It’s a bit different nowadays in Oxford jail. Me and the missus didn’t really know what to expect. Walking through the lobby for the first time I was half expecting to have my collar felt and the wife was expecting to be searched.
The lobby now has, what I call, ambience. Twenty years ago I thought that was a white van with flashing ‘blues’ on top. No, ambience was not a word that got used much by me and the guys – even after lights out.
It still gave me the collywobbles to be back though, so before being escorted to our cell we thought we might grab a stiff one at the bar. Now I’ve got a thing about bars – I don’t like them. I don’t even like the name. So it’s lucky the Malmaison (French for old jail in the heart of Oxford) don’t have a bar. It’s got a brasserie. And some. It’s all a bit atmospheric, dark even, and I’m amazed they don’t get stuff nicked.
A couple of glasses of the House white later and ‘her-indoors’ had relaxed quite a bit, as had I. The food smelt far better than it used to and the service has moved on leaps and bounds. I was ready to settle in for a session but the missus wanted to freshen-up before dinner so we decided to check out our cell.
We don’t get out as much we would like (that was something you did hear a lot when I was last here) as we have a couple of kids back home, Shiraz and Shardonnay, so this was a bit of an occasion.
Even being escorted to the room was a different experience altogether. It was quieter, our bags were carried and we were given a key (well a card-thing). The walkways and balconies are pretty much the same but carpeted and lit better for sure. There is also a ‘secondary glass structure to protect those gazing over the barrel vaulted atrium’. It used be ‘the balconies’, now it’s a ‘barrel vaulted atrium’. You can see why architects get bullied in jail.
But I digress. Let’s get down to the ‘meat and potatoes’, the rooms. Bloody hell they’ve changed! For a start the windows open.
We were in the ‘Tower Suite’. I instinctively went and had a look at the safe. Not a bad one as it happens so I put some money into it – which was a first. There was loads of useful stuff in the room. For me there was wine, beer, slippers, snacks, a DVD player and a huge flatscreen TV. For her there was an ironing board and an iron, but she wasn’t having any of it.
No, the missus had found the bathroom and gave me a shout. Blimey, things have come on. It was amazing. Walk in twin showers (not my idea of fun), a deep bath and luxury fittings everywhere. There was even a small note that read ‘Feel free to take the toiletries’. For a moment I considered unscrewing the sink but then remembered that I was not here to work. For the first time in my life I was happy to stay in jail for a night. We ate good food, had a few glasses of wine and then took a trip down memory lane with a game of pool in the old Visiting Room.
The next morning we sat down to a Full English which set us up for a day of sightseeing. They even had porridge on the breakfast menu but, as my old man used to say ‘Once you’ve done porridge son, you don’t want to do it again’. And that is the difference between porridge and Malmaison, because rather than leaving as planned, we booked straight back in and started again. |
