Most of all I will never forget the feeling. The white clammy fear, anticipation and dread the overwhelming feeling of the unknown. I could never quite understand why I felt so bad, considering I had just left the " Big Hoose " in Edinburgh. Nevertheless, I did and it was bad, so bad I thought I might revisit breakfast in a lay-by. So, there I was in the Meat Wagon heading to " The Ranch " otherwise known as H.M.P Shotts. .
I was in the van with Harvie and six screws. Harvie looked pretty much how I felt; we never spoke the whole journey. We just watched the passing world, with a heavy heart.
It was strange being outside again after six months inside nothing had changed yet it all looked so different from inside the bubble. Travelling along the motorway, houses - cars - little lives within their nice little boxes. It was as if I was trapped inside a Film looking out at the world, cannot interact with them. No matter how much I wanted to. .
The screws joked and laughed, it must be so standard for them. .
Soon we left the motorway and it's vein of life, carrying people to their place of work, college or school. All so normal. Travelling through winding, curling roads. .
Then it was there, right there in front of me. Sunk deep into the land, as if it had fallen from above. This giant synthetic structure. My first impression was that I had landed in an apocalyptic Auswitch. The halls were joined in an H like shape surrounded by other similar buildings. However, nothing was deliberately clear in view. In addition, fences all around stacks of them with razor wire slicing the country air.
We crawled to the front gate heart pounding, radio voices; it opens its jaw's and draws us in. Huckled out like cattle in a market and into the pen for the farmers to take their pick. We are given towels and told to wash, before we are given prison issue clothes. .
And all through t his I keep looking, looking at the door. That door that I shall not see again for another two years.
