On my first night in prison, I slept well. Perhaps the previous day’s stress and exhaustion played a part. Neither the thin rubber mattress, scratchy orange nylon blanket nor my feet hanging off the end of the bed stopped me falling into a deep sleep. Banging and shouting from other cells woke me a couple of times, but I soon slept again.
When I woke, I felt surprisingly calm. My cellmate in HMP Wandsworth, Peter, seemed fine: stable, calm, not on drugs. And the bad thing I’d dreaded for years had finally happened. Here, imprisoned – sentenced to 45 months for fraud – I no longer had to torture myself with those fears.
I looked about the cell. No kettle or TV. Two pieces of paper on the floor, just by the door. I climbed down and picked them up. The printed slips informed me that I must attend an ‘Induction Presentation and Education Assessment’ that morning and provided directions to the relevant rooms.
Even in prison there’s no escape from bad Powerpoint presentations
Thumping footsteps, punctuated by the sound of large metal keys turning heavy locks.
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