Category: education

Two women and two men smiling and talking live on a theatre stage

Does your sentence end when you leave prison?

Author: | 4 Nov 2025

It was a wonderful evening at the Apollo Theatre in London on Tuesday 28 October when, after a performance of Punch, based on the memoir of our scholar Jacob Dunne, the Longford Trust put on a post-show Q&A session on the topic, raised in the play, of the challenges that face prisoners on release.

Listen to the audio recording of the panel Q&A here.

 

On stage were (pictured left to right): our Employability Manager and Longford Scholar Roxanne Foster; multi-award-winning screenwriter (Time, Unforgiveable, Hillborough) Jimmy McGovern: and current Longford Scholar Andrew Morris. Hosting the conversation was Ronke Phillips, ITN broadcaster and wife of Kevin Pakenham.

This event was one in a series of post-show talks, curated by The Forgiveness Project, with more to come before Punch closes its West End run on 29 November.

The conversation took as its theme the question, ‘Does your sentence end when you leave prison?’ Ronke asked the panel in turn, and then the audience (some two-thirds of people who had watched the show stayed on to join in with this event), how willing they thought employers and the public are to believe in reform and rehabilitation. The panel shared stories, setbacks and suggestions .

Thank you to all those involved for an insightful, funny and uplifting discussion.

Punch was written by James Graham – winner of the 2024 Kevin Pakenham Prize.

Photo credit: Jake Bush at Punch the play.

A pumpkin pie with a face decorated in sugar

‘The week I learned to cry’

Author: | 4 Nov 2025

Our recent graduate Douglas Edgar has just returned from a prestigious writers’ retreat at Villa Pia in Umbria, made possible by one of our travelling scholarships. In reflecting on the lessons learnt, he hopes the next step will be to realise his ambition for a creative arts career.

‘Forza Nonna’ was the cheer as Sondra, from Rochester, New York, poured custard into the famous ‘Torta della Nonna’ base. Translated as ‘grandmother cake’, there are two layers of short-crust pastry filled with vanilla custard, hints of lemon zest, all covered in powdered sugar. I met a Nonna once – Brooklyn-based and South Italian-born. Fierce, vain, and shameless with set blonde hair, long red nails and tattooed eyebrows, well into her 90s. An Italian Mary Berry.

Enrolling in the cookery class at the writers’ retreat, I saw the opportunity to move away from my go-to meal of chicken breast, rice and broccoli. Umbria is a place where vegetables have real flavour. However, I saw three pots on the stove at one time and thought ‘cooking’s not for me’. Alas, five fellow retreaters and Gessy, the in-house chef, combined to make the following from scratch:

  1. Lasagna with ragu sauce.
  2. Spinach and ricotta ravioli with sage and butter sauce.
  3. Semola (not semolina) gnocchi with truffled béchamel.
  4. Vanilla panna cotta with forest fruits.
  5. Torta della Nonna.

Being the second group to cook, I felt pressured to beat the previous day’s class, so I spent 30 minutes drawing a pumpkin stencil to level up our Nonna cake. Consulting with my artist-cum-culinary neighbour, Tania, I cut the stencil and rubbed the pencil marks off the steel worktops. The lasagna came out of the oven and victory was in sight. We’d made one more pasta dish than yesterday’s group and had a pumpkin on top of a cake.

I know people will want my top Italian-cooking tip, so here it is: ‘cut out the eyes, nose and mouth for the perfect stencil’. I’m joking, but I have tried to remember when I have learned, and in summary, I prefer eating food a lot more than preparing it.

Beyond cooking

Cooking was an escape from writing. I cried more this week than I had in the past 10 years combined. On a foggy day, I built the fire in the dining room whilst a peer explained how she became her mum’s primary carer in the final stages of cancer treatment. The damage from radiotherapy would cause skin to erode into her mouth, making her choke at night.

Up to five years after her passing, she emptied the washing basket and would see her mother’s nightie on the floor, choosing not to wash it to keep a part of her there. Not for the smell but for presence. I’ve never been so affected by words, and I began to cry uncontrollably – a soul captured in a nightdress.

