A Prison Diary Part 18

It's being reported on the evening news that Clinton attempted to do the same thing when he was president but couldn't get Congress to back him.

Nothing worth watching on television, so I return to the works of Shakespeare. Tonight, King Lear. If only the Bard had experienced a few months in prison...

DAY 72 FRIDAY 28 SEPTEMBER 2001

9.00 am

Gym. It's my weekly session with the special needs group.

I now have my own little cla.s.s - Alex, Robbie, Les and Paul.

We begin on the rower before moving across to the running machine, and this week I ask them all to try sit-ups. A new challenge. Alex and Robbie manage ten, while Les and Paul find it difficult to do more than five. But at least they now have a weekly target.

12 noon Lunch looks disgusting, so I don't bother. I have a visit today so I can supplement my diet from the canteen.

2.00 pm Fortnightly visit. This Friday, my three visitors are my son Will and two of my dearest friends, Chris Beetles and G.o.dfrey Barker. I've decided to allocate the first half hour to Will, followed by twenty minutes with Chris, then another twenty with G.o.dfrey and then a final session with all three.

Will starts by telling me about a call he received during the journey to Wayland telling him that the KPMG accountants had just come out of a meeting with the police, and had left them in no doubt that I was never involved with the collecting or distribution of any Simple Truth money donated to the Red Cross. Will goes on to say that he can't believe I'll still be at Wayland this time next week.

Will's next piece of news is that he has a new girlfriend, but as he's returning to America on Thursday, he can't be sure if it's going anywhere. I'm disappointed. I can't waitto be a grandfather. The rest of Will's news is domestic, and after thirty minutes, he makes way for Chris.

Chris appears with a toasted cheese and tomato sandwich -quite the finest delicacy I've eaten for the past seventy days. I'm still not quite sure how he managed it.

I begin by briefing Chris on Shaun (forgery) and the sketches he's working on for this diary. As Shaun will be released in three weeks' time, I've asked him to visit Chris at the gallery and present his portfolio. Chris explains that there's a recognized fee for the reproduction of an artist's work, but if I want to purchase the originals, he will happily negotiate a fair price.

We go on to discuss Botero. Chris feels that as the great man has such an international following the chance of picking up a cheap original, even if Sergio does know Botero's mother, seems unlikely. I accept his judgment, but still feel it's possible Sergio might surprise us. Chris shrugs his shoulders. When he changes the subject to Tottenham Hotspur, I quickly replace him with G.o.dfrey.

G.o.dfrey brings me a second cheese and tomato sandwich, not toasted this time.

G.o.dfrey is a distinguished art critic, academic and a friend of twenty years' standing. We discuss an important matter concerning Mr Justice Potts and a dinner G.o.dfrey and his wife Ann attended a couple of years ago, when the judge made remarks about me which, if true, I believe should have disqualifed him from presiding over my case. G.o.dfrey needs to check his diaries before he can confirm the exact evening the supper took place, and the reasons why Sir Humphrey made the remarks he did. G.o.dfrey promises to keep Mary informed. Ann Barker serves on the Parole Board, and another member of the Parole Board was also present at the dinner. Thank G.o.d for friends who believe in justice.

The final session spent with all three of them is great fun, not least because Will brings me another cheese and tomato sandwich. I didn't have lunch, and now I needn't bother with supper. G.o.dfrey tells me that he believes IDS can win the next election. Chris pours scorn on the idea, and is happy to stake a Mars bar on Blair, who he believes has hardly put a foot wrong since September 1 lth.

'Let's see what he looks like in a year's time,' counters G.o.dfrey.

I can only wonder where I'll be in a year's time...The call for visitors to leave comes all too soon, and I am painfully reminded how much I enjoy the company of old friends.

When I leave to return to my cell, I am stopped and made to suffer the humiliation of a strip-search. Two junior officers obviously think it will be fun to tell their friends at the pub tonight that they made Lord Archer take all his clothes off. Good heavens, they discover I have a p.e.n.i.s just like other inmates. It spoils what had been a better day.

However, their pettiness is not typical of the majority of officers at Wayland.

6.00 pm Jimmy is back from four days of home leave - this is allowed for non-parole prisoners who have served a third of their sentence. Jimmy's sentence was three and a half years, mine four. Mr Justice Potts understood the difference only too well. Jimmy says he can't wait to get a good night's sleep. He's had s.e.x with two women in the past forty-eight hours; one stupid but s.e.xy, the other an undergraduate who likes telling her friends she's sleeping with a convict. He can't decide which of them to commit to when he's released in three weeks' time. Darren offers him sage advice: If you can't choose between them, neither can be right.'

