Sometimes all you can do is just try and count the little victories that life gives you.
Little Victories.
Remember school? Can you recall what it was like walking in on that first day of primary school, not having a clue what was what or who was who? But over the years you climb the alpha pole and then, for that final year you were one of the big kids, looking down on the little babies and made up with how far you had come. Then came secondary school and the whole thing started all over again. Well prison is like that.
You land in the prison, or even just move wings and you have to suss out who’s who and what’s what. You’re on the wrong end of the totem pole and usually in a shit-hole of a cell with little or no furniture.
Some people try to improve their circumstances by exerting their dominance over others with displays of aggression or violence. Some formed gangs and strut around in packs. Some scream at the prison staff while others use smuggled steroids to bulk up. All are coping strategies and most are covering underlying fears and insecurities.
I was older when I came to prison and didn’t really have any interest in dominating anything. It also helps that I’m 6 foot and not skinny – nine times out of 10 there is an easier target than me. For me, I just try to persevere and look for little victories each day.
I started in the shithole cell. I quietly suss out if anybody is due for release or transfer any time soon. If so, I sorted that I can move cells when they go. Little victory.
Then, in my slightly less shithole cell I make some changes. Get some paint. Get a remote control for my TV. Sort a new mattress. Get a locker that has working drawers in it. Get a proper chair with a cushioned seat. All of these little victories improve one’s station and help to pass the time. Over the years I’ve inherited the odds and sods that I need.
I’ll generally help anybody that I can. If a decent lad needs help writing a letter or preparing representations, I have no problem giving them my time. I never take payment, it’s just decent to be decent. On occasion, when lands are getting released they will leave something that is almost useless on the outside, but has a value in here. Over the years I’ve been gifted clothes, mugs and all sorts of bits and pieces. I was once gifted a PlayStation 2 console which I passed on to somebody else – I guess I must be the only prisoner who doesn’t lie in bed playing video games all day – sorry to disappoint you Daily Mail readers! These few possessions served to make life a bit better in prison. Little victories.
But like moving school, one can move wings or prisons and end up starting from the bottom again. I only mention this because I had what may have been my final little victory in my current establishment, a culmination of some 5 years work. It is not about being the alpha on the wing. It’s not about being the first in the servery queue. It’s not that I am running the wing shop. Nope, it’s far more mundane than that.
Saturday night & Sunday morning laundry slots! Boom!
Each of the 40 lads in our wing starts with one washing slot per week. Due to time constraints the average man gets a maximum 40° wash which has to cover everything. But there are 7 days in a week and therefore, there are 7 overnight slots available – without time constraints. Never in my life did I think that I would measure my prestige in terms of having a 90° boil wash – but I do. So on Saturday night I boil the shit out of my bedding and towels. You might think in excessive – but don’t forget that they are used by a hardened criminal – God alone knows what he might have!
Then on Sunday morning I wash the rest of my clothes and enjoy a yoga stretch while the machine is running. In these Covid times it has probably been the one thing that helps me to mark the transition of one week into the next.
