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

8 September 2005

ALFRED - 8 SEPTEMBER 05.

The bed was very hard, and so was the pillow, rather like those log pillows that the Chinese are meant to have used. But I slept and woke early, as there was no curtain on the window, though I do not suppose it would have made a difference, as it is flood lit outside. It was very early, as light was changing from the orange of the floodlights to the grey of the morning. I was wondering about all sorts of things. Here I was in prison. Me, who been so conformist all my life. But I had gone against the system, purposely, because the council tax had risen by 8.5 % and all people on low fixed incomes were only getting a rise in income of about 2.5%, after years of council tax rises of anything between 3.9 and 5%. I do not know if my protest and those of other people will have any effect at all.
In our cell the toilet was next to the door, a narrow wall hid most of it from the rest of the cell, and the washbasin stood next to it. I had awash, a pretty thorough one as I had slept in my underpants and vest. I asked John about shaving, and as he was bearded, it did not affect him. He told me one collected a razor from the officer at the toiletry hatch, which I did when I went down to collect breakfast at 8.0am I was told to return the razor before lunch. After breakfast the cell doors were left open so that we could clean out our cells, and the cleaning of the landings was carried out too. It was them that I was greeted, " Hallo Vicar. Saw you on Tele, last night." Prisoners came up and said I had done well and they supported and encouraged me.
There was a yell from prisoners on the ground floor going to the gym and education. Being partly deaf, I never did understand what those yells were all about and had to ask someone. Then it was" Bang-up". The doors were shut and bolted. I am a little hazy about what went on and when. But lunch was about 12.30pm. More yells for something else came from the ground floor as the day went on. Somewhere about 3.30pm it was association, and we came out of our cells, and went down to the ground floor, and milled around; some played bar billiards, and a few played table tennis, and then we were banged-up until supper time. And then banged-up for the night. I saw Una on the TV and saw a string of Soap operas and finally climbed into bed in my underpants and vest.
During the early evening there was a lot of shouting, when people in cells called out for tobacco or papers or matches, which were swung on ropes made up from the bottom of sheets, torn off. Eventually things quietened down. I felt as if I was in another world, which had its own timetable and procedures which I already forgotten, and may be I would get into trouble. I think to-morrow I will be stupid and ask what was going on, and what was supposed to be doing.
It was at this time I thought a lot about Una, and how she might or might not be coping. I was pleased that Joel, our son was with her because I knew he would be a tower of strength. I thought of Anne, in Barnstaple, and little Jake. How at 7 years old do you cope with a grandfather in prison?
I decided that 28 days spent here was going to be boring and a great waste of time. How do people doing a long stretch manage it?



UNA - SEPTEMBER 8TH 2005

The day began with an interview with Radio Northampton at 7.30 a.m.

Joel and Justin were up before return to Oxford with plenty of yesterday's action caught on the cine- camera. It was good meeting Joel's friend who had fitted in so well.

At 9.30 Martin Evans from the Daily Express was at the door. He thought I would be impressed by his paper's headline to release Alfred from Prison. This was the last thing we wanted to happen. Agreed that it was monstrous that a 71 year old should go to Prison for a civil offence. The law is clear that that the sentence must be served before we are in the position of not having to pay the debt, inflated by the Council's own procedures. After 5 months of paying our Council Tax bill without the year's increases, the Council had stopped us paying altogether unless we paid the full amount in one go. The Council said we owed them £691 which included Court and Bailiff's costs. Our real debt amounted to £43, which were the tax increases we had refused to pay for 5 months we had succeeded already in drawing a great amount of attention to the flaws in the Council Tax system. We needed the present opportunity to add pressure for council tax reform. After a while Martin Evans understood our position. The Daily Express restrained themselves from seeking Alfred's release.

Shortly afterwards I opened the door to two tall men who were Nick Britten from the Telegraph and a photographer, David Burgess. This second interview went along the same lines as the first although Nick insisted on clear answers about Alfred's stance. Photos were taken during and after the interview and it was a relief when this ended and they finally went away. I reminded myself that we needed the attention from the national papers.

Hot on their heels came two groups of ITV camera crews again to collect the "morning after" state of affairs for the daytime news spot.

Ross Slater introduced himself as an Agency Journalist when I next opened the door. In he came and we slowly went through our story again. This was a really dogged experience which left no time for lunch that day.

Two bunches of flowers gave me some going power. They were cheerful sunflowers, delivered by two music students and a stylish bouquet that the Daily Mail reporter, Christian Gyson, carried with him when he called.
One of our protest group quickly handed me a miniature white rose plant when she came by in the afternoon. This lasted throughout the 28 days, standing on our sitting room table and gave a lot of pleasure.

Early afternoon I went shopping in Somerfields where all the staff were encouraging and concerned about Alfred. They did not like the idea of him being in Prison with his slight heart problem He and I were not unduly worried about this because his doctor had controlled the problem well and Alfred does not take risks. Even so, it was good to feel their concern.

Martin Henry, Head of Finance at the Council, phoned to let me know that ahead of a Press Release he wanted me to know that the Council had decided to wipe out our debt to them. He was courteous enough al though I felt it was an internal rather than a public matter for the Council. There was a hint of trying to "look good" from the Council's point of view.
I forgot to ask for this message to be confirmed in writing. I made a note to follow this up.

Joel came home early from work and we had supper together before he went to meet Christian Gyson who seemed to be staying in a local pub. Joel became our right hand man during this time liasing between many. He proved to be a real strength to us all the way through our chosen journey.

In the evening Mike Schofield of Isitfair phoned to let me know that he was encouraging all supporters by E-mail to flood the Prison letters and cards for Alfred. He felt, in time, we would make the history books! Mike was organising M.P.s to present Petitions from their constituents in Parliament for Council Tax Reform during the 2nd week in October. This should help focus attention on the Council Tax issue once more. All the time continual pressure is needed.
When Christine phoned later she was enthusiastic about an idea for these Petitions to be presented to M.P.s on St. Stephen's Green. This could be effective but very hard to organise.

