She sees probation officers in "really sweet" offices within the prison building. The prison holds a family day which some of her children and grandchildren attend. It is the only day visitors can bring food into the prison and Vicky requests prawns, smoked salmon, Parma ham, Gruyère cheese, strawberries and cream. "To this day I do not understand the policy that does not allow visitors to bring treats." I can tell her that it is because it is the ideal way to smuggle drugs, SIM cards or other illicit material into the prison.  

She is released, given the standard £49 and is tagged at home that evening. The tag came off two months later.

The book is wholly self-serving, with not a jot of introspection. We learn that "no one seemed to think I should be in prison at all", whether they were a fellow guest at a chattering classes dinner party in Islington or a fellow convict.  Vicky is also surprisingly naive. She writes that most of the women in prison were there because they were "forced" to do something wrong by their husbands, boyfriends, brothers or fathers. Not once, however, does it occur to her that most prisoners, whether male or female, insist they "didn't do it" or blame others for their situation. They are also adept at telling you what they think you want to hear.

In the final section of the book she explores issues such as the cost of keeping people in prison and the alternatives to prison for women. But again she shows her naivety by complaining about the lack of access to the internet, which would, of course, be a godsend to drug barons and other criminals who want to continue their activities while still inside. 

She gave ten big prison rubbish bags full of "books and papers and lots of letters" to relatives and friends to take away before she was released. It's a pity she didn't put the notes for her book in one of them and leave it out for the binmen.