Visiting Styal women's prison

I went to Styal women’s prison yesterday to visit a friend of mine who is serving a 12 week sentence. I had to prove who I was, my name had already been submitted well in advance of my visit. I was searched and had to empty my pockets of everything including my hanky which were put into a locker. I had my hand stamped with indelible ink and was given a numbered orange wrist band to wear. Hugs and kisses on the cheeks were allowed but not on the lips. I was struck by how working class the women prisoners were, apart from my friend. I said to her, ‘You don’t belong here’ and she replied that several prisoners and prison staff had said the same to her. Actually the prisoners were not working class they were probably long term unemployed or would be outside of prison. Some were persistent shop lifters, a few were or had been on heroin, and a few were inside for acts of violence including murder. All were white apart from one South-Asian woman. Most were under 40. My friend had read a letter sent to her cell mate and had offered to write her a reply since she could not read or write. It was a sad miserable place to be. Everything takes ages to happen there, everything has to be controlled and accounted for. I guess if you have had a very chaotic life the structure there might have some use. I’ve been to Broadmoor and Park Lane - men’s hospitals for the criminally insane, but there was something troubling about visiting Styal. I would like to think we could do it all much better. If so it would take money which I guess is politically unrealistic. My friend should be out in a couple of weeks.

What shall we eat?

What shall we eat?

Waiting for you again
I’m early as ever
And yes you’re late
Why break a habit of a lifetime
Now and for me

Ah but when you arrive
Your smile melts me
And I hardly even hear
Your mumbled apology

But this can’t be good
And certainly isn’t for me
Now what shall we eat?

Poem for Alun Turing

Poem for Alan Turing

I stood near you
Well, it wasn’t really you
It was just a statue of you
But that worked for me
And I felt gratitude for
All your gifts - to all of us
Cracking the code
And thinking the computer
And I felt sadness
At never being able to meet you
God, you could have been my teacher
But I was fourteen years too late

And I felt anger too
At how you – a hero- was treated
How can a loving act
Between two adults in private
Be called gross indecency?
Gross indecency?
Now that describes how you were treated.

Martha(2)

[With special thanks to Graham North who asked about Steve who first featured in Martha]

‘I first met Martha at a dance in the Coliseum off Deansgate. I fell for her right away, head-over-heels. She was my first real girl friend - even though I was twenty at the time and everyone thought I was a bit of a lad, I wasn’t. She was a right smasher, even though she was a bit quiet. But once you got her on the dance floor, boy, could she move something. I didn’t realise until it was too late that she had a bloke already – Stan – I think his name was. Mind you if only that Johnny* had not burst.’ Steve took a deep swallow of his beer. ‘Of course I was in the Navy by then. I’d joined the Merchant Navy when I left school at thirteen in nineteen thirty three. And I was visiting Manchester with my shipmate Rob whose parents lived in Ancoats… But I was horrified when she died and her being pregnant too – my baby – was it a boy or a girl? – I never knewed. I would have married her – gladly - but she said No… No-one else took her place. I did get married to Jane after the war ended, ‘er was a good lass, and I did my best to be a good husband to ‘er but my heart was not really in it. We never had no kids though and she died last year, heart attack. Me? I get by, but I still think of Martha. There are some people you never forget, they just get inside you somehow.’

*Old slang for a condom

330 words

I have recently sent up some of my short creative writing pieces to the blog 330 words and they have published all 4 pieces which has delighted me no end! Regular readers of this blog will maybe have already read these pieces from about 18 months -2 years ago and those of you linked to me on Facebook will have had these links before.

On 330words site:
1) The Manchester Riots http://330words.wordpress.com/2011/09/15/william-west-the-manchester-riots/ posted September 15th 2011;
2) Xavier http://330words.wordpress.com/2011/12/15/xavier-written-by-william-west/ posted December 15th 2011;
3) The glass shatters http://330words.wordpress.com/2012/01/19/the-glass-shatters-written-by-william-west/ posted January 19th 2011;
4) Martha, http://330words.wordpress.com/2012/02/16/martha-written-by-william-west/ posted 16th February 2012

Neil Tennant poem

Neil Tennant poem

What have I done to deserve this?
What have I done to deserve this?
What have I done to deserve this?
What have I done to deserve this?
What have I done to deserve this?

You were always on my mind
You were always on my mind
You were always on my mind
You were always on my mind
Nowhere else though

Poem: A gap in the book shelf of my life

A gap in the book shelf of my life

They’ve left your books in my room
A bit of you that can be forever mine

It’s thin pickings with just your initials on some volumes
Though one of them says Durham Xmas 87

The books have a strange and sweet smell
Which puzzles me

I can hang onto these volumes
As long as I like

But you are gone
And there is a gap in the book shelf of my life