Anne told me that as she would not be able to visit her Dad in Prison she would try to write daily letters. This would be a new link between them I though which would give them both a chance to share their feelings.

Today I had fixed three visits with the Prison authorities. This is possible to do on weekdays only, booking three visits in advance at a time. Alfred's Prison number is MX8993. This has to be used for all Prison contacts. Now I can look forward to tomorrow afternoon when I shall see him at 2.15 p.m.
Joel and Christian are coming too. I hope Alfred will be pleased to see us all.

Dear Bee of 91 years left a message on the Answer phone. She had read about us in the Times. She was very concerned to know how we were. Another message came from a mutual friend that I had been waiting to hear from since May. She spoke about the "difficult" time we were going through. This might have had a weakening effect on me if I had not thought quickly that we had deliberately chosen to act this way because we had exhausted all the democratic ways of making a protest. Council Tax reform was a very serious issue with us. We could not live with its unfairness.

There had been 42 calls today. I have never received so many in one day. So many had come from friends and relations across the years that it seemed my life kaleidoscope into this one day. I wondered if Alfred would feel buoyed up by all these contacts, showing such support and understanding, as I did

It was the first time our answer phone instructed me to delete some calls to make room for more!

The day finished with a late night radio interview with James Wale who was outraged over Alfred's imprisonment and understood his stance: to draw attention to the gross unfairness of the Council Tax system. This news was certainly being widely known, thanks to the media attention.

I had written my first letter to Mr. Blair today, a self-inflicted penance to match Alfred's 28 days Sentence.

Weariness was setting in as I pulled the bedclothes together for a much needed sleep. I really missed Alfred's shape around our home and it felt very strange having a vacant place next to me in bed.

9 September

ALFRED. 9 Sept 2005.

I awoke very early, and it was darkish outside, and I could not write the diary until there was a lot more light. I thought about things, and said my prayers, and meditated. Then I wrote up the day before's happenings in my notebook.
The day started in the same way as yesterday. But an Officer and the store man prisoner offered and brought me some prison clothes: a tired maroon tracksuit trousers and a sweatshirt of the same colour, a light blue T-shirt, and grey socks. I handed over own shirt and socks, and something else, I cannot remember what, maybe my underpants. They must have given me a pair of boxer shorts. I could have had some prison pyjamas, but I did not know this. Later I had a feeling it was considered one was a pansy if you wore pyjamas.
Anyway, I was told, that if one wanted visits one has to fill in an application form specifying whom you would allow to visit you. I only put down Una's name, without a date, and handed it in. So I would have to speak to Una on the phone. Very luckily, I was reminded by an officer, that I had not had my one free call, and so rang up Una. She said she would make visit arrangements direct with the visitor’s dept. And I asked her to have some more of my own clothes to be handed in at reception.
Then I was told to report to a particular room for Induction. This was run by 2 officers who did not seem to know who was in charge of it. About a dozen of us were there, including 2 young Romanians, a couple of African British and some Indians or Pakistanis and a young chap who seemed ill. Induction is all about what one can do and cannot do, mostly cannot do. Firstly there are three categories of prisoner. Basic, usually for badly behaved ones. Standard, which I was. And because I was not a criminal but a civil prisoner, I was allowed to have a visitor every day, and I could continue to wear my own clothes. Then there is an enhanced status of prisoner, who was allowed more privileges, including longer visiting times. This status was earned by being useful, helpful and attending education, or by taking a course in catering and serving the meals. We were paid £2.50 a week, but £1.00 was deducted for the hire of the TV in the cell. By becoming a cleaner or store man, or working in the block laundry one could earn some more. There is a canteen at which one could buy things, like tobacco, matches, cigarette papers, stamps, telephone time, and about 70 other items. But you only buy things if you had an account, which was made up with money brought in, sent in, or earned. One handed in the shopping list on Sunday, and delivery to the block or wing, as it was sometimes known. Induction went on for an hour or so. The young man, apparently unwell, was sent to his cell, halfway through the session, as the officers were fed up with his play-acting. I think he was play acting and not ill. We also were told we have to go to the education induction, or we could lose status. This was for us, tomorrow morning.
Lunch was ready, and while collecting it I was told to report to the gate at "main" movement, to go to the medical centre. So about 1.45 p.m. I joined all those going somewhere, gym, education, or those who had visitors. We were touch searched, with hands out, and lifting up our shoes, and then let out through the bars into the area to wait for the steel doors to be opened. When they were open we all streamed to the central pathway, and were joined by all the others leaving their wings and going to the activities already mentioned. As we went along there were officers with dogs standing about, at the high fence with the gate there were other officers, keeping an eye on us, and we were led to wherever we were going. I was taken to the medical centre, touch searched again and shut in a waiting room. Later I was fetched to a youngish lady who explained that the centre wanted to have their own record of what I had been given when I had arrived, so we went through it again. Not a long wait this time and I was led out to the gate in the steel fence and back to H5. Back in the cell, I found that John had been moved for the last three weeks of his sentence. After tea or supper at 6.0pm, I was joined by Tony, which was fortunate for me, as I had run out of matches for my pipe, and he gave me some. Tony was on recall, i.e. he had been let out on licence, and something had happened (a nice way of saying he had done something, and he licence had been withdrawn) He expected to be a prisoner until Sept 2007. I enjoyed his company, and he took over the top bunk, and I moved down to the lower one. He taught me how to make a long wick. He took the toilet paper, several 6 foot lengths twisted them into a rope, and lit one end, and, hanging the smouldering end out the window, which kept alight for as long as one wanted. I was learning new tricks.
When I went to hand in my visitors list in the office on "ones", I saw an officer reading the post. They had to censor all mail coming in and going out. He said the pile in front of him was all for me. Later he delivered it to me, all 30 letters and cards. It took me two hours to read them all, so he must have spent about the same time to look through them. It was very encouraging to have so much support, my spirits were lifted. Many agreed that I had done the right thing, and some wished they could do the same thing, and many did not understand that H.M.P.Woodhill was my "local" prison as well as being a Category A Prison, and were outraged that I had been sent here.