We discussed the logistics – the inflatable mattress beside the hospital bed – but it would never be written about. Instead, she chose to re-write a dystopian novel. Feeling that thousands would benefit from her experience, sci-fi seemed like a distraction, but hearing her story reminded me to dig-deep and face the subjects I’m avoiding.

Souls collide

Inevitably, some people would work out that my fellow Longford scholar and I were ex-prisoners. It would be exciting for them, like Shawshank Redemption in real life, or Le ali della libertà as the Italians would say. Was he a Hatton Garden robber? Maybe a mass murderer?

I overheard someone worry that they were becoming institutionalised by Villa Pia’s ritual of cake at 4pm, which made me reflect on my somewhat different experience. Conversation helped to diffuse the tension, and some of us would sit for hours into the night, talking through the fluff, and their payment would be gruesome tales of prison.

Friday night’s gala rounded off with karaoke, facilitated by yours truly. More importantly, everyone shared a few minutes of writing to the group. Another peer’s story was based around an AI imposter’s attempt to infiltrate the retreat, analysing human interactions whilst fighting off the occasional system glitch. The story’s finale is quoted below:

“I meet novelty for the first time this week. We embrace each other in a hug and thank you for the trust. On the bed I stare at the ceiling and review every word he’s said to me since we’ve met two days ago. Not artificial. So that’s a soul.”

The character being referenced, Jeremy, was based on me, and for the third time that week I thought ‘bloody hell I’m crying again’.

Reform happens through genuine interactions.

A fond farewell

The Haven is knowing that you’re protected – no matter who you are, no matter what you share, no matter how much you cry. In that respect, Villa Pia was my Nonna.

So, it’s back to Tesco’s veg and imported wine, only now I understand the richness of my own soil. From tutors-to-teammates, thank you for your understanding, trust and camaraderie.

Forza Stories!

Douglas joined the annual ‘Haven for Stories Retreat’, thanks to one of our Longford travelling scholarships. Our gratitude goes to Tobias Jones, Alice Vincent and Elise Valmorbida, the three acclaimed writers who teach each year at the retreat, and to Villa Pia’s owner, Morag Cleland, a former Longford Trust mentor, for making these bursary places available to our scholars.

 

 

Evidence and compassion: what is needed in our post-truth era

Author: | 13 Oct 2025

Listening to Robert Jenrick giving his speech to the Conservative Party Conference as Shadow Justice Secretary and Lord Chancellor, our law scholar Chris Walters was alarmed by how many of our leaders are currently going down the road of preferring feelings to facts.

I clutched my book in one hand and my prison ID in the other as I was escorted to the HMP Wandsworth book club on an evening in 2018. The book was Post-Truth by Lee McIntyre. It’s about the increasing trend of people believing their feelings rather than the evidence. I was reminded of it while listening to Robert Jenrick’s recent address to his party’s annual conference. It’s that clear some people have continued on that downward slope, seemingly abandoning all reason.

Jenrick delivered a speech which was equal parts cringeworthy comedy routine and dystopian nightmare. No, it isn’t accurate to say (as he did) that an Albanian man avoided deportation from this country because his child doesn’t like Albanian chicken nuggets. The case in question is complex, and concerns the welfare of a child who may have additional needs. The child’s dietary preferences were just one aspect and the judge set aside the deportation so more information could be gathered. Moreover, the decision was subsequently overturned by the Upper Tribunal, which makes Jenrick’s point all the more baseless.

What really goes on in an asylum hearing

I’ve been to an asylum hearing. They are unfairly adversarial. Despite what the media would have us believe, succeeding in an asylum claim is a difficult process. Most people seeking asylum receive less than £50 a week and basic accommodation, while trying to recover from traumatic experiences, and build a strong legal case.

