IF someone in these parts is said to be "in Bishop" he's usually a patient in the town's General Hospital, just as "in Sedgefield" meant Winterton psychiatric hospital. Being "in Durham" is something else entirely.

"Durham" is Her Majesty's Prison, Durham Jail, the Big House. Its reputation is grim, its reality - as last week's inspectors' report confirmed - sometimes little better.

"First time visitors are really fearful, totally in shock," says Ruth Cranfield. "Because they have no experience of it, they're completely disorientated. They used to have to queue outside the prison and that was awful, especially after a long journey. We try to make things a little more welcoming here."

Ruth is secretary of NEPACS, a Durham-based charity which runs visitors' centres, play areas and tea bars at prisons throughout the region. There are even two caravans on the Northumberland coast for prisoners' families.

"Some mothers tell their children they're visiting dad at the factory, others tell them the truth about prison. I really don't know which is sadder," says Sheila Seacroft, another volunteer.

The Durham visitors' centre, once an assistant governor's house in front of the forbidding old jail, is also the charity's headquarters. Officially, it's 22 Old Elvet.

It's bright, cheerful, informal, friendly. There are sitting rooms and rooms in which privately to talk; a cafe, well-equipped creche - none of the books appears to be about cops and robbers - and a youth room. "No adults allowed" it says on the door.

On the wall, there's an award from the Chester-le-Street Volunteer Bureau, naming NEPACS voluntary organisation of the year. "It's not exactly the Oscars," someone says, "but we appreciate it, nonetheless".

The charity is supported by the prison service but is independent of it, its offices determinedly without these walls. Visitors usually enter by the front door and leave, for the prison, by the back.

Dora Milburn, another of Durham's 65 volunteers, says the centre changes attitudes straight away. "You can see the anxiety falling from them. I don't think they expect smiling faces."

Out the back and out of sight sit a couple of uniformed prison officers, first contact with a harsher reality. There are locks and chains for fastening baby buggies - you never know who's about - and lockers in which personal belongings and any money over £10 must be left before entering the prison. A notice warns that the prison service will not be responsible for any loss or damage.

The two officers seem amicable - most are, says Sheila Seacroft, but they're still prison officers and they're still in uniform.

"We were quite nervous when we were first getting prison officers in the building, but we've moulded them to our ways," says Ruth. "They're quite understanding, most of them."

The officers can also be a useful fallback in the rare event of problems. "I sometimes think that people should be more angry than they are, the way they're often treated for no good reason," says Sheila.

The charity was formed in 1882 as the Durham Discharged Prisoners Aid Society, became the North-East Prisoners' After Care Society and is now simply NEPACS. Though the after care role has diminished - there are other agencies - they try to build bridges with the community and can offer small grants to released prisoners' families.

"We're trying to dispel the idea that offenders, and particularly their families, are somehow alien and nothing to do with us," says Sheila.

"We're not a very glamorous charity, but we've some of the most dedicated volunteers in the business. Keeping families together is the main thing."

Ruth Cranfield insists that the relationship isn't patronising. It's open and friendly, she adds, they know when to talk, when to listen, and when to do neither. "Sometimes prison is such a shock for the families that we're the only ordinary people they can talk to."

It's a fairly quiet day when we visit the visitors' centre; Saturdays, they say, are "bedlam". One or two volunteers are recalling a visit by "Mr Reynolds and his henchmen". It could be any Mr Reynolds, of course.

There are leaflets headed "Escape" and "Liberty" - freedom from drugs, not going over the wall - others about understanding search procedures and what can be taken in to a prisoner.

For some strange reason, newspapers and magazines can only be bought from Martin's in North Road. Magazines in the visitors' centre range from Bella to A Love Supreme, a Sunderland FC fanzine and thus relevant to a punitive regime.

The centre operates seven days a week, helpers ranging from university students to pensioners. They're co-ordinated by June Diffey.

"The prison service are rightly concerned with security, we're concerned with prisoners and their families," she says.

"Our job is to make people feel as comfortable as possible, to give them as much information as possible and to help with problems where we can."

Despite their efforts and their evangelism - there was even a talk to Stanley WMC, a night to remember - the image remains, for want of a better word, institutionalised.

"Someone said the other day that if I wanted to help a good cause, why didn't I work at a hospital or something," says Dora. "We've still a lot to do."

They'd much welcome volunteers, members (minimum £5 annually) or donations. Alternatively, of course, just pay the visitors' centre a visit. "Let's just say," says Dora, "that most people are a lot less worried when they leave here than they are when they come in".

* NEPACS, 22 Old Elvet, Durham DH1 3HW (0191-332 3676)

www.thisisthenortheast.co.uk

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