UNA - SEPTEMBER 9TH 2005

At 5a.m. I put on Alfred's green and red-striped dressing gown for comfort, and went downstairs to look after the flowers delivered yesterday and still standing in water waiting to be arranged. I noticed it was a misty September morning, a promising day.
If yesterday was anything to go by, we needed to be ready for what was ahead of us today.
My thoughts were with Alfred wondering how he copes with his new routine.
I found myself thinking angrily about his extreme act of defiance against the Council Tax system. Perhaps the publicity surrounding Alfred is uniting millions now when once it had been a much smaller number.
When will the Prime Minister settle down to look after his own country properly?

My son insists that I don't drive to Milton Keynes today to see Alfred. He has his own memories of this prison when visiting a friend there some years ago perhaps, or he doesn't trust my driving today.
Trying to get a perspective I understand that Alfred is there by choice and not for years.
After washing the kitchen floor, one of those ordinary things to do, I found a Bourguignon meal in the deep freeze that would make a meal for today.


The postman delivered another heavy load of cards and letters from well-wishers. The phone calls were shared between Joel and me. Today he was home in order to come to the Prison with me. Christine spoke on the phone about keeping an update on Alfred's progress for those in touch with her through E-mails. This I would certainly try to do.
I was worried that James Wale after last night's interview might go ahead with an idea to raise a Petition for Alfred's release. Joel discovered his number through the 118118 system. James Wale had lost interest in a Petition thankfully.
A Glasgow reporter, Mike Tierny, called to arrange a meeting with Alfred in Prison during the weekend. He wanted to include our story with Sylvia Hardy's whom he was interviewing first.
Another challenge from Christine - can we find people to collect signatures outside Sainsbury's for the Petition idea? Impossible to think of anyone who uses the store at this moment.
Just before we left for Milton Keynes the Church of England Newspaper rang with an idea for a joint article from Christine and myself to provoke a debate from its readers. This was an opportunity worth acting on.

We set off for our first Prison visit at mid-day. We are due to see Alfred at 2.30 p.m. We are anxious to be on time. In the end it was Christian, the Daily Mail reporter, who drove us in his car because he had asked to see Alfred today
It was not a smooth start. Half way out of Towcester I realised that I had left my Passport behind. It was needed to prove entry into the Prison. Back home we went, taking advantage of the opportunity to buy Alfred two packets of his favourite tobacco. We also changed notes into æÃ1 coins to buy Alfred food and drink. Christian had more experience of Prison visits.
On our way at last, Christian kept our spirits steady with entertaining cricket stories. He was looking forward to being at the Test Match the following day at Lord's, whatever the weather might be.
Despite the hold-up we were in the Prison car park by 12.40 p.m.

The Reception area was not unlike a hotel layout. We checked in by quoting Alfred's Prison number and by showing our IDs. We were given numbered tickets and an information pack to share. Or tickets numbered 6,7 and 8.
At 1p.m. we moved from reception to a small room when our numbers were called. We exchanged the tickets for an authorised form which we carried with us all the way to the checkpoint before the visting hall.
First we had our IDs checked by a warder sitting behind a glass window in this small room where two walls were covered by lockers. Most had keys in their doors. After we had our finger prints and a photograph taken, we chose a locker to leave our property inside. We just carried the locker key, form and money to buy food and drink. It was a good idea to remember the locker number for the return journey!

We walked from this building across an open space to the Main Prison. Inside we presented our forms to another warder behind a glass panel before being searched similar to Airport procedure. Our shoes had to come off and our mouths, hands and the base of our feet were checked. The Prison staff knew who we were and openly cheered us on!
We left this checkpoint, passing through two electronic doors leading to the waiting room area. We walked along an outside pathway protected by a curved roof. On one side was a very tall wall, with rings of razor wire at the top of it, that stretched away into the distance. On our opposite side we could see Prison vans parked by the main building through a high wire fence. We were checked again before we entered the waiting area which was a large room where we found metal seats arranged in groups. At the far end was a glass protected office where warders checked lists and fingerprints before allowing us to enter the hall where the prisoners waited.
At 2,15 p.m. surnames were called out by a warder. This is where those with single ticket numbers at the reception stage gained a few extra minutes with their prisoner because names were usually called in numerical order.
When our numbers were called, I led the way into the hall. Gazing at the sea of faces in front of me I felt terribly lost until Alfred stood up in the far corner. It was a long way to reach him. His face crumpled as I neared and we had a long hug.
Christian was introduced and disappeared at once to buy sandwiches and drinks from a hole- in- the -wall shop close to the hall entrance. We faced Alfred across a small table with a low wooden barrier over the middle of it.
He told us about his two-bedded bunk in a shabby cell which he shared with one other older man. They had an unsatisfactory TV whose picture was constantly on the move. He felt that the prisoners had accepted him. He had talked to a few. The Methodist Chaplain had visited him on hi first day.
We told him about the volume of post and the many phone calls and how supportive everyone had been. We were looking forward to seeing the results of Justin's filming. We chatted on and on.
Although we had brought clothes for Alfred there was no easy way for him to receive them and it turned out to be several days before they reached him due to the procedure timing. To us he was shaved and wonderfully familiar. But he must have felt at a loss without clothes of his own.
When Christian came back from the shop it was his turn to talk to Alfred. Joel decided to leave soon afterwards grasping his Dad's hands tightly first. Christian left early too. I think he was being tactful.
The warders shouted out when time was up. It was hard walking away but I noticed that Alfred's attention was caught elsewhere which made an easier parting. We followed the same checking procedures in reverse with the unlocking of doors when a group of twelve collected together. I caught up with Joel in the locker room. I had been suffering a mild panic because my locker key seemed to be lost. It was a relief to see Joel waving it at me over the heads of other people struggling to get their belongings out of the lockers. I had forgotten he had taken care of it.
We found Christian waiting by his car. I remembered to collect Alfred's clothes from where we had left them at Reception, not accepted this time because we misunderstood the procedure that had to be followed.
Christian could see cameras and Press at the gates. He was not keen to stop but I persuaded him to give us two or three minutes because they had waited for some time. I forgot that this is part of their job, to wait. It was now 4.15 p.m. and we all needed to be away for different reasons.
When Christian dropped us at home he gave us two bottles of wine before he drove away. At our front door I noticed a parcel by the step. It turned out to be a box of Rocher chocolates from a very caring friend who lived close to us.