The representative of the Crown, the Home Office Presenting Officer (HOPO), is often not a qualified solicitor and, while they are subject to an internal code of conduct, they are not held to the same high professional standards as solicitors.  Anthropologist John Campbell writes: ‘Indeed HOPOs are not bound by a professional code of conduct which means that, regardless of what is stated in Home Office professional standards guidelines, they are not legally required to assist the court to achieve a fair decision.’

HOPOs have often been criticised for being unnecessarily adversarial. This inequality of arms, coupled with the hostile environment introduced by Theresa May, means the demonisation of asylum seekers is set above facts, evidence, and compassion.

The vital principle of an independent judiciary

Jenrick also enlisted the help of a prop wig and zero evidence to lambast ‘activist judges’. Patricia Thom, President of the Law Society of Scotland, called his words ‘dangerous and unacceptable’, going on to say: ‘It is notable that Mr Jenrick has provided no legal basis for questioning the validity of judicial decisions with which he does not agree.’

As a qualified solicitor himself, you would expect Robert Jenrick to have more respect for evidence and the independence of the judiciary. Given his words, I don’t imagine he would pass the class I study about ‘Professional Skills and Responsibility’.

His comments about ‘two-tier justice’ were more than misleading. They are unconstitutional. Although we don’t have a single written piece of paper that makes up our constitution, the UK does have one spread across statute, common law, conventions, and tradition. One of the cornerstone conventions of our constitution is that ministers must not criticise the individual decisions of judges. This is part of the wider separation of powers; it helps ensure no branch of government wields too much power.

If you want to see the result of too much executive power, take a glance across the pond to Donald Trump’s America: masked and unidentified law enforcement agents snatching people as they got about their business; ‘Alligator Alcatraz’, where hundreds of people have gone missing; and soldiers deployed to the streets against civilians. It’s a campaign driven by misinformation and denigration of the rule of law; the courts can’t even keep up. Is this the brand of authoritarianism that Jenrick, Farage, and their ilk would have here? We must reject it with every ounce of our being.

What ‘traditional values’ truly means

I wish that, in the midst of this, we could look to Labour for support but, if anything, they seem to be courting these abhorrent views. Last month they suspended refugee family-reunion applications. That means that people who have already had their asylum claim accepted cannot be reunited with their wives, husbands or children. Shabana Mahmood, the Home Secretary, has promised to ramp up deportations, which plays right into this false narrative of immigrants being the enemy.

Any flag-waving Christian patriots would do well to remember that Jesus was a refugee. If they open the Bible, they will find any number of passages teaching compassion for asylum seekers, refugees, and immigrants. My favourite is Matthew 25:36-40: ‘For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me. […] Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did to me.’

If we genuinely want a return to our traditional values, how about the values of compassion and kindness? We stand on the precipice of a cliff. Below is hate, authoritarianism, and lies which deserve our vigorous opposition.

It’s time to reject that path. Our country’s future should be driven by law and policy which is evidence-led and compassionate, and which respects the independence of the judiciary.

Chris is a Longford Scholar studying the Diploma in Professional Legal Practice at the University of Edinburgh. He is also the Longford Trust’s fundraising manager and a trustee at the Human Rights Consortium Scotland.

 

 

 

Empty cell with sunlight shining through the window

‘The prison cell is the silent classroom of the self’

Author: | 30 Sep 2025

Before embracing education, there must be first a self-education, argues our 2025 Scholar Fedor Bryant-Dantès, studying for a BA in creative writing. Reflecting on his time in a cell, he writes of this rehabilitation process as ‘the illumination of a newly-seen self’

My experience, and similarly, that of many around me, is that each prison cell is something of a classroom. It can be the most impactful of learning environments. The prison cell is the silent classroom of the self, and it is both gratis and boundless. The only tuition fee has been my willingness to become self-aware, reflective and above all else, vulnerably honest. In a cell, my education is not delivered by rushed and tired tutors, or on pages poorly photocopied from confusing tomes, but by my ceaseless and inescapable encounters with the self; my regrets, cruelties, insecurities and fragile hopes.

