<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I had been warned about volumetric control enforcement \u2013 there were to be strict limits on what I could take with me when I transferred prisons, which amounted to Three bags (max weight 15kg), and one \u2018Oversize\u2019 item. Only Legal paperwork was to be exempt. I can\u2019t say that I was that concerned to be fair \u2013 I was moving to Open Conditions, I\u2019d have made the move in the altogether if I had to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In the final days before my scheduled transfer I began to whittle away at my possessions \u2013 much to the joy of my friends and neighbours. As a prisoner, and especially a lifer, there is a tendency to hoard things when they become available. It\u2019s not as if you can just pop down to the shops to grab something you need \u2013 I was loathe to let anything pass me by \u2013 God alone knew when I would need it. But after the first cull I was still nowhere near meeting my allowance \u2013 I had to cut deeper. Once I started it actually became quite a cathartic process.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I had bundles of applications and correspondence with various prison departments, including references, certificates, qualifications and a decade of letters to and from my offender managers. In an increasingly digital world, the prison system still works on paper. Throughout my sentence I had gathered them like Super Mario collects coins and zealously guarded them as the treasures I would be exchanging for my eventual progress. Then it hit me, I have a piece of paper from the secretary of state approving my progression. What had been precious items were no longer of value \u2013 they were merely pieces of paper. It was time to move on \u2013 when I had finished shredding paper I had shaved about 10kg off my property ballast and created enough bedding for a hamster army.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That was the beginning of the catharsis, I started to get ruthless. I haven\u2019t worn it for 6 months \u2013 gone. I haven\u2019t seen that in ages \u2013 gone. My MP3 player has all of my music \u2013 CD\u2019s gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I could accommodate my clothes, bedding, one cup, one plate, coffee and porridge oats within my three bag allowance. My condensed legal paperwork fit in one small box and I was left in a quandary \u2013 what do I choose as my oversize item? Really it boiled down to my stereo or my Open University coursework. I could have asked for the coursework to be posted on afterwards \u2013 but I was worried that it could be lost or delayed. I really couldn\u2019t afford to have a delay or break in my study so the stereo was jettisoned \u2013 you\u2019re welcome Sully!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The night before my move I cleared everything else \u2013 all of the tins of food, the spices and containers I had spent a decade accumulating. Instead of being sad about what I was losing I focused on what I would gain in my new prison. I did take some pleasure when the smiling snakes that I had no relationship with tried to pick the carcass by offering best wishes on my move. Gave them nothing, just said \u2018Speak to Big Willy \u2013 he\u2019s getting everything when I leave, if he doesn\u2019t want it I\u2019m sure you will get it!\u2019 I smiled inwardly, knowing that would piss Big Willy right off \u2013 and you\u2019re welcome! It will be about 6 months before he follows me to open conditions, I\u2019m about 83% sure he will have cooled off by then.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So Thursday morning at 730 am I strip my bed, shower and brush my teeth for (what I hope will be) the last ever time in HMP Erlestoke. Shortly after 8 I get the nod to bring my gear to reception, everything is loaded into the trolley and I head off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAll seems to be going to plan, Mr B assures me.\u201d I had been concerned that any number of things could go wrong. There could be a Covid outbreak in either prison, the sweat box could break down, and there could be security concerns anywhere. Thankfully there appeared to be no drama and I unloaded my trolley, pointing out that I had given away a tonne of stuff to stay within my volumetric control.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThere are only 4 of you going on a 6 seater bus, you could have brought as much as you wanted!\u201d Mr B helpfully informed me. To highlight this exact point, as the first of my travelling companions appeared I genuinely thought he had brought two or three peoples possessions. There was no quibble from the staff \u2013 the bags were checked and tagged, ready for transport. I wasn\u2019t too bothered, as I thought about the things that I had left behind, there was nothing that I was really sad about \u2013 nothing that I couldn\u2019t live without and ultimately, nothing that couldn\u2019t be readily replaced.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At about 10-30 the sweat box arrived and we formed a chain to load our gear on board before were each locked into our cubicles. It was so casual, none of the hand-cuffing rigmarole that had preceded every other journey, I guess it was recognition that we were going to open conditions. At 11-15 we pulled off and I saw the inside of the prison for the last time. After the final checks we passed through the gate of Erlestoke prison just before midday.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The journey was pretty much unremarkable \u2013 aside from one act of recognition by a fellow motorist. As I mentioned before, sweatboxes seem to be invisible at times. Before prison I had never paid them any attention as the passed me by. While I have been a passenger I have never really seen anybody paying attention to my passing \u2013 until now. We were on the inside lane of a dual carriageway when a navy blue Ford focus estate overtook us. But as the car came alongside, the passenger turned to the side and looked up at my window. They smiled and waved excitedly before their car speed off. This act gladdened my heart \u2013 and to the passenger I say thank you. I\u2019ve made a note of your registration number, and under the unwritten code of the sweatbox, ancient charter of the highway and made up traditions, I look forward to crashing on your couch when I get my parole!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I had been warned about volumetric control enforcement \u2013 there<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[30,247,352],"class_list":["post-999","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prison","tag-a-prisoners-life","tag-life-in-prison","tag-prison"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/jailhousemoose.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/999","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/jailhousemoose.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/jailhousemoose.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jailhousemoose.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jailhousemoose.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=999"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/jailhousemoose.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/999\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/jailhousemoose.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=999"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jailhousemoose.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=999"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jailhousemoose.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=999"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}