I wanted to
write something about this being my 30th Christmas in prison. I had
enjoyed just twenty-three Christmas celebrations before coming to Jail. I’ve
talked about this time of year before and I wanted to recall a different aspect
of it to share with you here.
Firstly, and
I find this very hard to even admit, as each year passes I’m finding it harder
to recall emotional memories of how it was outside during this festive period.
I’d always believed those feelings of such intense happiness that I had experienced
celebrating Christmas at home would remain with me, but sadly, as I grow old in
prison so the memories have begun to fade.
Secondly,
these fading memories make me feel ashamed as if I’m letting down my deceased
family in some way. It seems odd to say this, and I’m not sure if I can put
this into words properly—It’s as if somehow my fading memories of Christmas can
be explained by saying they cannot have been as happy as I have portrayed them
to be. Yet they really were happy times. Especially so when Daniel and Nicholas
reached the age of two. The boys loved being at the farm at Christmas, we’d all
sit around the kitchen table and make decorations. Colin and Sheila were both
artistic so they out shone the rest of us by a country mile. But we’d spray
paint pine cones with cans of gold and silver, and put together long lengths of
paper chains whilst testing the quality of each batch of freshly made mince
pies that mum kept taking out of the oven. The game was to distract mum’s
attention in some way so that dad could palm a couple of mince pies off the
cooling rack without being noticed, then pass them to each of us out of sight
under the table. It seemed such great fun, and they did taste all the better
for being obtained by stealth. I don’t doubt that mum knew exactly what was
going on but played along because it was such fun.
Christmas
celebrations in prison were once upon a time quite jolly affairs with the wings
being decorated and a tree would go up too. The food from the hotplate/server
would be a bit different and appropriately festive. We’d even be given little treats like a chocolate bar, a can of pop and a tangerine. Perhaps we’d
put on a play and there would be various Christmas competitions where small
prizes could be won. This sort of Christmas fun had almost completely
disappeared by the end of the 1990’s for various reasons including cost
cutting.
Christmas is
now seen as just another day in prison, a milestone to be ticked as one less
Christmas to do before the sentence is over. That does not apply to me.
I just feel
blessed that I’ve stayed alive to see another Christmas pass knowing that this
Christmas day I’m about to spend in jail could and should be the last one that
I have to endure in here. It is such an odd feeling to think that I’ve endured
30 Christmas days but the facts now show that I should not have spent a single
Christmas in prison.
I would like
to wish all of my friends and supporters a happy Christmas in person and maybe
next year I will be in a position to do this, I hope so. I’m going to stop here
as it’s making me a bit depressed.
All the best
for Christmas and New Year.
Jeremy