So, what does it mean to experience education of the self, when the only external stimulus is isolation? Oscar Wilde, writing from Reading Gaol, understood this interrogation with more clarity, wit and verve than I could ever wish to muster. In De Profundis he declared: ‘You know what my art was to me, the great primal note by which I had revealed, first myself to myself, and then myself to the world.’ He maintained that his art was a means of understanding himself and then, allowing the world to understand him. It’s a lesson, both poetic and prophetic.

You see, in a prison cell, art is not only in painting or poetry: it is in the arduous chiselling away of false identities, the sculpting and moulding of a sincere authenticity from the raw stone of solitude. Once, I stood before that flinty surface – my soul – and began to see the outline of who I truly am.

‘Learning about oneself can feel like a revolution’

Learning about oneself can feel like a revolution more radical than any taught in academia. It is almost certainly more effective. Here, I’m not rewarded with superficially pleasing and quickly forgotten grades. Here, there are no diplomas to mount on a wall. I am both pupil and master and the day arranges itself in perpetual questions. Why did I act in anger? Why do I need them to think I’m strong? Why am I fearful of compassion? What stories have I told myself so often that I now believe them as gospel?

Long and difficult nights have been my greatest mentors. In those silent oppressive hours, my memory has unspooled like an old film reel: childhood failures, betrayals, moments of both mercy and malice. I have become adept at tracing the patterns, of mapping a terrain of my own making.

But this has not been, for me, an exercise in self-flagellation, nor a mournful pursuit for pity. Rather, it has been the forging of my resilience. Each truth unearthed and accepted is a spark. Every confession whispered to those sweating walls is a kindling. And when the gift of morning light finally filters through the narrow window, it is not simply a metaphor for new beginnings, but the illumination of a newly-seen self.

‘Our self-education is a work without precedent’

What I’ve learned to appreciate here is the undeniable art in this metamorphosis. The prisoner reduced to a barest truth is both canvas and painter. Each new brushstroke of insight, each shade of remorse or resolve, layers and builds a portrait more vibrant than any hung in galleries. Our self-education is a work without precedent – as unique and recognisable as a Modigliani or Rembrandt.

Education is rehabilitation, but education of the self is necessary, first and without equivocation. Self-education is not so much the filling of an empty vessel, but the stripping away of all that would hinder a safe departure. Self-education is an apprenticeship in honesty, and it is necessarily harsh and exacting – but ultimately liberating. For the prisoner, eventually, what greater freedom can be described than to confront one’s soul and unflinchingly to say: ‘That is who I was. This is who I will be.’

And at the conclusion of this transformation, when the outside world considers me worthy of re-acceptance, I will experience not a release but a graduation. I, who once recoiled at the perpetual closing of gates, will smile at the sound this last time. I’ll step forward having learned in that silent classroom what no syllabus could teach: that the most beneficial education is simply of the self. It is the one that turns inward and challenges self-confrontation. Bravery and honesty can help me to emerge from my current deprivation not diminished, but transcendent.

Want to know more about Longford Scholarships, or know someone who might? Contact Clare.

Painting of a red kite bird

‘I felt something I hadn’t felt in so long: real hope’

Author: | 16 Sep 2025

As we welcome 38 new Longford Scholars this month, one of their number, Beatrice Auty, tells and illustrates her story of coming across the Longford Trust. It was the moment a door opened on finding purpose through education.

Noted in my small prison calendar, given to me by the chaplaincy and which became my makeshift diary, is an entry from August 15th, 2023: ‘The Longford Trust Scholarship Event – BRILLIANT.’ On that day, I was escorted off the house block at HMP Bronzefield and taken to the library. It felt like an exciting escape from the mundane daily cycle of cleaning the wing just to earn a few hours out of my cell before lockdown resumed.

