The Prison of henpecked Husband

26 May

A friend comes to see me today. He has until recently had immeasurable success in his chosen field and has fought for this every step of the way. From a troubled upbringing, his efforts have been that much more than others to see him land in the spot he fills now.

He had an affair a year or more back and despite forgiveness he cannot expect it to be forgotten. The trust is gone in their marriage and now a recent business deal has gone sour due to some deceitful actions by an inlaw to an important business associate. His wife not siding with him has put the final nail in the coffin of their loveless marriage. Sat there, shoulders sloping, head down and million yard stare made my chirpy demeanour that bit brighter. I look around at the room we found ourselves in and then back to him. I might have been thinking along the same lines as him, but he speaks first and says the words I was possible thinking:

“I feel like I’m the one in prison, I just wish I was here sometimes free of this dark cloud'”

It’s true, I do feel good on good days and outside stresses rarely get to me (Partner matters aside). Maybe I’m different, I set my future up before I went in; I had made the choice to take a plea and not fight things – prison was inevitable from that point on. I just needed to get through this in the best way possible. So far, so good. Flick across to the juxtaposition I find myself in. A disgraced Cityboy, stripped of his worldly assets, bright eyed and bushy tailed, raring to go – sat next to a grey, aging, depressed shell of a man with troubles poorly managed around him. This sad beast is younger than me but you’d never know.

He has begun drinking too. How many more friends must I see begin to slip my grasp with the unspoken monster that is Alcohol.

Stripped of my shame, sat with a prison ID badge around my neck; I am the Freeman, his problems put my small fears into context.


I am woken rudely as happens everyday courtesy of a prison guard’s torch at 5am. George is disturbed more than I and shows his anger clearly. His old cellmate is tolerating the delight of having a new lodger that experiences night-terrors. Lovely

The man in question was sentenced for selling falsely labelled items on Ebay. Notably, a plank of wood as an IPAD. Shockingly, he feels he has been harshly done by:

“If you are getting it for half price – what do you expect?” He exclaims.

“Well…” I consider

“Perhaps an IPAD…. for half price?”

The Rugby World Cup has begun, with the matches on at indecent hours I am planning on formulating a nocturnal sleeping timetable to accommodate the games. One of the more senior prisoners (But youthful in outlook – I know you read the blog) has provided me with a tournament timetable for my Cell to help me in this planning. I am primarily interested in the England games but I love watching the Welsh. Some say, the Kiwis of the North. I say that anyway. In fact I’d say New Zealand are the Welsh of the South.

I set up a biscuit bet between Clarence a billet buddy and myself over an upcoming Liverpool Spurs match. We bet the weekly breakfast pack biscuits that we are given. Here’s hoping I land some Custard Creams or Bourbons; not the biggest fan of ginger snaps.

**Perk Alert**

A fellow education orderly has found a fridge and freezer we can use on the sly. This is massive news in the world of prison. We set about discovering how ice cream can be made. In the mean time I use it to freeze a fruit drink carton for the very fact I can. Plus Ice Lollies are fun.

A cursory inspection under my bed today in a slack moment, tells me the bed is a damp rotting mattress. I apply to have this changed. If I’m lucky I’ll land a ‘bedwetting friendly’ blue plastic mattress.

Safety first


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