It helped Joel to have an offer from a friend who needed help to knock down walls in a building he was renovating. Just right for relieving tension. In a short while our meal had heated up so in the early evening Joel was ready to go.

It was time for me to do something ordinary. Watering the garden fitted the bill. Then I was ready to unload the Answer phone and finish opening the mail.
My cousin, silent for years, had written a terse message of support. I reacted at once to phone him he was willing to join in the Petition exercise. This pleased me very much.
Unusually an Oxford local Councillor from the Vale of White Horse had written a very valuable letter expressing understanding and support: " Some Councils (ours is controlled by the Lib Dems) are spendthrifts. They vote through, by party block voting all opposition, huge and unnecessary increases, and then cover it up with specious talk. It is, to me at least, sickening; especially those who vote these things through are often well-off and appear not to consider those who are not."

Among the phone messages there were two from Heather Nicholson, a journalist working for the Times. She sent greetings to Alfred and reminded us to to "Keep writing the Diaries." It had been her idea for us to do so if Alfred ever reached the Prison stage. Se had interviewed us for a Council Tax article some months before.
Wayne, a local reporter, let me know that the Leader of the Council had embarrassed her Officers by publicly denying their decision to remit or " wipe out " the debt. She said a Cabinet decision would be made in October.
Tomorrow an Observer reporter wants an interview and the Sunday Times is also interested." How about that for interest?
Tim Maybe is fixing a time for Alfred to speak on Eddie Mayer's 5 p.m. programme when he is released.
Reported in the Press I saw an article saying that Help the Aged supported our cause, which is indeed strong support.
Of the three interviews with me reported in the Express, Mail and Telegraph the most accurate and stylish was the article in the Telegraph. I learned from these interviews I needed to make clearer statements.
The family photos in the Express upset Anne big time. One of the reasons for this was that I had not asked for her agreement. Family fallouts really bother me. I could easily understand her point of view. It was a bad mistake. No one enjoys being disregarded. Certainly not by your Mother when you are 35. I apologised and the matter was set aside.

There had been over 50 calls today. Deleting to make room for messages was done several times. The day came to an end at midnight. I had never lived such a jam-packed day! Events seemed to have escalated through out the day but we had survived well.

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! "

11 September

ALFRED - SUNDAY.11TH. SEPTEMBER.

I am still worried that I do not know the routine for the day. I suppose that I will get to know in time. But there is a much more relaxed feeling. The day starts at 8.0am, with the cell doors being opened, and we all, or most of us, go down to the ground floor, to pick up toast and tea- making allocation of tea bags, sugar, milk powder, a packet of butter substitute, and some jam. While I am down there, I ask that I may go to the Chapel Service, which is about 10.0.am at about 8.45. the Moslems are called to worship. There are about 10 of them. Then the call comes for the Roman Catholics who seem to be gone only for a short while. Then the other churches are called, and about 15 of us are searched as usual. We go out into the "park", that is how I think of the open space in the centre of the various wings. We troop across the "park" in quite a joyful mood. About seven of us are black, and they are always a happy bunch. There are three Romanians, and the rest of us from Britain. When we arrive at the Chapel, we are searched again, and have to show our ID cards before we go in. The seats are arranged in two semi circles with an Altar standing away from the East wall. On the right hand side there is a lady sitting at the organ. The Minister, in a plum co loured coat, is strumming a guitar. He welcomes us and sings a worship song. Then we have the first hymn, followed by a prayer and a reading, and another hymn. The three Romanians are beside me, and I show which hymn we are on. The Minister then gives his sermon on the great forgiveness of God for us all. Then he says we will have a short Communion Service and, as a Methodist, he welcomes us all to the table. At the Sharing of the Bread and Wine we all, well nearly all, come and stand in a semi circle and receive them. He laid his hand on those who did not wish to receive. And after the final hymn he gives us all a blessing. Then we troop out to the hallway. And surprise, we are offered coffee.
There was one young man from another wing who was disturbed. I do not know, but he seemed to be "high". I met another young man who welcomed me, saying he had seen me on TV. He told me that he should not be here because he had not been to court, and anyway he was not guilty of anything. He also told me his father, who was a Free Church Minister, would like to write to me. Later I did get a letter from him, and I met him when he visited his son. The young man was found not guilty. I only saw him at a later service. I do not remember what we had for brunch, at 11.45 On Sundays there are two times for visits as Sundays is the best day for the visitors who may well have to travel from far away. What is more the prison sends a bus to meet them at Milton Keynes Station. My visiting time was at 2.0pm.
During the time following brunch, a lady Prison Officer and a prisoner came to me and offered a change of clothes and the offer to wash mine. So when I went to the Visiting Hall I was in a washed out purple Track suit, and a bright blue T-shirt.
It was a great visit. Una had written some notes on her hand to remind her what she wanted to say to me. She fetched coffee and choc bars to feed me up. These visits were a pure delight to me. But I think the visitors had a very strict arrival system with many checks and searches. While the prisoners were sitting at their allotted desks, we talked, and many congratulated me on my stand against the council tax. It was lovely to see prisoners' families looking for their man. The little children would run to their dads and give them delighted hugs. Then we were called row by row to leave, taking with us plastic cups, bottles, and choc bar w rappers to be put in the dustbins on the way out. We collected our ID cards, and went out to be searched, and some to be strip searched. I never saw anyone being caught with anything on them that they should not have.
When I got back to the wing, association was still in progress, and I stayed on the ground floor and chatted to some my fellow inmates.
Sunday was the day we made out our canteen lists and handed them in, for what we wanted and can afford, to the office. I remember as well as ordering tobacco and matches, I ordered a pack of playing cards so that I could play Patience to fill in the time. As Pipe smoking was not supposed to go on, I ordered Red Bull. I was told it was the nearest thing to pipe tobacco that we could get. We had to wait until Thursday before our canteen was delivered. Even though I had already run out. Many of the inmates made sure I did not go without. After supper it was bang- up. We watched TV as usual. Of all the days so far, this one was good, even with the low number of staff on duty.