10.00 pm For the first time since September 1 lth the lead story on the Ten O'Clock News does not come from the other side of the Atlantic. It still involves terrorists, but this time the report comes from Northern Ireland. I wonder how long the problems of Osama bin Laden will remain paramount, as one can't help remembering that Saddam Hussein is still on the loose...

I switch off the news, and continue my Shakespearean marathon by turning to Richard II.

DAY 73 SAt.u.r.dAY 29 SEPTEMBER 2001

9.00 am

Jimmy now wants to escape. He's due to be released in three weeks' time, but those four days on the outside have given him a taste for freedom. He has no intention of returning to jail. It was Jimmy's first offence, and he swears it will be his last. I have come to admire the way the Prison Service, the probation officers and the parole board are able to a.s.sess which prisoners are likely to reoffend and which are not. They probably make mistakes, which willguarantee them unflattering headlines wishing they had chosen an easier profession. But let's at least be thankful someone's willing to do the job.

1130 am During exercise Darren tells me about a prisoner who's been shipped out this morning at short notice. It seems that he was fast becoming the No. 1 drug dealer for the prison, and was happy to exchange his wares - cannabis, cocaine and heroin -for phonecards or tobacco. However, a problem arose because the drug baron on C block was only willing to supply his stock for cash, paid into a private bank account on the outside.

Let me remind you how this works. Prisoners will instruct a friend or relative during visits (they consider the phone or letters too risky) to place money into an account of an a.s.sociate of the prison drug dealer, who then supplies the gear.

When the drug baron on C block found his customers were moving their business to the new boy on B block because he didn't require cash, something drastic needed to be done.

Yesterday, while his rival was in the gym, he paid two other inmates (cleaners) on B block to torch his cell. Result, the prisoner whose cell was torched was immediately transferred to another gaol. This means that the drug baron on C block is able to continue his evil trade and will be released in a few weeks' time supported by a healthy bank balance.

8.00 pm There is rarely anything worth watching on TV on a Sat.u.r.day night, so I finish off Richard II - or to be more accurate, an a.s.sa.s.sin finishes off the poor fellow. I last saw the play performed at the Barbican with Sam West in the t.i.tle role. I had been looking forward to his Hamlet at Stratford, but it was not to be.

DAY 74 SUNDAY 30 SEPTEMBER 2001

8.00 am

I call Mary to be told that the police are dropping their enquiry having not even bothered to interview me. Mary is thinking of writing to Baroness Nicholson and demanding an apology. I tell her it's a waste of time as Nicholson has neither the grace nor the decency to admit she made a false accusation. Ms Nicholson is a wealthy woman. It would be a n.o.ble gesture on her part were she to cover KPMG's costs, rather than leave the Red Cross to foot the bill.Mary goes on to discuss a conversation she's had with G.o.dfrey. He a.s.sured her that he is aware of the importance of any affidavit he might sign, and the effect it would have on my appeal. She also confirms that she is flying to Washington on Thursday, and hopes that by the time she returns the following Tuesday, I will have been moved to an open prison.

1030 am Chapel. The prison has appointed a new chaplain. His name is Nick Tivey and, from his accent, I can only a.s.sume he hails from somewhere in the north of these islands. He looks around thirty, and tells me that he's served in two parishes as a priest, before becoming a prison chaplain.

His sermon, or chat, to the inmates is very informal, and more effective for that. His theme is how Jesus despised the Pharaohs (bigwigs) and much preferred to mix with the sinners (us). Applause breaks out among his congregation of seventeen (nine black, eight white), which has doubled since I last attended chapel. He must be doing something right if it's only his second week.

8.00 pm I begin to read The Tempest and am reminded of John Wood's consummate performance as Prospero at Stratford.

We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep But not tonight, because Shane (GBH, gym orderly) has his TV full on while he watches the Sunday-night boxing. He likes to join in by offering his opinion on each bout, sometimes each punch, at the top of his voice. 'p.r.i.c.k' and 'w.a.n.ker' are his more repeatable expletives. The boxing ends at 12.35 am, so I must have fallen asleep sometime after that.

DAY 75

MONDAY 1 OCTOBER 2001

8.15 am

I mention to Shane that he must have kept most of the spur awake until after one o'clock, to which he replies, 'Let's face it, Jeff, I'm a f.u.c.kin' yob, and you'll just have to f.u.c.kin' well learn to live with it.'

