big fish

The prison officer greets me as he walks past. Stops. "I've seen you before," he says. "Last year. I work at the remand prison."

Does he mean when B was being held there? I'm cautious. "I want to be your friend," the says. He's in his -- what -- late 30s? Early 40s? "If it's convenient."

There are several things this could mean:

1) he -- his name is Fish -- is CIO, has recognised me, wants to watch me.
2) he is interested in not just friendship, eager to find out whether some of the things they say about white women (more accessible, let's put it) are true
3) he wants to show he is friendly to whites. Often when the vitriol's at its worst, people in the streets go out of their way to appear genuinely friendly, I've noticed. Like they're trying to prove they don't think like the president says they should.

"Come into the shade to swap phone numbers," he says. We stand by the telephone offices. I keep him talking for a few minutes, stressing the words "in-laws" and "child" in case it's number 2.

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