I had been looking forward to this meeting, having heard about the work of the Longford Trust. I sat in the library with one other woman, listening to Clare and Sara from the Trust, and felt something I hadn’t felt in so long after living in fear and limbo since my arrest in 2021: hope, real hope. I walked back to my cell with a renewed sense of purpose, one I knew deep down, but had left behind many years ago. I remembered that I was able to be an academic, and I was going to become a student – no longer defined by A1603EZ. That shift in identity was already liberating.

‘I sat in my cell handwriting assignments’

I decided to use my sentence as a time to study. Anything to take my mind off the grim surroundings of my cell felt hugely welcome. A few months later, after resolving some initial funding issues, I enrolled in an Open University Access Course in Psychology and Social Science. I sat in my cell handwriting assignments, using the course as a countdown, not only to my release, but to something more meaningful. It gave me structure, escape, and pride. When I received 72% on my first assignment and 96% in December, I was overjoyed. I felt a deep sense of achievement and a renewed desire to keep learning.

That kind of affirmation meant a great deal to me. I had dropped out of college without completing my A-Levels. Later, I got into law school via an entry exam but had dropped out again due to an ongoing legal case with a former employer. Though I had the potential, I had lost confidence in my ability and didn’t believe I belonged in education. Prison gave me the time and an unexpected second chance that I decided to take.

‘That moment was transformative’

Fast forward to my release: I completed the Access course with distinction. That gave me the UCAS points to enrol in a Criminology degree at the University of Westminster. After my first year, I was awarded a Longford Trust Scholarship. That moment was transformative. To have support throughout my degree, a mentor, and help finding work all feels profound. In a world that stigmatises ex-offenders, the Longford Trust provides encouragement, belief, and hope.

Since then, I’ve spoken to many people still in prison or recently released who are thinking about studying. Some have little or no prior education. I tell them: Access modules and short courses are stepping stones, and you don’t need perfect grades. What matters is desire. If you’ve found that in a prison cell, you’re already on your way. You deserve support, and the support is out there.

‘Studying gave me a new sense of self-worth and confidence’

Choosing to study while in prison takes resilience and determination. It’s undeniably harder under those constraints with limited resources, restricted time, and a harsh environment, but it is so worth it. Studying gave me a new sense of self-worth and confidence I didn’t even know I had. It enabled me to focus on something outside of myself and find joy in learning again.

I still remember the moment I walked into the library at my Open prison, printed study materials in hand, and told the officers I needed time away from my work in the gardens because I had assignments due. That moment meant more to me than a grade ever could. It gave me something bigger – it gave me identity, dignity, purpose, and a passion to keep going.

I will always be grateful to the Longford Trust for their unwavering support and encouragement. To anyone thinking about studying again: just go for it, and know you are capable.

Image: Beatrice drew this red kite illustration. She said: These birds became a powerful symbol of freedom for me during my time in prison. They would often circle above the yard, a constant reminder of the beauty that still exists in the world – the birds, the sky, and so much more.’

If you would like to know more about Longford Scholarships or our Frank Awards for serving prisoners studying with the OU, or if you know someone who might, do contact Clare or Judith.

Man with a beard in a library being interviewed on TV news

Poet Will talks about his new book on ITV News

Author: | 5 Sep 2025

Longford Scholar Will Pendray has appeared on ITV Meridian News, being interviewed about the publication of his new poetry book, Overgrown.

Will graduated with an MA in Creative Writing with Distinction from the University of Brighton in 2024.

He told the ITV reporter how the poetry in Overgrown came from the many notes he kept while in prison.

Click here to watch the full interview.

The book is described as ‘a powerful poetry collection… written through years of incarceration and personal transformation. Blending spoken word, prison poetry, and reflections on trauma and mental health, this debut collection explores how we grow, even when the world tries to bury us.

‘These are poems of memory and blood, dirt and rain, love and survival. From the weight of a prison cell to the fragile joy of fatherhood, Overgrown is a raw and redemptive journey through the cracks and quiet triumphs of a life rebuilt.’