9.00 am Pottery. One prisoner knocks the trunk off another inmate's elephant and all h.e.l.l breaks loose. A lot of oaths are uttered as the two of them face up for a fight, while the lifers goad them on. Anne disappears into the next room, andit's some time before peace is restored. I discover later that both inmates involved are due to be released in a few weeks' time, and neither would have wanted their sentence extended. The lifers glower, disappointed by the lack of action.

When the atmosphere returns to near normal, I suggest to the two lads that perhaps they both owe Anne (our teacher) an apology. Two older prisoners, both lifers, look on to see how the youngsters will react. They immediately disappear into the next room and say sorry to Anne. She looks surprised. The lifers nod in my direction. I make no excuses for these two louts'

behaviour, but how many of us realize just how lucky we are not to have been subjected to an upbringing where violence, bad language and crime are the norm?

3.00 pm Three members of the Board of Visitors come to see me.

They've heard I'm leaving in the near future, and I wanted a chance to chat to them. The BoV are all unpaid volunteers who give service without a great deal of thanks as both sides of the iron door are sceptical about their usefulness. Almost all the prisoners describe them as a complete waste of s.p.a.ce, with the usual adjective attached. This isn't actually fair; because these volunteers have brought about many improvements to prison life over the years, and only last year convinced Jack Straw (Home Secretary at the time) to change his mind on a major decision that affected Wayland.

I suggest to them that perhaps they should appear more often in the exercise yard. Once prisoners get used to seeing them strolling around, they may well come up and have a chat, and that might give inmates more confidence in them. We then discuss several contentious issues, in particular, the daily gripe about being banged up early on a Sat.u.r.day, Sunday and Monday, when we are incarcerated for fourteen hours at a stretch. They point out the problem of staff shortages. No one likes to admit that there are only four officers on our wing at weekends. Officers at Wayland are currently owed 4,000 hours of overtime between them, and I doubt if it's much different in any other prison.

DAY 76

TUESDAY 2 OCTOBER 2001

9.00 am

The new probation officer asks to see me. Once I'vesettled in his office, he explains that he's only going through the motions because if I move to a D-cat in the near future I won't be seeing him again. When he learns that I'm appealing against both conviction and sentence, the meeting comes to an abrupt halt, and I am sent back to my cell.

12 noon I phone Alison to discover that Tony Morton-Hooper has faxed Mr Carlton-Boyce (governor in charge of movement) with my preferences for a D-cat: Latchmere House, Richmond Spring Hill, Buckinghamshire Ford, Suss.e.x Stamford Hill, Kent They all sound like minor public schools.

I know that they are unlikely to allow me to transfer to Latchmere House as I don't fulfil their criteria, and Ford has already turned me down on the grounds that they couldn't handle the press interest. The inmates who have been to Stamford Hill tell me it's full of young crackheads who will drive me to an early grave. I expect therefore to end up at Spring Hill, which Mr Meanwell has recommended all along.

3.00 pm The SO (senior officer) on duty calls me in for a private word. It seems that two prisoners on C block have complained to the governor that I was seen wearing a tracksuit top during exercise, a privilege enjoyed only by enhanced prisoners. He will therefore have to search my cell for the offending article, but he's rather busy at the moment, so he won't be able to do so for another thirty minutes.

The offending article is a cream Adidas top, bequeathed to me by Sergio on the day he was deported. I return to my cell and hand the top to Darren. After I've told him about the interview, he calls in Jimmy, and between them they give my cell a thorough going over. They also remove one bedside lamp, one tin opener and a yellow check blanket, all of which I have acquired during the past month, and am not ent.i.tled to unless enhanced.

The SO arrives thirty minutes later, accompanied by another officer and together they search my cell. They reappear fifteen minutes later, declaring my cell to be clean.

I later learn that the two prisoners from C block who made the complaint are lifers - both in for murder. Envy in prisons is every bit as prevalent as it is on the outside.

7.00 pm I call Sergio in Bogota and take advantage of the 7 lefton his phonecard. The news is not good. None of my bids for the Boteros has been accepted. Chris Beetles turned out to be right - knowing the artist's mother is of no significance when dealing with a painter of international reputation.

'Offer $500,000 for The Card Players,' is my immediate response. There is a long silence before Sergio admits. It's already been sold for $900,000.' Beep ... beep ... beep ...

seconds to go. Tm sorry, Jeffrey, I'll keep trying to find you a ...'

I've never heard from Sergio since.

DAY 77 WEDNESDAY 3 OCTOBER 2001