My Life As A Prisoner
| Date | 01 June 2002 |
| DOI | 10.1177/026455050204900210 |
| Published date | 01 June 2002 |
| Author | Ruth Wyner |
| Subject Matter | Articles |
155
When I first hit prison I could not
concentrate on anything:
reading, writing, watching TV. My head
would not settle. I knew it was the trauma.
As time went by, writing became easier,
particularly writing letters. It felt good to
get things out on paper. Reading was a
continual, frustrating problem, as for once
in my life I had all the time I wanted to sink
my head into books. Things improved after
three or four months when I began to
devour any decent novels I could get my
hands on. I could not manage anything too
heavy.
The TV was mostly rubbish.
Sometimes the women would watch
horrendously violent movies and for some
reason, that was what I began to like best.
But if the unit gate was open, I would spend
the evening TV time walking the
compound, round and round as fast as I
could go, the manic walker, using up my
surplus energy, trying to block the stress.
At Highpoint I developed that slow
walk as well, to maximise my time outside
the unit when walking to art or healthcare.
It was linked to a demeanour of being
closed off inside myself, while being
constantly if surreptitiously alert to what
was going on around me. I saw other
women using the slow walk too. It was
protective, if not particularly comfortable. I
never felt properly relaxed in prison where
the constant tension undoubtedly caused
the searing headaches I got every two or
three weeks. But this air of insularity,
disinterest and unconcern was the way I
found to maintain myself and feel safe. In
prison you had to be on your guard all the
time.
Alongside, we all had to cope with the
waves of sadness that came upon us, often
when we least expected it. I imagined that
there was a spirit of despair inhabiting the
prison and that it moved indiscriminately
from inmate to inmate, so you never knew
where it was going to descend next. When
it was my turn I could feel it knitting my
brows, churning my stomach, pulling every
part of my body into itself. All I could do
My Life As A Prisoner
In December 1999, Ruth Wyner, then Director of the Cambridge
homeless charity Wintercomfort, and John Brock, Wintercomfort’s
Day Centre Manager, were controversially imprisoned for five and
four years respectively for ‘allowing’drug use to take place at the day
centre. Although their sentences were reduced to 14 months on appeal,
they still spent over 200 days in custody. Here, Ruth Wyner describes
her experiences and thoughts during those months.
REFLECTIONS
To continue reading
Request your trial