I'll keep this brief as I'm heading back to the land of make believe in two hours. I'm sitting here smiling out of sheer incredulousness. I've fought for nearly a year to be allowed to reside in what HMP Northern Ireland calls semi-open conditions and had to resort to Judicial Review which fell in my favour in April. I am still not there nor will i be.
The main reason given for my latest alleged impropriety was that i brought the Home Leave system/Resettlement process into disrepute at Christmas when during a curfew check i made a passing inference to the attending PSNI officer that I didn't smoke, didn't drink, didn't take drugs and have passed over fifty (approx) drugs tests in prison. This was pounced upon by the people in charge of resettlement and has been a bone of contention through out.
The SEE Programme is causing a complete management overhaul and restructuring of the NIPS and this "change" is causing all sorts of discruntlement. The people who were responsible for denying me and obstructing and accusing me are no longer the top dogs, main protagonists, unscrupulous disingenuous, upstanding, lawful members of the establishment/they who have "God complex" are no longer in charge.
Now call me a sceptic, paranoid a felon, an offender, or whatever you like but isn't it an amazing coincidence that i have not been "visited" during this Home Leave. The Resettlement people have deemed me risk assessed and fit to be legally at large for two days without checking on me and legally of low enough security category (D' cat) to live and re-integrate to the community yet they won't let me reside in a part of the prison located "inside" the walls.
These past two nights have been the first in my four years under the duty of care of the NIPS whereby i have not had my sleep interrupted by them either by torch being shone in face, light being switched on or headcounts being carried out first thing in the morning. I feel so clear headed and relaxed and i haven't even had my coffee yet!
Am i paranoid? I'll be back in four weeks with a thousand different tales of titter and whit which have made me laugh and made me cry. Volunteering to go to prison is one of the most un-natural thought processes a human being can go through I've done it six times in the past year thank the stars, the Gods Jose Marhinio it's my last.
So there you go campers. I'll be in touch.
Wednesday 22 May 2013
Re-entry to daily life
My last two days parole before my realease in three weeks, four days and six hours but who's counting eh! Emotions are only part of it, it's like extreme to extreme, and then nothing, forget it and move on don't dwell, don't stop or you'll fry.
I spoke to a senior criminal justice figure yesterday and they told me that only 1% of the population in Northern Ireland are in Jail. I suggested that there migth be more over the past twenty years and that every single person in Northern Irealnd knows of (first person) a person who has served or worked in or works with an organistion connected to prison. We moved on to football after that.
I met my friend for coffee, in Belfast, this morning, he's an ex-prisoner. Whilst we were setting up or laptops aside our cofffee and mucho thick sticky chocolate, stickyness stuff i heard my name being called quietly. It was another ex-prisoner. We laughed and smiled and chatted but this was interrupted by a phone message. I waited by checking my email as my friend was trying to find me a password for a prison related site he'd already subscribed to. I sat and giggled inwardly. We three had so much to share and talk about but we alll got information technologyitus and i jokingly sent my friend an email asking him how he was getting on at home.
After an hour we headed down Royal Avenue for a KFC and nodded at two guys who we recognised as ex's. My friend wasn't hungry so he headed off to meet up with three other ex's who work helping ex's with CV's and stuff. I had to go and meet my professor at Queens and at a bus stop in Botanic i heard my name being called in a heavely accented Spanish/Belfastish - another ex and his pal who was a bit under the influence of the vinocallapso. We chatted and laughed and parted.
I met my Proffessor and we discussed last nights amazing knowledge and insight delivered by Professor Christopher Uggen at a seminar at Queens and the minority group referred to as offenders and ex-offenders and how damaged this minority are when they leave prison. We parted and I was picked up by my brother and taken to my new house where he installed a sink and I attempted to cut the grass. Prison gym did not prepare me for an overgrown field the size of a tennis court and i ache from head to toe as we speak. My brother apologise for not getting done what he wanted to. My Uncle who had two heart attacks before Christmas was sanding down a newly plastered bedroom so that the painters could get started and the carpets could get laid.
