Now, normally I would be writing this at about half-past eight in the morning - but not today. This morning I was up and out at the crack of dawn to feed and water my pigeons - as big a bunch of pests never seen before. They sit on my boots, scratch about my feet and, every now and then, one called Gannet decides that it will do me good if it craps on my head. Some folk will say, "I wish he wouldn't use words like 'crap'." Well, it took me a long time to actually use words like 'crap'.
What am I doing crawling out of my pit at the crack of daft o'clock? Even the bleedin' sparrows are still in bed!
I'm too old for this shit. I should be sitting in a nice, comfy chair with a blanket around my knees to keep me warm, in front of a roaring fire and a little nurse standing by with fresh incontinence pants in case of accidents. I should have a budgie for a pet and a little Yorkie barking all day to annoy the neighbours and shitting on the carpet. I should be sitting waiting for my meals-on-wheels and pissing myself in the queue at Tescos so I can get to the front and pretending to be deaf.
What have I been doing today (and every day really)?
I have fed and watered twenty-four pigeons, half of them individually and by hand. Then I helped the chicken man (not Chicken George) to lug a dirty great big laying rack from the piggery up to the new chicken shed. Ha! New! The builder should be called Bob. I've seen derelict buildings that looked better.
Anyway, dragged the laying thing up there and then I went and had a look to see if there was any greenage for the chickens. After that I wandered down to the bottom field to see what mushrooms were free and unattended.
That was the morning taken care of and, as soon as I had finished my lunch, I went and picked the mushrooms, walked the perimeter of the prison farm fences looking for abandoned or injured birds, and then it was back to my rescue centre to feed the ones I've got now. By then it was tea time and, right after tea, which I didn't eat because I didn't have time (I'll have it later tonight), I was back to see to the pigeons - counted them all into the loft and settled them in for the night.
Was I finished? Not a bit. Then I was up to the realm of Chicken George to help him to settle HIS charges for the night. At least we saw a barn owl and a couple of bats.
I got back to my cell at a quarter-past seven this evening and, apart from meal times, I've been running around since five minutes past seven this morning - no wonder I lose a little weight. Mind, that seems to have stuck at twelve stones, so perhaps that's the weight I have to be, as nature decreees.
Was I finished then? No! I had to write this and then I have to write two letters AND have my shower. After that I've got my tea to eat - and if I can keep my eyes open after that it will be a miracle!
My solicitor tells me that he has requested from the Parole Board a date for an oral hearing. If they don't give such a date, then he is threatening a Judicial Review. As I said somewhere else - I'm too old for this shit.
The Voice In The Wilderness
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