UNA - SEPTEMBER 11TH 2005

I woke at 5.45 am. remembering the sound of the stirring music from the last night of the Proms. I lay still for a while, thinking. These first few days, since Alfred had gone to Prison, had been more than hectic. Life was moving at a fast rate most of the time. I felt as if I was continually hitting tennis balls, thrown to me from the far distance of a tennis court. There was no time to think straight. Writing my diary was rather like making a shopping list. Just jotting down what I did without explaining why because life is going at a furious pace. I was beginning to understand that the demand for news about Alfred in Prison is important to the media and in turn, important to our cause. I am determined to keep supplying the information they need.

At 2p.m I aimed to see Alfred for a 50 minutes visit. This was the incentive to get going.
A bath and a hair wash tied in length with another washing machine programme. The washing was hung in the garage because it was a rainy day, out of sight and almost out of mind. After a muesli and coffee breakfast I set off to buy our Sunday paper, The Mail on Sunday. Alfred always walked to do this but I took the car because I was short of time.

Before checking what the paper had to say I suddenly remembered that I needed to find a yellow sticker memo with the Rural Dean's phone number noted by Joel. I needed it for this afternoon's visit so that Alfred could fill in the appropriate visitor's form. The Rural Dean, Michael Burton, was planning a second effort to visit Alfred next Wednesday calling here first to collect fresh clothes for him. Up till now he had no change of clothing that was his own.
When I eventually found the memo pad I felt a flood of relief and wrote the phone number in a safe place, my diary!

The answerphone had recorded a message from an old friend called Pete. I had met him at a convalescent home in Kent nine years ago. Very occasionally he will call me, usually late at night when he is relaxing. The last time he had phoned was after watching the Chancellor, Gordon Brown, on TV in the summer of 2005 announcing his pre-budget report. I was part of a group selected to travel to Stockport to comment on his speech. Pete was knocked out when he recognised me airing my views: keenly pointing out that since 1993 he had still not kept his promise to do away with Means Testing the elderly in this country. Later that day Pete phoned to say he had seen me on TV. He forecast then that Alfred and I " would one day lead the nation!" I think that this is highly unlikely but we were in the news today.
Pete was clearly unaware of our present state but quickly became interested, finishing up with agreeing to take part in Isitfair 's aim to get M.P.s to present their constituents' Petitions for Council Tax Reform in the House of Commons in October. His M.P. is David Laws and he felt sure that he would give this enterprise his support.

Joel phoned in. He said he was enjoying a buzz from all that was happening at the moment. His friends were 100% behind us and this greatly affected him. He had seen Justin's video of September 7th and judged it to be good but it needed to be longer.

I wrote messages on my hand in biro in an effort to remember items of news for Alfred before setting off for today's Prison visit.
It was while I sitting in the large waiting area that I noticed a family that seemed to be very much in tune with one another. While the Mother sat, her two teenaged sons stood near her, quite relaxed. When they caught each other’s eyes, they smiled easily. This lady told me they came from Stanstead to visit her nineteen year old son. She accepted her situation by seeing that what was happening now would lead to something good in the future which could not happen at all without travelling through the present time first. When good things happened again they would lead directly from this difficult time they were experiencing now. Obviously her reasoning gave her peace of mind.

When I came to sit opposite Alfred he told me he had chosen to go to a Chapel Service instead of phoning me. This triggered off memories of the times when I had to accept second place when Church matters were involved in our lives. But now I could understand that other prisoners would have been disturbed if he had not been seen in Chapel. He was, after all, a clergyman. There was another unspoken reason: he needed that Service too. He also knew that I would be visiting him later that day.
He sat in Prison clothes because he had accepted a kind offer from a Warder to act as a laundress. Perhaps she broke some rules to do this. If so, good for her!
The biro messages on my hand had become smudged but they served their purpose of bringing Alfred news of the outside world.
Visitors were not allowed to bring any item in with them, not even a piece of paper, and no one had spotted my hidden list of reminders.
We drank some coffee before time was up. In circumstances like these it was not surprising that I spilt some on my white trousers. Good-bye to glamour!
There was a marked level of acceptance from the group of visitors as we stood together after the goodbye process, waiting for the Warder on duty to unlock the first set of doors leading to freedom. We stood fairly quietly. I was near the head of the queue. The Warder’s eyes focussed on me as he said clearly, " You were first yesterday." I did not like this attention very much. I suppose he was trained to notice details and he was being friendly.

