Well folks, it’s that time again. Valentine’s Day is upon us and no doubt some very lucky ladies will be receiving rings on February 14th. My other half has been saving up to buy me a ring, but putting away 25p a week out of his cleaning job wages is taking its toll on his canteen. I wouldn’t want him to go without his Mars Bars, so I told him to forget it. It’s looking like the only ring I am ever likely to have is the one up my clacker. Praise the Lord for the coil! Well at least I don’t feel left out, plus it’s the only ring I’m never asked to take off during a search when I visit him in the clink! I’ve never really had a normal Valentine’s Day. My mates have had flowers, perfume, clothes and jewellery. I’ve had a matchstick spectacle case, a matchstick antidepressant holder, and a matchstick pen holder. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful, but it’s the not the same really is it. I’m not sure what he’s made me this year to add to my collection, but whatever it is, you can be sure I will treasure it. I’m going back some years now, but there was one occasion when we did have a ‘normal’ Valentine’s Day. He decided to abscond from HMP Kirkham and made me a romantic meal over at his Mum’s house. He cooked me fish fingers, Alphabet Potato Shapes, and Beans, and stuck a match in a dollop of blue-tack (those bloody matchsticks again!) because obviously he didn’t have time to go and buy steak and scented candles whilst crouched down in the bog on the Blackpool North to Bolton, Pennine Express train. He said he had to hide in the loo because he was petrified that someone would recognise him in the carriage. His mug shot appeared in the local rag in 1986, so unless the Prison Service give out free Botox, veneers, and supply inmates with regular bottles of Grecian 2000, he needn’t have worried. It’s a bit concerning though isn’t it. It was 2001 at the time so if he thought he still looked the same 15 years on then our first bedroom encounter when he gets out is going to be horrendous for me! The only thing I can think of is to tell him that I’d been extremely foolish having a tattoo of the London Underground Tube Station on my belly. It would take too long to explain to him what stretch marks are, so that’s my only option really! Honestly! Anyway, back to the romantic absconding Valentine’s meal over at his Mother’s. He tried his best under the circumstances and I like Fish fingers so it was a thumb’s up for me. What did surprise me the most was the gift he gave to me. “What did he get you?” His Mum asked. “He bought me a bag and a belt Mother.” I replied. “That’s lovely!” She whispered. “Well at least the hoover will work properly now!” I mumbled back! What’s the famous saying? It’s the thought that counts? Obviously I didn’t buy him anything because I didn’t know he was going to jockey over the CAT D wall and come home so I slipped a fiver in his Valentine’s card so he could get a taxi to the Police Station when he handed himself in. He wasn’t happy with that idea whatsoever because he said he may as well make use of the free public transport on offer, so he rang the Police, booked one of their vans and asked them to pick him up. He gave me the fiver back and told me to put it towards a postal order and a book of stamps for him when he gets back to the clink! Who said romance was dead? Bloody cremated more like!
Prison Widow UK