STALAG COMIS BLOG - PART 2

This is a continuation of my quarantine diary for my 14 days of solitary confinement at the Comis hotel/prison. For Part 1 please see the link below:

https://www.dhirubhai.net/pulse/stalag-comis-blog-part-1-ed-rogers-tep/

SC1 – April 29th: Maybe its apprehension but I don’t sleep well. So, I play Zynga poker, on my iPad, for a couple of hours. All went well, at first, and I manage to win over $1B but kissed most of it “adios” when I caught an Ace to match my Ace-King on the flop. So, I went “all in” and lost to hidden trip 4s. Good thing I don’t play poker, for a living, because I’d be swabbing Sin City toilets, to pay the rent on a flophouse, if I did! (Zynga is a free money app for poker players that aren’t expert enough to play professionally). * I get up about 6.30 am, as I was misinformed that the Heysham coach would be leaving at about 8.30 am and it actually left at 10.00. After the Zynga disaster, the second disappointment of the day is breakfast, which is a “baggy”. I opt for a couple of cold croissants, (no butter or jam provided), which I wash down with orange juice and instant coffee. (Yuk). I pack the meager rest, for later consumption, which I never did consume. After a shower and a change of clothes, I sit in my Indigo Hotel room waiting to be summoned for my pre-ferry health check, which consists of a nurse sticking a contact thermometer in an ear. Eventually, the summons comes and I stagger down to the waiting area, with my luggage, which is far more than anyone else’s thanks to the huge volume of “goodies”, clothes, footwear and an assortment of electronics including a laptop, 2 iPads, 2 smartphones and 2 headphones. To carry all that “gear”, I have two suitcases, (one large and one small), a rucksack and a wheeled “carry on” bag. It was quite a strain getting said luggage from Birkenhead to Manchester, so I am grateful that a DOI coordinator, called Tom, helps me to carry the suitcases to the coach after I have passed the health check. (I won’t see the suitcases until they are checked for “contraband” at Heysham).  *We are “socially distanced”, on the coach, and the journey to Heysham is otherwise uneventful. So, we arrive at the port just before noon. I have never been to Heysham before but there isn’t much to entice me back. “Grey” and “Grim” seem to be the most appropriate adjectives, to describe, and the overcast sky reinforces the somber mood.  Heysham port seems more conformed to handle freight traffic but there is a weighting area for passengers. So, we spend about an hour there while other passengers, who hadn’t been at the Indigo Hotel, also get their temperatures checked. We soon discover that a number of those passengers are not returning residents (RRs) but have been classified as “Essential Workers”, which means they only have to self-isolate, at most, on arrival in the IOM. No solitary confinement, for those fortunate souls, even though most are not habitually resident in the IOM. Some RRs are further incensed by this evidence of the obvious discrimination that we are enduring! * We are ordered to return to the coach, which then drives onto the ferry, after the aforementioned contraband check, which was a bit odd, as they only checked my small suitcase and not the larger case (where most of the goodies were stashed!). After embarkation, we were then escorted to a “Premium” Lounge and ordered to sit in a pre-selected seat, (as in pre-selected for us and not by us!). The sailing was pleasant enough and passengers are provided with tea, coffee, juice, soft drinks and water plus a selection of sandwiches. I had two black coffees, a bottle of water and two sandwiches (just in case the Stalag Comis food was as bad as we had been advised). Douglas was bathed in sunshine and looking pretty, when we arrived, which made it seem more welcoming than Heysham. That feeling of welcome was soon diminished when we were told that we would have to sign a form confirming that we agreed with all the terms and conditions of our “imprisonment”. I was advised, by other passengers, that the penalty, for not signing the form, was 3 months in Jurby prison and a ￡10,000 fine. I signed, without voicing a complaint, but other passengers added the words “under duress” beside their signatures. We had disembarked the coach, to sign the forms, and we then sat or stood in the late-afternoon sunshine waiting for our police escort to arrive. When the Gestapo finally put in their appearance, it was back on the coach and we were driven up to Stalag Comis where our luggage was removed, from the coach, and we were duly escorted to our solitary confinement rooms. * It was now about 5.30 pm and it felt surreal to be confined to a room, and knowing that I couldn’t exit, at any time I chose, while the sun was still shining through the windows. (The room doors are not locked but they are alarmed, meaning that an alarm goes off if you open the door for anything more than a few seconds). With nothing much else to do, I unpacked