Yesterday marked my 15th year in prison; that’s 180 months, 780 weeks, 5, 470 days, 131,496 hours or 7,889,760 minutes all gone. I must admit, in my occassional pessimistic moments, I do wonder what is the point of all of this. There was a recent case in Scotland, similar to mine, where the guy got charged with culpable homicide, was convicted and sentenced to 6 years. He’ll be out before I even finish this sentence of (a minimum) 26 years. Continuing this wrongful coviction does not benefit anyone.
Here’s some more statistics:
. 300+ – the number of strip searches I’ve had.
. 32,760+ – the number of night-time Cat A cell checks (flap open, light on);
. 5,479 – the number of daily cell fabric checks (‘bolts’n’bars’)
. 1 – the number of squat searches (on transfer to Belmarsh a few years ago, ridiculous and so unneccessary);
. 10,958+ – the number of prison meals I have eaten;
. 3 – the number of prison meals I have enjoyed!;
. 2 – the number of football matches I’ve played in (I really do not like football, it should only be played by children or
. 1 – the number of heart attacks I’ve had (in prison);
. 15 – the number of Christmases I’ve missed with my family and my family have missed with me;
. 11 – the minimum number of more Christmases we will miss;
. 4,000+ – the minimum number of days I have left in prison (if I even make it).
Well, that was all a little depressing.
Be happy, be safe.
Graham Coutts, 25th April 2018