Right then, this is it, we're going in.
I'd spent the weekend in the local police cells. They were uncomfortable and you only left the cell half an hour per day so I read a few shitty Jack Reacher novels they had there (how the fuck did Tom Cruise get that role?) Of course you are pretty much devoid of possessions at the point of entry into prison. You'd been thoroughly searched in the police cells, including shaking your genitals and leaning forward and spreading your arse-cheeks for the officers. Nevertheless I went through another strip search on arrival. Next you meet the nurse and get a basic look over and get heavily encouraged to have a hep-b shot, yeah er, no, I don't plan on any needles or bum sex, cheers anyway. You sign many forms agreeing to this and that, covering their arses should some tragedy befall you.
After a good few hours they take you in. Through maybe 6 locked gates with a few wandering inmates (always accompanied by officers) eyeing you up and not being shy about asking what you're in for. The nerves were hitting me at this point. I was holding up ok, I wasn't shaking or showing emotion outwardly, but it was a tense moment for sure. All the shit on those forms and the questions and the clanking of huge iron doors, the frosty guards and the rough looking inmates I'd seen, it all added to the atmosphere.
I get to the gates of my wing and am taken to my cell. There's no inmates around, they're on lock up. My memory is hazy about timings and stuff so I have to wing little things, you'll forgive me I'm sure. I know I had barely seen anyone and certainly hadn't had a conversation with any inmates by the time my cell was opened for lunch. I think this was the most nervous point of my entire time in prison. I had no idea what kind of people were in here or how things were set up. I went to get my lunch and was only a few behind the front of the queue. I got furtive looks from everyone. I saw later how interesting new faces were when every day was the fucking same.
I took my lunch and sat on a random table in the centre of the wing. There were 2 sides with 2 floors, around 40 cells in all, and then a big open space in between with a pool table and tables and chairs for meals. As I sat eating whatever bland and nutrient-deficient meal I had in front of me, 2 guys came and sat beside me and in front of me. Each set was 4 chairs attached to a table so there was no room for sitting apart. This is our table mate, are you nicking our table? The guy was large built, big gut, broad shoulders, he has short silver hair and a wonky eye. the guy across form me was laughing. He was big too but more athletic. He has black wavy hair and a cheeky grin, he's a brummie. They were both around 10 years my senior. No mate, just eating my dinner. What you've got there? Erm macaroni cheese. Don't you like lasagna? I'm vegetarian. They both start laughing. Veggie eh, what are you in for? I outline briefly why I'm there and they take a moment to digest it. Fucking Veggie Kray. They both laugh hysterically and I join them. Veggie Kray became my name during my entire stay there, even to some officers. And these 2 guys turned out to be fucking hilarious and became my great friends.
My nerves were settled. I had these guys, Peeler and Ian as an 'in'. I could ask everything I needed to know. I had someone to eat with, play chess with, have a laugh with. And these guys were 2 of the biggest fuckers in there and turns out the most well respected too. But for the most part you are on your own, literally I mean. You are locked up between 18 and 20 hours most days. I had my own cell and could read, write, and watch TV. You have a kettle, a toilet and a bed. And of course you have your thoughts.
It took a little while for me to settle and in these times of coming to terms with not seeing my kids, my family, my friends, there came waves of sadness. The sadness wasn't for me, they were waves of deep guilt for who I had been and how this was affecting those that loved me. I had been blindly and selfishly chasing money and neglecting the feelings of others. This empathy was fairly recently new to me, and along with it came something much deeper. I found a compassion I had never had before. I wept at night for the suffering of the men I saw in there. Some of these men were so fucked, so depressed, in so much pain. It was hard to see. It was hard not to suffer with them.
But also I was grateful. I had hope these men weren't able to muster. I had loving family and friends, these men did not. I had brains and health, emotional and physical. I knew one day I would walk out of here and make my life better because I had it in my power to do so. I was so grateful for that. I still am.
This deserves a small mention before the next part; The first album I bought and listened to in there was Lazeretto by Jack White. I had never heard it before it was new at the time. Just listen to the lyrics of the title track (remember I was in prison on the Isle of Man) and you will see why I may have felt I was meant to be where I was, and why I replayed it to make sure I'd heard right, and why I laughed and cried.
To be continued....