and waited for the dinner that I had pre-selected at the Heysham ferry dock. It was also minimal choice and I had opted for a pork satay starter, a chicken burger and cheese & biscuits. Dinner was announced by a loud knock on the door and I duly collected my tray. (No sign of the server who had already disappeared). Dinner was served on paper plates and was already congealing by the time that I lifted the foil off. So, I quickly poured a glass of Shiraz and started in. Although lukewarm, the satay was enhanced by the sweet chili sauce that it was served with. The chicken burger was a major disappointment as the accompanying chips were inedible and the buns didn’t look that good either. So, I removed the chicken, from the buns, and topped it, with the rest of the chili sauce, while the remainder of the main course went in a large green bin bag, which we had been provided with for garbage. Having consumed the chicken, I then started on the cheese and biscuits with the cheese choice being stilton, brie and cheddar. All OK apart from the cheddar, as the thin crust evidenced that it had been left out too long. The biscuits consisted of two savory crackers and what appeared to be a small brick, which was quickly dispatched to the bin bag too. * I was not exactly sated, by dinner, but it had filled the “pie hole”. I had already hooked up my laptop to join the Stalag Comis Facebook group, which is a group that tries to give mutual support to other inmates during this trying experience. So, I tried to catch up on my work emails as well. However, I was too dispirited by the experience, to date, to be that productive. So, I gave up and began reading the only book, which I had brought with me, and was then equally disappointed to discover that I had already read it previously but thankfully so long ago that I couldn’t remember the whole story. I also opened the bottle for my nightcap, which was a Glenfiddich Special Reserve that I had purchased in the British Virgin Islands back in 2004. I’m not sure why I waited so long, to sample it, but maybe I was waiting for a special occasion, for the Special Reserve, such as being “banged up” in solitary confinement for the first-ever time! Needless to say that my first taste was exquisite!

SC2 – April 30th: Maybe it was the single-malt, but I slept remarkably well for my first night in solitary. (Although it was more likely the fact that I didn’t get much sleep the previous two nights). Some things struck me immediately. The first worrying thought was that this was going to my first full day in solitary and the second was that this was the end of the first third of the year. (2020 is going too quickly despite all the negative experiences to date). The other worrying thing was that the plunger, which was supposed to give me nice ground coffee, had not survived the journey. I did call the Stalag receptionist to enquire whether I could borrow one but got the equivalent of a “No Way Jose”! So, I was going to have to endure yukky instant coffee with breakfast! * My breakfast order was brown bread, fruit salad and poached eggs with bacon and sausages. A knock on the door came and I discovered that the hot items were missing. So, I decided to keep the fruit salad, for later, and started on the brown bread with the further disappointment that the bread was not toasted! 15 minutes later there was another knock on the door, which I opened to reveal another breakfast tray with all the hot items ordered plus more fruit salad and bread. So, I suspect the first tray was someone else’s breakfast. The hot items were not so hot as they were again served on paper plates. *So far, my only real joy, apart from the Glenfiddich, is getting the 11 am to noon exercise slot, which I wanted. With breakfast being served around 9 am that gives me time to scoff it down and have a second cup of Yuk, before enjoying a long, leisurely shower in the spacious bathroom. (During good times, the Comis is supposed to be a 4-star hotel). Then, I put on my only jeans and trainers, with a sweatshirt top, for the exercise period. At 11 am there is a knock on the door and I am escorted to the “yard”. The yard is also a disappointment, as it slopes down considerably from the Stalag’s back door, which means that it is hard to walk around without turning an ankle. In addition, the only weights are too heavy for repetitions. My exercise companions are 3 women of varying ages and only the youngest tries the weights but soon gives up. Nevertheless, it is nice to be out in the sunshine after being cooped up in one room for so long. I also enjoy a chat with the ladies, whom all have their own RR woes to retell before we are all escorted back to our rooms at noon. That’s the morning over and it has gone relatively quickly. But from noon to “sack time”, I now face the dreaded prospect of being stuck in the room, with no relief, for hours on end. * Lunch is another “baggy” and instead of the ham sandwich and steak & ale crisps, which I had ordered, I get a cheese and