Thursday, January 15, 2009

An epiphany

There is news!

It is not very often that I can say that - but this week there is news. I had a letter from Mr Chris Mullin MP to inform me that he is meeting with the Chief Executive of the Parole Board on Tuesday 13th January (four days' time as I write) and that he will discuss my situation with her. I am not clear if the purpose of the meeting is to discuss my situation specifically or if I will be brought up during the general discussion. Either way I am thankful for the intervention of Mr Mullin.

Secondly, and in fact a sort of continuation of the above, I had a letter from my solicitors' office to inform me that the actual Parole hearing has been tentatively (I think) set for Friday 20th February - another bit of good news. It was originally supposed to be in December, but we must be thankful for small mercies.

And so the wheels of 2009 begin to grind exceeding slow, as the bible would have said if it hadn't said the bit about the mills and the grist. However, welcome as the above news may be, the real point of this particular cry in the wilderness is to point out that I have had an epiphany, my very own road to Damascus.

There I was the other day, sitting here in my little kennel and minding my own business, when it occurred to me out of the blue (and in conjunction with a recent missive) that, while I am not a whinger as such, I may come perilously close to it.

There was a difference of opinion and during the course of it I had cause to take issue with a prison warder, guard, kangaroo - call him what you will. The details don't actually matter, they very rarely do in fact. What matters is that the following exchange took place.
Me: What did you do THAT for?
Him: I've got no choice, it's my job.
Me: That's just bollocks! It's not your job to make people bloody miserable.
Him: I've got to do as I'm told just like you.
Me: Right. You do what you are told, do you?
Him: I have to, it's my job.
Me: So if they told you to put your head on a railway line for a train to run over, would you do it?
Him: Don't be silly, of course I wouldn't.
Me: No, of course you wouldn't. But you'd put MINE on it, wouldn't you?
That was it really. He said there was no point talking to me if I was going to be like that and off he went.

And now I have managed to work it out - I'm not a whinger, I'm a grumpy old man who is sick in the head and I probably need some sort of intense counselling.

The Voice In The Wilderness

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