Home is where the phone calls are! I picked up many messages. Andy, a journalist from a Luton Agency, phoned for an update. Later I was accused of being the source of leaking the news that Sylvia Hardy was due to visit Alfred on September 20th. This was correct. I seized every opportunity to highlight our cause.

Never before had I eaten Sunday dinner alone. I made the effort even though it was not strictly necessary and felt better for it.
When I spoke to Jake later I told him that Grandad had bought a packet of cards from the Prison shop so that he could play Patience. This was a game Jake had learned from him so I hoped it might help him to know how his Grandad was spending some of his time.

Christine phoned promptly at 5.30 p.m. for me to dictate my half of our article for the Church of England Newspaper. This took us an hour. The paper comes out on Wednesday. Mental note made to ask for a copy and for another the following week when there might be some reaction in the Letters page. The article is headed: "Why Prison?"(Christine’s effort) and " A Way Out " (my effort).

Finally, time to scan the Mail on Sunday. In it I find an amazing article by Peter Hitchens. The headline jumps out " Jailed - to feed Labour's vultures." He sets Alfred's experience in an historical context quoting John Hampden and the start of the American Civil War, moving to the present time when Council Tax might lead to similar happenings. He ends with a paragraph, " Like Soviet Russia in its final years, this country is on the brink of a series of catastrophes........."
A friend named Susan came to this conclusion some time ago. She would appreciate this writer.

12 September

ALFRED MONDAY 12TH SEPTEMBER

I saw myself on a News Programme. It must have been a regional programme on ITV, as the BBC tends to be too proper to refer to someone in prison or for holding out against the council tax. As soon as the doors of the cells were opened it was time for toast and tea bags etc. Other inmates told me they had seen it as well. I believed Una had been interviewed and they had shown a previous cutting. It is amazing. I thought it would be a one or two day wonder. If this goes on, we will have had a week of coverage.

I had delivered to me over 40 letters and cards of encouragement, complimenting me on my bravery. All the envelopes had been opened, as everything has to be censored. Some prison officer had to read them all.

If one is going to have a visit in the afternoon, a slim piece of paper is slid under the cell door during the night. There is no slip this morning, and I was not expecting a visit. Una had undertaken to arrange these visits, as she had made contact by phone with the proper authorities. She herself cannot come as she teaches her piano students on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons. But she has told me of a number of people who wish to do so, including the Suffragan Bishop of Brixworth who has oversight of the western half of the Diocese of Peterborough.
The Rural Dean of Towcester Deanery, also wishes to see me. The Rural Dean, Mike Burton, is Chairman of a group of Parishes round Towcester area. His own group of country parishes is a little closer to Northampton.
Another clergyman who wants to come is Tony Bryer, who is the Priest in Charge at Towcester. A Priest in Charge until a pastoral scheme comes about, when one or two more Parishes will be added to his collection, thus completing a new Benefice and he will then be called Vicar.
John Hall would also like to visit me. He was my successor at Blakesley, with Adstone, Maidford and Farthingstone. He is also a Priest in Charge until the Parish of Litchborough is added to the Benefice
John had been Assistant Curate in Towcester until he went to Blakesley. So over the next few weeks these will be entering the Visitor's Hall.

All is not lovely in the cell. It feels strange that when one's world is reduced a problem you could normally put right is not so easily put right in prison. Our television set is not receiving a good signal. The picture is spotted because we have an indoor aerial, and between us and the outer world are thick walls and wire fences which must interfere with the reception. The present aerial is stuck in a plastic bottle. To get it as high as possible we can rest it on the window sill.
I must also grumble about the food. There are plenty of potatoes and vegetables, but they are cooked in a separate prison kitchen, and trollied to the wing and reheated, so rather tired by the time they get to us. The food is very well served by the prisoners. However, I wish to lose a little weight, so I only have small portions.
Another thing I miss very much is not knowing the time. I did not bring my watch with me. I understood that I would have to hand it over when I processed on arrival. The only clock is in the office, and one can only see it when out on association. Otherwise one has to wait until the next activity is called out.

I soon become like so many of the inmates. I run out of tobacco. At night after bang-up there is a lot of banging on walls, or calling a cell number through the windows for cigarette papers, matches and tobacco. And if you have any of those you swing it on a make-shift rope until they get it. Or you can have a word with an inmate at meal times or association. I must say they are exceedingly kind to me in that way.

Usually in the mornings or early afternoons, there is exercise in the yard for nearly an hour. It is exactly like the films or TV if it includes a prison scene. You walk around the yard until you have had enough, and you can join any of the groups standing by the fences. When walking one can chat to others.
I chose to go to prison, and even if the courts sent them, the inmates have wives or girlfriends and children. They are very concerned about their welfare. Some of them took the opportunity to talk about these. I think just talking out loud helped them to come to terms with these worries, and I must say that I learned an awful lot about life I had not experienced. I found many of those from overseas had most need to talk. The friendliness of the black inmates did most for me. They would come up to me with big smiles and touch knuckles. As I have seen on TV, and talk about their wives and families. They seemed more able to accept their present situation. I think they were very curious about a clergyman preferring to come to prison rather than accepting this monstrous council tax system.