pickle sandwich and cheese & onion crisps. (At least I got the tangerine that I had also ordered). After two cups of Yuk, I decide to have tea instead and squeeze a little lemon juice into it, as I don’t take milk in tea or coffee. I eat the crisps first and then one half of the sandwich with the rest going in my “getting well used” bin bag. I then do a clean-up, including putting the single malt back in its tin. I don’t know what route the Glenfiddich took from Scotland to the BVI but it has gone thousands of miles since. It spent more years at our Florida house than my Green Card holder wife. From Florida, it then went to Northern Ireland before ending its journey in the IOM. Almost a full-circle, as you can see Scotland from the IOM on a clear day. (When I empty the bottle, I might keep it as a memento of my Stalag Comis days!). * It is now about 2 pm and I know that I have at least another 8 to 9 hours to get through before “sack time”. I have decided, during the exercise period, that it will be important to keep busy so that the long hours of solitude do not prey on your mind. Fortunately, I have a stack of work emails to answer and once I have gone through them, I have decided to chronicle my solitary confinement days by writing Part 1 of the Stalag Comis Blog. Good idea, it seems, but I discover that the small desk, in room 310, is not ideal for working at, which is kind of surprising for a hotel that is often used by business travelers in pre-pandemic days. (I need to have a not so quiet word with whoever awarded the 4th star or get 50% of his kickback instead!). * Nevertheless, I have made good progress with the Blog by the time I get the dinner knock on the door. As the pork satay was edible, I had reordered it (because the minimalist menu only changes every two days) but there was no sweet chili sauce this time. (Shame). I wasn’t going to make the chicken burger mistake again so I ordered the vegetarian lasagna instead. Although one look at that unappetizing brick meant that it was bin bag time again! So, I dug into some of my precious snacks before trying the Stalag’s “gluten-free” ice-cream, which was actually quite good! As dinner wasn’t much more than a sip of Shiraz, I decided to end my evening with an American brandy, which is known as “The Christian Brothers VS”. It’s not quite as good as a French cognac but surprisingly palatable, considering it only costs $10 for a 750 ml bottle!

SC3 – 1st May: Day 3 at the Comis is much like Day 2. Although I get exactly what I ordered for breakfast and it comes on a china plate, so it is much warmer. (We eventually discover that the paper plate days are over, as a consequence, I am sure, of the mass of complaints that “the management” have received regarding same). I order the same hot items but ditch the brown bread for a croissant, which is more appetizing when served untoasted. Using what’s left of the plunger, I also jury rig a plastic cup so I can enjoy a cup of ground coffee, with breakfast, instead of Yuk.  However, it’s too much like hard work to do it more than once a day, which means that I make do with Yuk for the second cup. Then its shower time again before exercise time in the yard. *As I have been wearing the same jeans, for two days in a row, I make do with a pair of blue Dockers, for this exercise period, as I don’t want my exercise companions to think that I am even more of a slob than I look. My sweatshirt, this time, is a plain blue item that I retrieved from a bag, which my wife would have given to charity if it wasn’t for the pandemic. Not exactly natty but evidently different from the one that I was wearing on Day 2. Although when I get to the yard there is only one exercise companion and not three. A bit surprising, as I usually don’t bore women that quickly. (Slowly but surely is more my modus operandi). Nevertheless, it gives me the opportunity to have a challenging "work out" even if yesterday’s weights have disappeared for “cleaning”. I also am not walking around the yard, as I did on Day 2, but power walking up and down the slope, as that gives a better cardio burn and there is less chance of twisting an ankle. *Exercise is over way too soon and then its back to the room for more hours of solitary. Lunch is another baggy but this time I do get what I ordered on Day 2. The rest of the afternoon is essentially a repeat of Day 2. Emails and working on the Blog. Then it’s dinner time. *I am not quite sure what I chose for an appetizer but it’s soon in the big bag and the main course is a Thai chicken curry. It’s OK, after I spice it up, with some hot pepper sauce, but not brilliant. Although good enough to enjoy an accompanying glass of my fast diminishing Shiraz. The cheesecake is also quite nice and for my nightcap, I finish off the Tennessee bourbon that I enjoyed on SC0. (I know what you are thinking but the bottle wasn’t much larger than a miniature!). Before bed, I finish and publish Part 1 of the Blog on LinkedIn. Then I send the link to the FB sites for RRs.

