Ministers wife in prison for Faslane protest

As a minister's wife Molly Harvey was an unlikely prison inmate, but she tells RON FERGUSON about her three days in the notorious Cornton Vale Prison Molly Harvey, a 62-year-old minister's wife from Glasgow, has often visited Cornton Vale prison for women. Her most recent visit was different. This time the mother of four and grandmother of five was in the notorious jail to serve a sentence for non-payment of a fine. Along with fellow members of the Iona Community, Molly Harvey was arrested after taking part in a communion service and sitting in the road outside Faslane military base. She refused to pay the £150 fine, and was summoned before the Means Enquiry Court in Glasgow. These are excerpts from her diary:

Friday, 9.15am - in court and very nervous "The non-payment of my fine is a continuation of my protest against the British government's possession of weapons of mass destruction." "You realise I have no alternative but to send you to prison?" "Yes, and I'm prepared to accept the consequences of my action." "Seven days in Cornton Vale." Officer who took me out: "What did you go and do that for? I'm sorry I'm going to have to lock you in."

10.30am "We're going to transfer you to Turnbull Street. Are you going to give me any grief?" "No." "Then I'll not put you in handcuffs. Are you a teacher or something?" At Turnbull Street, searched, and all property gone through by lovely wee woman officer. "I'll just get you a wee cup of tea." Then almost immediately to sheriff court, handcuffed. Over the river and into Gorbals. Not easy to get out of the van with handcuffs on. Into the cages below the sheriff court - one to myself, about the size of our bathroom. A lot of coming and going. Men's cages down to right - couldn't see them, but could hear constant stream of Glasgow patter, effing and blinding, yelling, drunken roaring. Hey, Turren Key, you've got a great pair of legs." "Turren Key, I need a s****, now." "I've got an audience with the Pope at three o'clock." "F*** the Strathclyde Polis."

4.30pm Taken to Corton Vale. Scariest bit of all was being driven in a police van, four of us handcuffed to one another, at what seemed to be a very high speed. Reception, registration, taken by officer to cubicle. Issued with towel and bathrobe. Strip-searched, then shower - on own - and back to cubicle where wee pile of clean clothes was waiting: T-shirt (green), sweatshirt (grey), trousers (black), new knickers (three pairs, white, flowery), and socks (two pairs, white). Seen by nurse and by officer (male) in a wee cubicle. He questions me as to any concerns I might have, and whether I might commit suicide. Taken over to the Younger Unit, which feels tatty and run-down. Given a pint of milk and a packet of teabags and shown to my cell: bunk beds down one side, counter-top down the other, on which sat a telly, a kettle, and two blue plastic mugs and spoons. Clean bedding and "welcome" pack with toothbrush and paste, shampoo, comb, and soap. Told I'll be having someone else in with me. Wonder how I'll cope if it's a gallous young lassie out of her mind with drugs. Very pleased when C arrives, middle-aged woman. Chat a bit. She'd been arrested in her house at 1am and has spent the day in police cell. She is worried, and a bit tearful, about her family. Taken to get a supply of hospital potties, for using as loo during night. Normal practice appears to be to use the sink.

Saturday and Sunday Very much the same, except that on Sunday we're asked if anybody wants to go to church. I'm in toast queue which is fairly important, so I don't - a few do. Medication queue. Offered hepatitis B jag - might as well take whatever's going. Has to be followed up by own GP in a month. (Imagine the question: "Where did you get the first jag?") Meal and medication queues are point of contact with rest of unit (about 20-30 altogether, some on floor above us), and people tend to drop in and out of each other's cells. Several people ask what I'm in for. They're familiar with nuclear protestors - screw tells me we're known as "tree huggers". About 85% of the women in Cornton Vale are in for drugs-related offences, and many of them are mothers. Attractive young girl says she has 25 drugs-related charges, desperate to get off, and has been out and in. "I didn't think you were a druggie. My dad says that's what I should be in here for - protesting - not what I am in for." Lunch: hamburger, chips, and beans one day, baked potato and coleslaw and salad the next. "Dubbed" (locked up) for an hour or so after lunch. Doze off and am wakened with beautiful flowers sent from Stirling CND - lovely! "Ya spoi-elt bitch!" says my cellmate. We're both in tears when I leave on Monday morning. Was it worth it? I'm aware that to choose to spend three nights in Cornton Vale is not in any way comparable to the position of people in jail without choice or for a longer period of time. Spending three nights in jail must not be seen as overly dramatic or brave. It is a small cog in the wheel of the overall witness of Scottish CND and Trident Ploughshares and of countless people over many years. Overwhelming feeling of sadness at the waste of all these, mainly young, lives - and many of the girls had children. What will become of them? Maybe I could get involved in befriending after I retire - but then probably not, because of my criminal record

(printed in the Herald 1 May 2002)