UNA - SEPTEMBER 12TH 2005

The information pack supplied from the reception desk at Her Majesty's Prison Woodhill, Milton Keynes was open at the page explaining how to arrange visits. The hardest part, when booking visits, was being patient when the phone lines were busy.
All visits had to be booked by phoning between 9a.m. -3p.m on Mondays to Thursdays and on Fridays the time limit was 2 p.m. I read that three visits could be booked at a time.
The information pack also said only if an inmate has put in a property application in advance of a visit, could any property be accepted. Now I could understand why it was taking so long for Alfred to receive his own clothes. He possibly did not know yet about the property application.
Money can only be received by sending cash in by recorded delivery, or cheques that take 14 days to clear. We had succeeded here and cash had been sent so that Alfred was able to use the canteen.
He never mastered the procedure for making phone calls. "Pin credits " could be bought from the canteen on his canteen day. He could have 20 personal numbers and 5 legal numbers, according to the rules.
I had no idea how easy it was for him to make phone calls or how many phones were available. People later sent him biros, writing paper and books of stamps“. Their thoughtfulness moved him very much.

’Others were keen to visit Alfred. I was trying to fix this week's visits this morning and feeling frustrated because phones were not being answered.
I had been waiting for the local Vicar to decide between Tuesday or Wednesday to visit Alfred and I knew the Rural Dean wanted to visit on Wednesday but I needed a definite decision before booking them in. At one point it looked as if three clergy were going to turn up together on Wednesday! Ideally one on each day would work well.
Phoning was not producing results. Frustration grew. I had waited three days to hear decisions.
I thought of another way to solve this. I went ahead and made the bookings for Wednesday before time ran out and left messages on their machines.
At the same time I made a booking for Thursday when a journalist from The Glasgow Herald who planned to interview Sylvia Hardy beforehand, was coming with me to the Prison.

When the phone rang a little later I was sorting out the post that had tumbled through the door. A voice said it was the Bishop of Peterborough. We had the following conversation:" How is Arnold?"
"That is not my husband's name, Bishop."
A short pause.... " Arthur?"
" You're not doing very well, Bishop."
Long pause.............." ALFRED!"
He went on to ask for Alfred's address to inform him that because of his imprisonment he contravened some ecclesiastical law, which threatened Alfred’s licence in being able to continue taking Services when asked. Bishop Cundy intended to recommend to the Archbishop of Canterbury that this should not happen.
I knew that it would be like a knife in his back if Alfred's Church life was changed in this way. With great care I suggested to the Bishop that his letter did not carry this news at the beginning of it, but figuratively would he put his arms round Alfred first of all to lessen the shock. On a stressful day he could be devastated. The Bishop agreed to be tactful and said he would send me a copy of his letter.
The difficulty the Bishop had with Alfred's name showed he had not prepared himself before making that phone call.
When he wrote to Alfred a week later he did better as his letter ended like this: " May I wish you and Una well as you both face the weeks ahead and reiterate my hope that the Government will listen and address the issue you have highlighted."

My daily letters to Mr. Blair continued. One was copied to the President of the European Parliament to let him know that Alfred's stance was being given high media coverage, and to remind him that in January or February 2006, Tony Constable and Brian Jay would be at the second Hearing in that Parliament to prove that our Council Tax is illegal.
Another letter included a quote from Peter Hitchin: " Mr Ridley has defied the law that really matters to this Government - the law that says you must pay your taxes however unjust they are. Such defiance is deeply dangerous."
I hope Mr Blair took notice of this!

At 1p.m., before the teaching session began, James Blatch from Look East, our local BBC TV news programme, called to interview me with his cameraman in tow. We went into the garden on this perfect September day. To his question about the Christian motive behind Alfred's action, I repeated Alfred's answer, the story of Zaccheus, found in the Gospels, that explained the situation. Jesus was keen that only the right amount of tax should be taken by tax collectors. Zaccheus, who was one, had robbed people unmercifully. After meeting Jesus he had a great change of heart and gave back what he had wrongly taken. That's what our tax system should be based on today, fair and honest takings from the people.
I mentioned the retired Baptist Minister, Mr R Armstrong from Clevedon, who wrote a letter to us saying that Alfred was "following the noble line of believers who suffered imprisonment for conscience - John Baptist, Jesus, Paul, Peter, Mandela, Huddleston, Luther-King. We salute you."
When watching the coverage later I was not surprised that this was left out.

During the evening I caught up with the phone calls. The first, I made to Bee who was 91 years old today. If I say she is the Mother May Queen of a John Ruskin tradition begun at Whitelands College, now moved to Roehampton, few would understand how special she is. Some people, mainly Whitelanders, would understand completely.

Among the wealth of letters and cards delivered today was one from our bridesmaid Katie Logan who, with her sister Kirstie, were such fun on our Wedding Day when they were little girls, and Holly of the Richard and Judy Show left a message saying they still wanted to interview us when Alfred comes out of prison.

It will be so good when Alfred is back with me and he can see, as I can, that in every part of our sitting room: window-sill, bookcase, tables, shelves, stand cards offering warm and strong support to both of us. They also give us the energy we need to live each day so that we make the most of our opportunities. I certainly never expected such abundant goodwill.

“The highlight of the day was the phone call from Christopher, Alfred's brother living in Busselden, Australia. His deep clear voice boomed across the airways right into my ear. We were both delighted to make contact after several attempts had been made by him. Immediately he wanted to know how Alfred was feeling and how very proud he was of his brother. He said, " I am very proud of him, “ over and over again sounding more and more emotional. Afterwards I felt so moved by Christopher’s enthusiasm that I knew that there would be no need to write a biro memo on my hand when I next saw Alfred. “

