Waking up was tough – well not the cessation of sleep bit, that was a piece of piss and I’d been doing that for years. Rather, waking up in a proper prison cell again – ouch!
In Open Prison I’d wake in my Pod and get ready for work. I was usually up at 5-30am, coffee, shower & breakfast. At 6-30am I’d leave my pod and unlock my bike before heading to reception. Check in with the kangas and get my ROTL book (Release on Temporary Licence) then head to my locker and grab my mobile phone and wallet before cycling 10 miles to work. I had done that for almost two years before I got recalled. This morning I had woken up and it took less than a second (which felt like blissful ignorance) to realise that I was no longer in Open Prison. My knee banged the wall (said wall was on the wrong side) and my hips ached from the metal bedframe cutting through the butter thin mattress. I had smuggled a 4″ mattress topper into Open Prison and had been accustomed to sleeping on a cloud!
But as quickly as I realised my predicament I decided to be OK with it. Big Boy Pants were hitched up and I was ready to go! But the prison was not. I waited 5 hours until the door to my cell was unlocked at 10-30am by a Kanga who welcomed me with one word – ‘Induction’. Well here we go again. I trundled along with another 6 new arrivals to a sweaty room with mismatched chairs. There were two prisoners waiting for us, wearing their peer mentor t-shirts and looking very officious. I smiled inwardly – in Walton I had been that guy for 3 years – I guess I inducted in excess of 8,000 lads in that time. I could have been disruptive and condescending – and a 10 year ago version of me probably would have needed to show off, but new me grabbed a table at the back of the room and listened to their wisdom. When it came to the paperwork, I was reminded of my inductions when the lads started protesting about having to fill in basic forms. The aggression went from 0-100, tables were shoved, promises and threats made. In my experience most of these protests would be down to poor literacy, some lads would have undiagnosed learning difficulties while some would never have been parented or schooled. Guys would be embarrassed and defensive. As a mentor I supported so many guys – but on this day I wasn’t a mentor. Fuck them. I chose not to engage, filled in the forms, handed them over and sat back.
One of the mentors came over and started offering me advice – I nodded and said zero, zilch – Nada! When I wasn’t engaging the questions came – Where had I come from? What was I in for? How long had I got?
More than a decade earlier, during my first time through the induction process I was scared and overwhelmed. The noise, the aggression, the smell. I didn’t realise there was a distinction between professional paid staff and mentor prisoners. My first time in prison I was desperate to connect, like a drowning man grabbing at anything. I was trusting and overshared – which saw some people take advantage. But this mentor had run into a battle scarred veteran.
“You’re a prisoner right?” I asked him. He nodded. “Then you don’t need to know.” Firm, but polite. He was taken aback – where I wanted him I guess. The others in the room noticed too. The mentor persisted, “I’m only trying to be friendly mate.”
“I get that you’re being friendly – and fair play to you. But I’m not here to make friends – just passing through. If I need anything, I’ll ask.” I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes – it told him that we were done and the rest of the room – well the room could draw whatever inference it wanted, but I knew that different drew caution, so people would likely leave me alone.
When I returned to my cell I felt galvanised – resilient. I’ve done this before – in Walton prison! The Mount was a cake walk by comparison. Not only was I at peace with being recalled to closed conditions – I was embracing it! I felt like nothing could hurt me, unless I allowed it to. I saw an opportunity to take stock and re-evaluate – while I might be experiencing a setback, it was merely that – a setback. I would achieve parole one day. I would be living back in the community. I realised I had an opportunity to take some time and decide who I was going to be. But I knew right then that I was going to be OK!
