Keep off the Grass

24 Apr

It’s a good day of mail that lands at Ford for me. I’ve got photos from my lover and a little bit of a sunny day overhead. For me the two are linked. Cider and a bit of Camden is all that’s missing.

I speak to my uni pal ‘Oldman’ as he’s known, the previous evening, I get a chance to chat to another: Boon, too. They’re off clubbing… b’stards! But we manage to sort him out a last minute cancellation slot on the visitor’s list for Sunday. It’s been a while since we last caught up, a friendship that until the last year, saw too many months pass at a time with no contact. My doing. I fix this and it’s been great getting to hang out with the guy again. I’m looking forward to a good natter with him, plus it’s nice having a slick bloke rock up in a tidy motor with a shiny kettle on his arm come to see you. Makes you feel a little more important, although possibly – completely for the wrong, materialistic reasons. The same attributes that we need to shed so as to avoid a repeat performance of all this J

My morning AND afternoon is a painstaking affair, still working on the assessment piece of my woodwork course, still bricking it, that I’ll damage the sod and have to start again. It’s put more grey hairs on me in one afternoon than the FSA managed in 3 years.

The bumper pack of fun, courtesy of R, has some doodles ‘From India’. It’s remarkable how a small set of circumstances set about a chain reaction that has such grand changes upon your entire being. Getting cheated on while paying out like a mug, to a failed glamour model that I felt deserved to be put on a pedestal – helped me identify some important priorities in my life, that I had neglected.

My own time in the pin stripes of the Sqaure Mile’s Broking Army, was one when I cared a little too much about the watch on my wrist or the brand of Gin I drank. I sit here with a Casio in prison, smiling as a I drink budget tea-bags, ecstatic as I pour over a handwritten note from the woman I love. Still the letters come every day.

They say you need to do something 20 times (Or is it 30?) to make it habit. Here’s hoping 46 letters later, my little woman is proper in the habit.

In the evening I take dinner not alone for the first time in weeks. I finally have someone to head down to the food hall too. He will never know it, but when Spence asked me:

“What time you wanna head down food hall?”

I was very happy, at least inwardly.

Living with Delroy, stifled my social development here somewhat. The brand had been inhibited J Since moving cells, I’ve felt perkier and realise for the first time that I have begun to know quite a few faces here. Walking to pick up my laundry I chuck a nod to another, get back a smile and even a wink to a dozen or so souls.

I’m getting out my Chrysalis, yeah?

Danny Wallace, the ‘Yes Man’ says good things happen when you say yes, I can see the truth in that. Happy as larry that I accepted the offer of a cell switch. Strolling about on a sunny afternoon, I realised for the first time:

“I’m pretty happy here”

I call home and find more good news – a duvet is inbound.

Will I get it?

I put my trainers on and knock out 6 laps (6km) with Spence, Tim, Barry, a right little running firm we have now.

NB: Prison Bye laws on running here, prohibit us from lapping the exterior track and confine us to ‘Supposedly’ running the cricket pitch.

The same cricket pitch that this week had a sign erected saying:

“Keep off the Grass”



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