OK. As so many of you like Queen’s Woods so much I will write some more about it very soon.
Not that I know that much about the technical history of the place but it sure contains a lot of memories – childhood memories, that is. So I’ll write something next time. It’ll make a refreshing break and give me something to do.
But first hear this! The next book is FINISHED. I mean the text is, obviously subject to careful grammatical checking. But there’s a long way to go yet. Its got to be read in its entirety by two or three people and its open to them to suggest anything I might have inadvertently left out. But as regarding the actual writing of it, it is ‘finito’! Over and Out! The hard work is over.
I have already started Vol 2 of my autobiography now. It begins where Vol 1 left off. As a VERY RARE exception, let me give you the opening page. But make the most of it ‘cause its all you’re getting! And bear in mind it hasn’t been checked for grammer, style yet etc.
So, page 1! . . .
“Judgement Day” . . .
ONE DAY in prison was really like any other. The days of the week really had little meaning and seemed to blend into each other with a tedious monotony that almost defied any logical description; that is, if anybody could be bothered – not least be inclined – to attempt to wish to define them. I knew of no-one; indeed, rather than giving attention to their morbid surroundings that seemed devoid of any sense of hope or time, most sought to embrace any form of escapism, whether this involved playing games like cards, draughts or chess, or merely writing letters to people ‘outside’ who were obviously not prisoners of the grey surroundings. For everything seemed to be grey; from the bleak walls and ceilings, the floors and railings, everything was made up of forms of shadowy grey – and even the uniforms were grey in colour.
The only day which seemed really distinguishable at all, were Sundays. And this, mainly because it afforded a chance to visit the prison Chapel at 11a.m. and escape into the sanctuary of a more ‘accessible freedom’, albeit this beyond the reaches of imprisoned mortals. For most, with the exception of a dedicated few, that’s all that these weekly visits to the Chapel entailed; a chance to escape from the dingy cells for a limited hour, but perhaps reflect on the possibility of ‘Something Greater’ that might intercede and in some way release them; although not necessarily ‘save them’! I never went. Well, let’s face it. There were hardly any who really cared about the ‘salvation of their souls’, just any chance to temporarily escape the confines of the damnable place! . . .
Gosh! Re-reading it, reminds me its going to be a hard book to write. I’ve got to cover the Trial and then prison life. That’s going to be the hardest part. More so the Trial. But at least I’ve got most of the transcripts and witness statements so it can all be accurate. People will then be in a position to read the truth itself, and not have to rely on the versions of a couple of misguided people who are trying to re-write history. (This also goes for the just completed book as well).
So, next time. . . Queen’s Wood!
But for now,