I have had a document from the Parole Board, via my solicitor, to inform me that the board has decided that I must have an Oral Hearing and three hours are to be set aside for it. I don't have an actual date yet but speaking to The SS on Thursday last she said that she expected me to be out by the end of March - and that is a matter of a mere few weeks in the grand scheme of things. After almost twenty-seven years, a few more weeks is neither here nor there and will hardly register really. It will pass soon enough. Apparently I will be expected to go to a hostel but only for a maximum of two months - I am clearly not hostel material. At the same time, clearly I still have certain boxes to be ticked and the probation service need a couple of months of me in a hostel just to be sure of their ground. They have no fears of anything going wrong, as I don't myself, but I suppose they have to go through the designated motions for their own peace of mind. Anyway, those two months will be spent with me organising my own place of abode, wherever that may be.
There is still no certainty about where I will be allowed to settle, not yet. Lincolnshire Probation Service have yet to accept me, if indeed they decide to do that. If they don't then I shall be going up to be under the control and tender, caring hands of the Northumbria mob - The SS and The Wallace. An idea, incidentally, which I do not find at all as repugnant as I do that of the local hostel, but I may be given no choice in the matter.
The Parole Board have stated that they require the attendance of several people to discuss my release prospects - so we shall see.
I spent four days last week at the local hostel and it wasn't too bad really, just a bit cold. Mind, it's cold everywhere at the minute, and set to get colder - more snow and all that goes with it. The best place for snow is on Christmas cards.
In the meanwhile, the two goats that are left are doing well and are becoming more friendly by the day - as are the alpacas really, but they are not so friendly at all, although friendlier than they were when they arrived here.
My pigeons are just that - my pigeons. Still living the life of Reilly, eating the best of chicken corn and staying in the loft most of the day out of the cold - but who can blame them for that? I was sitting down there today after I got back (early) from my latest (and last) town visit, and they were strutting around my feet, fighting as usual. I have no idea what will happen to the birds after I am gone from here but I feel sure that someone will want to take them on and look after them.
So, one more home leave to the local hostel next month and that will be that - all boxes duly ticked, everything done that has been asked of me and, provided nothing outrageously silly happens between now and·my appearance before the board, I shall be a free (-ish) man by March. All I have to do now is wait for the Parole Board to set a date. So I shall sit here patiently while they do that.
And so the dance begins - the last tango in Boston!
The Voice In The Wilderness
No comments:
Post a Comment