My busy Sunday

The clocks said 8.15 when I left the house but really it was 7.15.

I'd somehow manged to put myself on the prison rota and, as we were doing the presentation, it meant being there for 8.30 am and doing it three times.

Yesterday was Amazing Grace Sunday (or Freedom Day), the day on which events were taking place all over the country to commemorate the 200th anniversary of the passing of the Act to abolish the slave trade (although slavery itself wasn't completely abolished until 1833), so that was what our meetings were based on.

In the segregated unit, I sat next to the man I mentioned a few weeks ago. Then he had been cheerful and confident, yesterday he was subdued. He goes into the witness box today to begin to tell his side of the story. He has been painted very black in the local newspaper; I hope his words get unbiased and fair reporting, and that the truth will be uncovered and justice done.

Another man in the seg unit had had to give permission for his brother's life support machine to be switched off. I don't know what he's in prison for but that is an awful decision to have to take when you can be there to say goodbye; how much worse when you don't even get to see the man whose life you're effectively ending?