SC 4: I wake up to find that my blog has been well received, and I am getting many compliments, which is gratifying, as I take pride in my writing skills. I was a voracious reader, as a kid, and even thought of being an author, as a career. Although I discovered, when trying to write a novel, that writing was really hard work and I probably wasn’t good enough to make it professionally. Just, as well, as I am sure that I enjoyed a much better time kicking around Caribbean islands, and various other exotic places, during my trust-business career. Rose-tinted memories create the impression that said career was effectively a long never-ending, alcohol-fueled shindig! Although there wasn’t much else to do other than to booze and/or party when the sun dropped below the horizon, on those warm Caribbean nights, and I was in the Caribbean for almost 15 years. It didn’t help that I can’t ever recall enduring a headache and that meant that I was often anticipating another wild night, after a massive bender,  when my accompanying friends and/or colleagues were still in a sorry state and (temporarily) swearing off alcohol for life! (In my younger days, I even used to proclaim that it wasn’t a really good night unless I had a “blackout”!). Fueling the intemperance was the fact that spirits were often cheaper than their accompanying mixers, which meant that a “Cuba Libre” was effectively a tall glass of rum with just a splash of coke. (I’ve even been in Caribbean bars where the bartender would just hand you a bottle of your chosen spirit and you “poured your own”). The insobriety did not seem to affect my career much, either, as I enjoyed more managing director roles than most. Although that’s probably because many of my trust business colleagues, and even some of my seniors, were serious “party animals” too! My hard-drinking days are long past, (even though it’s a minor miracle that I survived them relatively unscathed), and it seems that I am pretty fit. for my age, as I have only had one sick day, in the past 20 years, and I’m not on any meds yet! * My past-life musings are interrupted by breakfast, which is the usual poached eggs, sausage and bacon. As on Day 3, I stick to my routine of having a post-breakfast shower and getting dressed for exercise. It is a nice day, in the yard, and one of our missing ladies has rejoined us. Annette tells us that she was feeling indisposed, yesterday, but did not report it, as she didn’t want the IOM government (or the Stalag staff) to think she had COVID-19. (Annette now suspects that she only had a touch of food poisoning brought on by a dodgy egg-mayonnaise sandwich, which was in her baggy lunch). We all agree that she did the right thing, by not reporting, as we believe the government might have used her illness, as a justification for keeping us incarcerated, and Annette might have also endured an extension to her sentence (at her own expense) to ensure that she was virus-free. (Annette is a pensioner, with a very modest income, and she can’t even afford the current stint of solitary without significant financial hardship!). * Exercise over and it’s back to the room for more solitary and the usual baggy lunch of a sandwich, a packet of crisps and a tangerine. (I can see that the lack of variety will soon add to the quarantine pain!). We have been advised that we are permitted one care package, to be delivered to the Stalag, and that care package can now include wine and beer but not spirits. (For the original batch of RRs, all alcohol was “Verboten” and it is alleged that security staff searched care packages, without permission, and confiscated any “contraband” items discovered!). With the relaxation of the rules, I contact my neighbour, Kerena, who has access to my IOM house when I am away. I ask Kerena to put various items of clothing into a carry-on bag and to also try and find room for 8 cans of beer and two bottles of wine. The care package is delivered, around 4 pm, and I am disappointed to find that Kerena only included 4 bottles of beer with the wine. Any beer is better than no beer but I am going to have to ration my consumption! Nevertheless, I am also thankful to see that Kerena has included all the extra underwear, which I also requested, as that should mean that I have enough to last the whole 14 days. (You can get laundry service, in Stalag Comis, but our jailors charge ￡15 a bag and I am not inclined to pay that much). Kerena has also included the replacement plunger, which I requested, and that means that I should be spared from ingesting any more Yuk, as I have