13 September

ALFRED - SEPTEMBER 13, 2005


I am thinking about those I have met and who have told me their stories. One has to remember that I only hear their story, and not the other side. I shall not mention their names as they have not given me permission to share them. They are three Romanians with whom I went to Chapel. The two younger ones were students and illegal immigrants. The older one was about to return for this fourth year at University. He was very concerned that he might not get back in time to start the year which would mean he would not finish the course, and maybe would not be allowed to. I asked him why he was in prison and not in an immigration centre. He let me understand that he had forged the papers. As yet he and his companions had not been to court, and he had not heard when this was likely to be. If a person is going to court they just seem to disappear. One day they are in prison and the next day they are just not there. I believe that they get a slip under the door, just like those who are going to get a visit. But in this case they are taken out of their cells at about 6 a.m. and then transported to court. On another occasion, I said to an inmate that I had missed him yesterday and he told me that he had gone to court.
As Woodhill Prison serves a large area from London up to Nottingham, prisoners may be heard anywhere within that area and kept in the court cells until their case is called.
Another Romanian, an older man between 40 and 50 years old, had been working as a waiter in Bedfordshire. He told me that he had come to England to support his elderly parents at home. In Romania since their Dictator had been overthrown, middle class people had suffered greatly. Their incomes had been greatly decreased and it was very hard to get reasonably well paid work. He could not keep his own family and his parents on what he earned in that country. What troubled him, now that he was in prison waiting for his court hearing, was that he could no longer send any money to either family. He was particularly upset because Romania would be entering the EU in a year or two.

An Italian, who had lived in England for a good number of years was in prison for a crime but he did not tell me what it was. However his sentence was soon coming to an end. Then one morning two police officers came for him at 6 a.m. and charged him with two other crimes. It was devastating to see how this affected him. Beforehand he had been a smiling, charming and friendly man. Now he seemed to have the weight of the world on his shoulders. There were several men who must have had bad news because they looked so sick.
To counteract these grim stories, two black men that I spoke to were into music, “rap and that”. They were performers and were an exuberant couple. During a social period one afternoon, one came up to me and said he was going out tomorrow. “At 6 p.m. man, I am off!”
Many of the inmates seem to have been to several prisons and knew which ones were better than others. I do not know in which way they were better or worse. Others have been to a prison or two. Many, and maybe most prisoners, will not stay at Woodhill for the whole of their sentence. Their local prison could be too full to take them. But if their crime is a lesser one, that does not require them to serve their time in a category A high security prison, they may be sent to one closer to home when there is a vacancy.

I received 129 letters and cards today. It took me three hours to read them all and I finished at 9 p.m. Many people, and not only pensioners, are suffering from the burden placed on them by the abusive council tax. They all say they approve of the stand I am making and hope it will get through to the Government to do something about it. Some sent me copies of their letters to Blair and his wife, who is a Human Rights Lawyer, as well as to Prescott and their own M.P.s.

I shall have to ask for a bag in which to put the 200 letters and cards I have received so far.



UNA - SEPTEMBER 13TH 2005

Because we had failed to get fresh clothes and money for Alfred to spend at the Prison shop, on Joel's suggestion I put postal orders in the post worth £20. I had enclosed a covering letter but had left the postal orders blank. As soon as possible I phoned the Prison because I noticed that the Information Pack advised name and Prison number to be written on the postal orders, which had not done. It was important to see if they had reached Alfred, and to check if clothes due in the next day would be accepted this time. All this was checked and verified very easily and left me feeling relieved that there were no real problems. This contact with Prison staff proved again their readiness to help.

Today's post brought another big pile of letters and cards. Among them was a newspaper cutting from The Times showing two letters in support of Alfred's stance. They showed real understanding of his motive for being where he is. One of them I quoted in today's letter to Mr Blair from Mr Bernard Parke from Guildford, Surrey: " Sir, The council tax is perhaps the most unfair tax in our history.
Today many householders are living in properties that have appreciated greatly in value. These homes have been paid for over many years, from income that has itself been heavily taxed, to provide a haven for the purchaser and as a means of helping their offspring in later life.
Now the Government is considering a plan to allow this tax to be deferred until the householder dies when local government will step in and take its pound of flesh. The robber barons of old could never have thought up such an unjust scheme".

Christine Melsom phoned in to check that all was well.
Today was special. The Ashes had been won by England's cricketers and London was celebrating. On the ropey TV that Alfred shared with his cellmate, he was probably seeing more than I did!

Neasa MacErlean from The Observer was writing an article about Alfred and phoned to make arrangements to collect a photo of both of us together. It was easier to agree and much harder to find such a photo. The only one in our collection had been taken together was on King Charles' Bridge in Prague some years ago. An alternative could be separate photos with the same background, the Eden Project, also from some time back. The reporter thought this could work by having these each side of her article to emphasise our present separation. I was to expect the photos to be hand collected later.

Clive Lewis, a BBC TV reporter, phoned while I rustling up some lunch, to ask for an exclusive interview when Alfred left Prison. He let me know that the Leader of South Northants Council, Sandra Barnes, was publicly disagreeing with the Council Officers over their statement about remitting our Debt. This was the second time I had heard of her doing this. I decided to write to her for an explanation.

During the day the Richard and Judy Show made contact about their future interview with us, a local reporter wanted to visit Alfred, and Christian Gysin from the Daily Mail text me to say he had given our address to an old friend of ours who had written to him asking to send on her letter. This was Joy Wootton coming back in our lives from the time we had lived in Prittlewell. I felt moved that she had made this effort and looked forward to reading her letter.

Later, after the afternoon teaching session, I was pleased to hear my daughter Anne's voice chatting about other things. She had interrupted her letter writing to her Dad to say that Christmas was going to be a working time for her this year. Her plan at half term was to drive from Devon with Jake and spend time here. Really something to look forward to, because Alfred's time in Prison would be over. He would be home!

The biggest shock of the day was Joel's dramatic entrance at 7p.m. He was dancing on one leg on the patio trying to get through the door. He had slipped at work and damaged his foot but managed somehow to drive himself home, from Thame in Buckinghamshire to Towcester in Northamptonshire. He was now in obvious pain but not keen to go any further. The bag of frozen peas treatment helped to keep the swelling down. After an exhausting day neither of us had much energy to go anywhere. We decided that an early start in the morning to the A&E Department at Northampton General Hospital to have a proper check, was the best thing to do’.