Looking at the world through frosted glass

It gets filthier by the minute - the deluge pours from the skies and lesser mortals suffer under the onslaught. Water runs down  my neck and speckles the lenses of my bins - it's like looking at the world through frosted glass. It's pointless wiping them dry and clean because they are obscured again by the time I get them back on! It is times like this when I seriously consider becoming a Hoodie.

The pigeons don't care, of course. They sit in their loft, comfy on their perches, while they wonder why I am doing impressions of a saturated, drowned rat. We had a day off from the rain during the past week, but I can't remember which day it was and I can't be bothered to consult my diary.

However, there IS some news on the Parole Board front - wonders will never cease, I suppose. The other day, I can't recall which one (all days here seem to  meld into the same day), I had a letter from the solicitor to tell me that we can expect some sort of decision from the Parole Board in tbe guise of the ICM. (I think that is an acronym for Independent Committee Member*, but I could be wrong). Apparently, the prison quite simply has not supplied reports to the PB for my parole hearing. No date for it yet, of course, but the ICM has instructed the probation, the internal probation AND security to supply and update reports on my progress. The way I read it is that the ICM isn't entirely chuffed by the lack of up-to-date reports and has given a directive that these reports must be submitted by 17th Decemher. By then, of course, I will be a long time past my hearing date, but we mustn't be churlish, eh?

It also seems to me, from reading the scant information I DO have, that the only areas where the board is showing any interest is as to whether I have successfully completed any day releases - and I have well over twenty under my belt, so to speak. Also, have I successfully completed any home leaves? Well, I've been to the hostel in Lincoln twice and hopefully I'll get a couple more in before I appear before the board for an oral hearing, which my solicitor seems confident I will be asked to do. I'll have to get a wash and shave and put a whistle and flute on for that, of course - got to make the effort. There are no security concerns, and my risk levels are minimum, as far as I have been given to believe.

So, that's the position. With a bit of luck I may even have been to Gloucestershire for a couple of home leaves by the time of the actual hearing - we are trying. The requests have gone into the probation service and the police for clearance, all we are waiting for is for them to get back to us.

Where does that all leave me?  Well, sitting here, tapping away like a demented woodpecker and doing my best not to drown as I go about my business of feeding twenty-eight ungrateful pigeons - not to mention ring-necked doves, sparrows, robins, starlings and assorted avian interlopers.

I think I may have verdi-gris on my head with all the rain.

The Voice In The Wilderness

* Actually, ICM = Intensive Case Management (ed.)