one full bag and two half bags of ground coffee. * I am working on this part 2 of the Stalag Comis Blog, later in the afternoon, and I receive a phone call from a nice-sounding lady, called Sue, who tells me that she is from the “Community Home Assessment Team” and enquiring about my mental health. I tell her that my mental health would be a lot better if I wasn’t stuck in solitary confinement! The lady mutters words of sympathy and says she can call me every day, if that will make me feel better, but I am of the opinion that daily calls, from a government spokesman, would only prove detrimental to my mental health! So, we agree that she will just call me on Monday and Friday. The lady then asks “Do you need any medications?” and I respond “the only medication that I really need is beer”. She sounds a little surprised when she queries “Can’t you buy that at the Comis” and I reply “Yes, but it’s too expensive”. There’s a poignant pause and then the lady states “I am sorry but I can’t help you with that”. (Getting free beer out of the government was always a long-shot but one of my business mottos is “If you don’t ask then you don’t get!”). *The other Saturday “highlight” is getting fresh towels, which will happen every 3rd day. Then the rest of the long hours, before “sack time”, are only punctuated by dinner, which is a repeat of Day 2’s dinner apart from the desert. That proves to be a form of coconut and berry mush, which also rapidly acquaints itself with the bin bag. (I should have stuck to the gluten-free ice cream!). I decide to wash down the chicken curry with one of my precious bottles of beer as I had already finished the dregs of the Shiraz while consuming some peanuts prior to the evening meal. The beer is a Ruby Hobgoblin at 5.2% alcohol, which is strong for a bottled beer, but a solitary bottle is going to have a negligible effect on my mental faculties.  My nightcap is another small glass of the delightful Glenfiddich!

SC5 – 3rd May: Day 5 kicks off just like Day 4, with the usual poached eggs, sausages and bacon. But now I have my replacement plunger, which means that I enjoy 3 good cups of a Costa Coffee Mocha Italian blend. (Bye-bye Yuk, as you didn’t make the grade and you won’t be missed!). Then it’s the usual post-breakfast shower and getting ready for exercise. Although I now have a fresher pair of blue jeans and a fresh sweatshirt too, which is just well, as we have our full complement of ladies in the yard. I ask Edie, who is a university student and the youngest person in our exercise group, why she had been missing for the past two days. Her response was that her only pair of trainers got wet, during our first exercise period, and she was indisposed on Day 4. The suspected cause is another dodgy egg mayonnaise sandwich that was consumed on Day 3. (I also munched on an egg mayonnaise sandwich, on Day 4, with no ill effects, but that’s probably the last egg sandwich that I will order!). It’s a beautiful day, which is unusual, as many IOM spring weekends are hampered by inclement weather. So, I know the sun will be shining through my window, as I am “banged up” in solitary for the rest of the day. The sun proved to be something of a curse, as it heated up the room and there appears to be no air-conditioner, which meant that it got uncomfortably warm even though I was just wearing a T-shirt and shorts.  (I tried to open the window but it was locked). * After exercise, I am back in the room for the usual uninspiring baggy lunch. I can see I have a stack of work emails, waiting for me, but I decide to concentrate on the Blog instead, as it’s a Sunday. (I long ago discovered that if you answer emails, which are sent to you on weekends, then you will have even more to deal with before Monday “kicks off”). Nevertheless, I do some work, after dinner, but I am hoping that the recipients are asleep or otherwise engaged, when I press the email “send” button. *Dinner is supposed to be a Sunday roast beef and roast potatoes with a medley of vegetables. So, I open my only bottle of Malbec in gleeful anticipation. Although I should have waited until I peeled back the foil, as there are no "roasties". Instead, there is the largest and stodgiest Yorkshire pudding that I have ever seen! A disappointment but at least the bacon and brie tart starter was pretty good. I am so full, after the Yorkie, that I don’t even look at the desert but decide to save it as a breakfast starter for Day 6. My nightcap is another wee dram of the cherished Glenfiddich, which also finishes my first weekend in Stalag Comis!