Autobiography

make up stories of where he was. I told the
tales so often I almost believed them myself.
I just wanted a dad who was someone I could
believe in, be proud of and look up to but
instead he was in jail because he was a crook.
My visit to Dartmoor was one of those
occasions when I had a wave of heartache
come over me; despite all that had happened I
still wanted to have a relationship with my
father.
Of the many things that happened to me
during my young life, Dartmoor stands out
most vividly in my memory.
I was carrying a small case with the items
visitors were allowed to pass on to the
prisoners. There was no tobacco hidden in my
pockets because it was too frightening to try
anything like that. It was an awesome
experience for a young lad.
I was holding Marie’s hand not knowing where
we were going. We had to go through the
security checks; a grim adventure laden with
the cold chill of being in this infamous prison
and looking after my sister on my own.
Dartmoor left a lasting impression. It was a
huge prison, especially in the eyes of a young
boy. Massive walls and bars at every window
were keeping my dad securely inside. It is the
vastness of it all that stays in my mind. The
whole place was terrifying; was this where
they hung the really bad people?
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