Friday, March 18, 2011

Confusion will be my epitaph

I'm confused.

Here's me, sitting here, minding my own business, bothering nobody, doing my own inoffensive things and plodding along like a proper little patient. What are the ubiquitous "THEY" doing?

A good question.

I am getting mixed and often completely contrary messages from all and sundry. Had a letter from my solicitor during the week which had enclosed a letter HE had received from Hoss the Boss here at the Lazy L. I won't quote the full thing, only the confusing part. Hoss the Boss writes:

With regards to Mr Wilkinson's final decision on re-categorisation; at this time the paperwork is being considered by the Deputy Governor, as soon as a decision is made, Mr Wilkinson will be informed.
That's what HE says.

Then I had a letter from The Wallace, and once again I will only quote the relevant passage. She writes:

I did speak to the Offender Management Unit a few weeks ago about your category review. [They] advised me that in order to review your category, it had to go to the director of high security as you had been Cat A within the last 5 years.
As for a date for the parole hearing, forget that. It has taken on the mantle of rocking horse shit - very difficult to get hold of indeed.

Don't misunderstand me - I don't see a conspiracy at all. What I see is a catalogue of incompetence and failure to communicate with each other. Each department is diligently protecting its own little powerbase and they are all keeping secrets from each other to the detriment of those they are supposed to be managing and dealing with - the cons. There are cuts in the air you see!

"My department is doing a good job!" they cry. "It is the others who don't know what they are doing!"

Yes! Because you aren't communicating, numbskull.

What it all means to me is that I am confused, but who can blame me for that? While THEY go about their little intrigues against each other, here's me, stuck here, scratching - and totally wasting what's left of my life. They do not want me to do anything - I have no targets to aim at beyond "Be a good boy". I haven't been in any trouble of any sort for over ten years - it can't improve! I can't get any better than ideal. All I am doing now is sitting here, rotting to no good purpose.

On a brighter note, Boudica has newly decided that she will be an author of children's stories. About bleedin' time as well, if you ask me. I don't know if I have mentioned this before (and, if I have, then skip the next couple of sentences), but Boudica is really good at writing tales for tots. I've been on at her for some time now to write, with a view to proper publication, but she would only write the stories and send them off to individuals - members of the family and friends, that kind of thing.

(Do you ever feel the urge to grab someone by the scruff of the neck and shake them and say, "You'd better start cooperating a bit more." Do you ever get that urge??)

I finally had to offer to draw pictures to go with her stories before she would start to cooperate a bit. Now? She can't stop writing now. The bug has got her. She's writing like Barbara Cartland on speed.

That's the secret you see. We all have stories to tell, it's just a matter of getting started. Once we start then it's like a snowball rolling down a roof - it just picks up speed and grows as it travels.

I've said it before, but I'm going to say it again - Mao Tse Tung once said:

A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.
Well, Boudica has taken the step - long may she reign.

Where does that leave me? Confused, that's where it leaves me - confused.

The Voice In The Wilderness

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