Wednesday (23rd)
Yet another day in the
prison, denied my papers, laptop and privacy to interview some 50 odd
witnesses.
The witness has to
have 2 staff escorts, the latter to record ‘selective memory' appropriate
for the physic jargon in their little world of apparent make believe.
It is 6am and I want
to have a cup of tea and start work.
No tea until 7.30 -
the ‘rules' and we have run out of milk!
I am due to have a
visit from two of the kids today.
Belinda and Alex.
Belinda goes off to
some remote part of the world to set up some future TV documentary in the
deepest jungle or half way up some mountain.
Alex is chasing his
tail preparing for university at Kingston on Thames. ‘Now just
how am I going to load all my books and ‘stuff' on my Honda 125?'
Better have a shave
and impress. Cut my fingernails, iron a
short and wear a tie. The rigmarole of
signing in and out just for a safety razor, under constant surveillance is a small
price to pay. I am not allowed nail
clippers.
Even the telephone
calls are monitored, my being denied any privacy even with my wife that has
made me so annoyed.
‘Don't let them
provoke you' Norman Scarth's sound words rang in my ear. If you argue you have a mental disorder - if
you smile too much and joke you are definitely doomed!
Norman, an old
campaigner of injustice under the ‘British Judicial system' had been in the
Royal WW2 arctic convoys, beaten the enemy at Strasbourg and a regular face at our protests
around the Country. What did Churchill say
"when found halfway through hell, keep going" - or something like that.
I am in a ward of
seven, sometimes eight, prisoners in the HM regulated establishment, simply an extension
of Cardiff prison. The vast number running the place, just for
sixty four beds, desperately attempt to fool me otherwise, saying I am a
‘patient' under their ‘care'.
No one seems to have
experienced a section 35 "who caused my arrest in the first place?" I ask the lady ‘shrink'. Her answer reflected the need to know basis
obviously in this section of scary medicine.
"Who asked for section
35" I ask. The original judge just wanted
to protect his own back with the ‘perfunctory episode' of a ‘professional' to
make my imprisonment, without trial, look acceptable in the eyes of the ill
informed general public. If only they
stopped believing the rubbish printed by some newspapers and actually witnessed
what really goes on in our courts - Dream On, Maurice.
Why can I not have my
legal papers? No one seems to know but
hurry off to write down my ‘mood change', pages and pages of it.
I sneak back to my
little cell and slide out from under a corner the twelve page nursing report
dated 27 and 31 August. What an insight
into so serious a subject.
My attempt to post a
letter at Highgrove, to mimic all I was doing at the US President's ranch last
year, had the very effect I most feared.
The ‘Mets' involvement
led to a Princess of Wales Hospital's psychiatrist to write, in March, "initial
conclusions were that he demonstrated paranoid personality traits and
longstanding delusional beliefs". I was
clearly quite mad in believing our Law Courts would finally nail the buggers.
This was from a
psychiatric report, never completed as I realised just in time just what their
‘end game' was.
Now to be, just days
after the Chief Constable had signed her false affidavit on failed disclosure.
Alex and Belinda
arrive loaded with reading material, French CD's, a decent newspaper, bars of
chocolate! My birthday all over again.
Then the serious stuff
- in the presence of prison guards - warning my kids of the quickening pace of
pervasion of evil, following Barbara's' signature.
To be continued....