a reform programme in motion. Presenting many Petitions in Parliament could hasten this process.

Later I picked up a message on the anwerphone from Humbert's the Auctioneers who regretted that one of their staff had treated me discourteously. On reflection I am not sure that he had. He was entitled to his opinion. I just did not like what he said and had reacted too strongly perhaps.
I appreciated their call and left a message for them to come to the Celebration Party if they wished. Jonathan Humbert is a young, enthusiastic man building his auction business with verve and imagination along with his wife Sue, who is just as energetic.

Joel and I needed a break and took ourselves off to the Indian restaurant. This time it was my treat.

We came back to cook a bacon joint for tomorrow's meal. It would probably be a busy day and it helps to have something ready to eat. After writing the letter to Blair, I joined Joel to watch ITV, both of us trying to relax and be still.
We both enjoyed the message that arrived on Joel's mobile telling us that Rory Bremnar was imitating Alfred on Channel 4! There is always a meaning underlying his take-offs, often Government directed.
Alfred was certainly in the public eye!