I spoke to a senior criminal justice figure yesterday and they told me that only 1% of the population in Northern Ireland are in Jail. I suggested that there migth be more over the past twenty years and that every single person in Northern Irealnd knows of (first person) a person who has served or worked in or works with an organistion connected to prison. We moved on to football after that.
I met my friend for coffee, in Belfast, this morning, he's an ex-prisoner. Whilst we were setting up or laptops aside our cofffee and mucho thick sticky chocolate, stickyness stuff i heard my name being called quietly. It was another ex-prisoner. We laughed and smiled and chatted but this was interrupted by a phone message. I waited by checking my email as my friend was trying to find me a password for a prison related site he'd already subscribed to. I sat and giggled inwardly. We three had so much to share and talk about but we alll got information technologyitus and i jokingly sent my friend an email asking him how he was getting on at home.
After an hour we headed down Royal Avenue for a KFC and nodded at two guys who we recognised as ex's. My friend wasn't hungry so he headed off to meet up with three other ex's who work helping ex's with CV's and stuff. I had to go and meet my professor at Queens and at a bus stop in Botanic i heard my name being called in a heavely accented Spanish/Belfastish - another ex and his pal who was a bit under the influence of the vinocallapso. We chatted and laughed and parted.
I met my Proffessor and we discussed last nights amazing knowledge and insight delivered by Professor Christopher Uggen at a seminar at Queens and the minority group referred to as offenders and ex-offenders and how damaged this minority are when they leave prison. We parted and I was picked up by my brother and taken to my new house where he installed a sink and I attempted to cut the grass. Prison gym did not prepare me for an overgrown field the size of a tennis court and i ache from head to toe as we speak. My brother apologise for not getting done what he wanted to. My Uncle who had two heart attacks before Christmas was sanding down a newly plastered bedroom so that the painters could get started and the carpets could get laid.
Needless to say this blows me away and humbles me beyond words. I hugged my brother and had to
go for a walk to the shops because I got so mad thinking that I could have been out for the weekend
every ten days for the past year on resettlement doing all this work but... well it's over now.
When I was at the shop I bump into one of the top boys/community representatives and he says
you still over in South Africa or London?
I laugh and told him where I was.
Drugs? he says.
I nod.
I laugh and told him where I was.
Drugs? he says.
I nod.
Don't worry you'll be allright here now, sure there's all sorts living here now and everything.
On the slow walk back to continue with the grrass cutting I bump into an old friend who narrowly avoided jail several times when we were younger. We are all middle aged men now and I now feel as if I have come home. These men laugh with me and at me, but it doesn't matter to them. They are just happy to say hello and swap the fat. My brother dropped me off and i met a young man in the lift. He was Eastern European and wearing a jacket with the logo of 'The Prince's Trust.' Yep, he too was an ex who obtained an NVQ in cooking at Maghaberry and was returning from work at a famous resteraunt in Belfast.
On the slow walk back to continue with the grrass cutting I bump into an old friend who narrowly avoided jail several times when we were younger. We are all middle aged men now and I now feel as if I have come home. These men laugh with me and at me, but it doesn't matter to them. They are just happy to say hello and swap the fat. My brother dropped me off and i met a young man in the lift. He was Eastern European and wearing a jacket with the logo of 'The Prince's Trust.' Yep, he too was an ex who obtained an NVQ in cooking at Maghaberry and was returning from work at a famous resteraunt in Belfast.
Civic acceptance and social welcoming back to the community from a guy who spent many years in
prison for terrorist offences and several encounters over the day led me to a conclusion. You are not alone. This Alien race of ex's and nearly ex's are among you and around you at all times every day and everywhere. The only problem is you have never been an ex and you don't understand what you are missing and to finish off in very poor taste "we haven't gone away you know."
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