Open Writing

Bearing in mind where we were, the food was pretty
good. We had a choice of a combination of foods
plus extra if we needed. In that department we were
treated OK, as well we needed to be.
After that we were allowed to mix with the other
cons for a whole hour. I eventually got to know a
few lads from various parts of the country, some
decent some bad and one or to as mad as myself
and my brothers.

We had to lie in silence and were
allowed to go to the toilet only once during the
night. It didn’t take me long to get a note from the
doctor for a weak bladder and believe me it came
in handy all times of day or night.

The next morning we were up at six o’clock, into our gym kit
and out to the boundary fence at double time and
made to run what turned out to be around six
miles. Then we had to do a circuit of the assault
course, which I may add was rejected by the army
at Catterick Barracks, as they were afraid the
soldiers could injure or possibly kill themselves. But
once again we had to beat our collective time, and
the last person was to blame for any delay. So, as
you could imagine, his life wasn’t happy.

We were allowed to shower, return to the dorm and get
changed for work then report to the dining room,
after grace we were allowed to sit, then in order of
row go for our breakfast, and believe me it was
always well received. After breakfast the newcomers
had to report to the Governor's office on the
double where we were told the rules and our
earliest date of release. The rules were simple:
“You will do exactly as you are ordered to without
question and do not think for yourself cause if you
possibly could you wouldn’t be here! And
remember that you will never be able to physically
or mentally be able to beat myself, my staff or the
Government so don’t even try or you will lose. That
much I can guarantee.”.

The regime was strict; it was not rare for an inmate
to swallow a broken-up
razor blade in an attempt to kill himself, or to
swallow a bar of soap to show he had massive
ulcers in his system to get out to the hospital to
relieve the hardness of the regime.

The rest of the
day we were working in various areas of the centre,
on the farm or laundry or maybe cleaning duties
etc. Dinner, then work, then gym or run and assault
course. Then tea. Only then were we allowed to mix
with the others and then bed at eight, which of
course we always looked forward to as it was our
chance for psychological escape. I used lie and
work out which way I could beat the system or
retaliate some little idiot trying to score points off
me, as I wouldn’t let anyone get away with
anything, even if it took years to do it.

I used the chapel services on Sunday mornings
as well for a chance to arrange various crimes with
one or two of the lads after we were discharged.
Plus a chance of peace, plus the lady that played
the organ - one of those with foot pedals - could play a
mean rock-and-roll version of all the hymns, which
gave all of us a piece of God and a short period of
happy escapism.

The weekly preachers were so in
tune with God that whatever the service it went
straight over our heads. I feel it a shame we
weren’t encouraged to read or study the Bible, but
to people like us it would probably be a waste of
time as we were big tough men. As maybe one or
more of us would have left the centre and led a
Christian life, which in turn could have helped
other people and almost certainly their children and
so on. But I must say that this is with knowledge of
hindsight.