It must be realised that prison atmosphere is so terribly depressing, and has such an inescapable way of wearing down and subduing a person, that this little incident cheered our lads up quite considerably. They all burst out laughing and set them up into a fighting mood. Such seemingly unimportant, little incidents were of tremendous importance helping to lift morale in prison. [38] In Birmingham I worked in the tailor's shop, shoes were also repaired there. This prison shop was located on the edge of the exercise yard. It did not take me long to realise that if I left a lot of trousers or jackets unfinished, I could then take them back to my cell, truly a God-send to keep me warm at night. One day, one of our lads, Sean Nolan, a very lightly built, delicate youngster who worked with me in the tailor's shop, was moved from stitching clothes to mending shoes. No use taking shoes back to one's cell to keep warm! So, I spoke to an old convict who usually had all the answers and knew every trick in the book. He advised me to tell my friend to keep on botching and to ruin as many shoes as he could. No matter how often work were explained or shown to him, he was to go on making a complete mess of all repair work given to him. Well, it worked like a charm! Within a week Sean was back on stitching trousers and warm at night! By this time each of us was allowed two books every two weeks. I'll never forget that the first lot I got was a book on English history and the second a book on Botany and Horticulture. I complained to one of the warders, a quite decent man by the name of Chamberlain, and he advised me to talk to the Catholic Chaplain but I told him that I had already tried without success and that all I got from that character was sarcasm. So, the warder suggested I try the Church of England Chaplain, and along to my cell he came. A very kindly, warm-hearted gentleman, he wanted to know right away what was on my mind. So, I told him I would appreciate some good reading material that would interest me. He picked first the one then the other book and tried to convince me that they were in fact most interesting, the history book, he said, was truly excellent. So, I told him quite frankly that I really had not come over to read about the History of England, that my people probably knew more about that history than any other race and that, in addition, I personally was not keen on rereading anything about the Cromwells, the Henry VIIIs, or Elizabeths. As for the book on Botany I thought that a pretty peculiar subject for any prisoner locked up in a cell, I told him. Smiling, my visitor then said, "Oh, NOW I know who and what you are. A "Sin Finner", isn't that right?" All the British used that slang term when describing any active soldier on the Irish side. I just nodded and grinned along with him. Nonetheless, this Church of England Chaplain remained very friendly and very kindly [39] suggested that I have a look at the Prison Library catalogue. I eagerly accepted, and it was here that for the first time, I had a real chance of reading up on the American War of Independence. It was a delightful and most educating book which gave me real knowledge of the American Revolution and how the States defeated England. Prison rations were very insufficient and being young and healthy, I was hungry all the time. It was then that I always found some consolation just thinking of Seamus Quinlan, Cork and, that no matter how badly I felt, poor Seamus must surely feel far worse. Seamus had been with me in Cork Jail complaining almost day and night that he was so terribly hungry so much so, that one day, moved almost to tears by his misery, I managed to steal two loaves of bread handing them over to him that afternoon. His face was literally transfigured with the pure joy he felt and, immediately he gulped down the two loaves down to the last crumb. Looking at him, I realised he certainly would not have said "No" to even a third loaf! Fortunately, I did not know at the time what prison he had been sent to and only learned of it a year later when I met Seamus in Cork. In reply to my question, he told me he had been in Wandworth Prison, London. "Well, and how did you manage about the food?" I wanted to know. "Oh, the food was fine and plenty of it!" he answered smugly. This greatly surprised me for I knew that with the exception of Brixton, the food in all British prisons was uniformly scarce and mediocre. But when Seamus then added that he had had a job in the prison cookhouse, I saw the light, and all I could think of was that it was just as well I had not known this while in Birmingham prison. Instead of comforting myself with thoughts about "poor, starving Seamus", I would probably have gone half crazy with my craving for food; as it was, it was agonizing enough!
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