Waterford City 1971.
Waterford prison (or gaol), which I first looked for, is now no more and the landscape is much improved by it’s absence. On the first night of my incarceration there the kindly night warder let himself into my cell with the excellent intention of trying to cheer me up. The good man explained that I did not have to wear prison clothes, that I could procure books from the library, that I could have meals sent in, that I would exercise in the yard for an hour every day, and so forth. The poor man finally ran out of goodies and with a deep sigh he said “But this place was not built for anyone’s pleasure. With this wise Buddhist remark he left me for the night.
My next visit was to the Infantry barracks which has been rebuilt and looks almost exactly the same a when I left it. I wanted to see the office again where I used to worry on my lonesome about my responsibilities. The caretaker said the office sergeant had the key, the sergeant said it was in the possession of the transport man and he in turn sent me to see the captain in the officer’s quarters. The captain’s wife said he might be around somewhere but, perhaps, he had gone into town for the day. So I did not get to see.