Joe never slept a wink that night: gate-fever had kept his mind in turmoil and his body restless. His cell-mate's raucous battery radio - full volume! - did nothing to drown Joe's excited chatter: it merely triggered rhythmic wall-banging and water-pipe-tapping in jailbird protest all down the landing.
Joe offered his mate what little was left of his Rizlas and tobacco: an insult to one tired irritable con. Joe had nothing else to offer him. All his other bits and pieces - half a tube of toothpaste, a few sprays of deodorant, most of a notepad and an old T-shirt - had already gone to his other pals amid the dubious 'farewell' rituals on the Wing last night before Bang-up.
As the first streaks of dawn filtered in between the cell bars, Joe tried to calm his tensions, rehearsing the Dos and Don'ts which he had talked through with the chaplain for his new life outside. He could hear the chaplain's voice: 'Remember how real your experience of God has been in prison - he will be just the same outside. You came to chapel regularly in prison - find a church outside as soon as possible and make good friends there. Treat your family gently about your new-found faith and never neglect your prayer and Bible-reading.'
