Unpaid Work

I've avoided this tender subject for too long. Whilst my good friend from Scottish&Suffolk Hong Kong discourses on potatoes, sugar and herbs I feel the need to bring in some urban reality.  Ho ho!

Those of you unaccustomed to Her Majesty's Forces of Laura Norder will be surprised to hear the truth of the matter.  Unpaid work is the latest beguiling phrase for Community Service - the apparent punishment for penal offences that just aren't serious enough to warrant overfilling the gaols.  Unpaid work can be undertaken on any day of the week, but for those of us who are earning a crust, Saturdays seem your best bet.  The Saturday Club in Bedford is a blast. Not sure about Sunday, but I gather the weekdays are slightly less spry due to the attendees being more of the social beneficiary class, and consequently less accustomed to getting their hands dirty.

Anyway, Saturday starts with a prompt rendezvous outside the Probation Service offices, where tidings are gladly exchanged and tobacco is copiously inhaled.  Round about 8.30 we decamp to whatever project is on the books for the day.  The Probation chaps run a couple of mini-buses but most of the criminals drive up in their own transport (well, I think it's theirs), so we tend to make a decent convoy through the Northern Levels.  A good Saturday could see as many as sixteen escapees from the Transportation Ships, but usually there are somewhat fewer.

Conversation usually starts concerning the missing bodies - no-one seems to care really who turns up and when.  You may very well have 200 hours to complete in a twelve-month span but it seems this is a moveable feast.  Some may have re-offended and could well be suffering three good meals a day along with all the TV you could ask for; others, like me last Saturday when my daughter came a-visiting, just have a sabbatical. Illness is an easy option for excuse but most of the lads go for the need to look after their children. All of us are parents, most many times over, so there is no shortage of relevant dependants: and the Probation Officers don't dare to question this reason for fear of child abuse, or something in that vein.

When we finally get on the road a number of possibilities arise: the Summer was a great time for re-vamping and redecorating schools.  The Chair of Governors at one of these seats of learning became a firm friend.  Not only did she make us lunch, but delivered Coky Ola and towards the end of the shift a chilled beer or two.  How we laughed!  That scene in Shawshank where Andy gets the bulls to provide cold beers as they do something on a rooftop sprang to mind.  We talk a lot about films, and exchange DVDs as often as possible.  Surprisingly many of these films have a crime-related theme.

Autumn usually sees us deforesting country parks: napalm is not allowed, but fire is positively encouraged. Tea and coffee are also well-bid during the morning.  Between tea-breaks, fag-breaks and spurious-injury-breaks we probably do about 2 hours of unpaid work...leaving 4 hours of down-time in our seven-hour shift. You do the math as Yankee Doodle Dandy likes to say!

You might consider that this account of probation is less than stressful - and you'd be right.  I have no hesitation in recommending it to any of you who maybe considering bending a law or two!  You do lose a few hours of your Saturday, that's true, but the lessons in life you learn (and probably teach from my elderly perspective) are more than worth it.

Take him away!