Read the blog Will wrote for us in February 2025 – They say education is freedom. I learned that while I was locked up

Overgrown is available to buy on Amazon.Book cover

Man wearing a graduation gown with a green hood and holding a scroll

‘Not how high we climb, but where we have climbed from’

Author: | 2 Sep 2025

Our Scholar Andrew put drugs and crime behind him and chose education. He doubted his ability to do it many times but this summer graduated with a degree in psychology. If he can do it, he writes, so can you.

After a great deal of hard work, unwavering determination, and resilience, I have finally earned a bachelor’s degree in social psychology. Following yet another release from prison, I realised I was done with committing crime and the drug-addicted lifestyle it entailed.

I was no good at it anyway, as I was always getting caught. Kicking up dust in HMP Brick City was no longer where I wanted to be.  I made the decision to re-educate myself but wasn’t sure how. So, I enrolled in night school, dedicating two years to acquiring the GCSEs needed to enrol in college.

After that, I spent a year completing an access course at Norwich City College, which led me into three years of studying psychology at the University of East Anglia. Having completed my degree with a 2:1, I am now confident that with hard work, commitment and perseverance, there is nothing I cannot achieve.

Plagued by self-doubt

Throughout my journey, I experienced many highs and lows in what I can only describe as an emotional rollercoaster. At times, it felt like I was holding on by the tips of my fingers, but I refused to give up. On so many occasions, I doubted myself, wondering if I really belonged in a university setting or if pursuing a degree was even the right path for me.

Yet something inside me always made me get out of bed and keep showing up. I once said in jest to the professor, ‘my motivation far exceeds my intelligence’, not realising then how true that statement really was. Although many assignments were difficult, I was able to find the information I needed or connect with the right person who could help me complete the tasks at hand.  I often reminded myself, ‘I have not come this far just to come this far’. It always seemed to spur me on in the right direction.

Sharing my experience

During my time at the UEA, I made some wonderful friendships that have shown me another side of life. Not only have I been supported through trials and tribulations, but I have also supported my friends with the wealth of experience that comes with being a mature student. There is nothing I enjoy more than sharing my experience in order to help others better their lives. My journey has also inspired my children, on many levels. My 19-year-old daughter, who left school at an early age, is now motivated to return and pursue her education with university her goal.

A living example

Now I have a degree, I plan to work within the criminal justice system, supporting people released from prison. I know the difficulties in re-entering the community, especially if you have no family or friends to support you. It is a vulnerable time, navigating a way through hostels, probation offices, and benefits agencies. The temptation is there to resort back to old behaviour patterns.

Instead I want now to be a living example that it is possible to change, and not only that, but to build a meaningful life worth staying out of prison for. I am not a fan of looking back with remorse and regret but rather looking forward and making positive changes in day-to-day life. I like the quote that says, ‘For we are not judged by the height to which we climb, but rather the depth from which we climbed.’

Charity and goodwill

A big thank you to the Longford Trust for believing in me. The kind words from Clare, Peter and the team, and the high level of support and encouragement I received, were unparalleled. I am forever grateful to you guys, and I hope that in the future, I will be able to mentor and support scholars with the same charity and goodwill shown to me.  I am a proud Longford scholar and I hold my head high as a Longford Trust graduate.

If you are inspired by Andrew’s story to give university education a go, or know someone who could be, contact Clare at the Longford Trust; clare@longfordtrust.org 

Woman smiling at the camera, in a park

A scholar’s rocky road to a fulfilling career

Author: | 22 Jul 2025

Imogen Andrews made a big impact on the audience when she spoke from the stage at the Longford Lecture in 2013 about her love for geology, her degree subject. ‘It rocks’, she said. Later, though, she dropped out of her degree but the support she experienced as a Longford Scholar, she now writes, has contributed to where she has got to in her career, running her own successful fundraising consultancy.

Life doesn’t always follow a planned route. My university journey, made possible by a Longford Trust scholarship, was unexpectedly cut short by a family breakdown that led to homelessness. Suddenly, the academic path I was on vanished. The future I’d imagined felt distant.

However, even amidst this crisis, support arrived from unexpected corners. The immediate crisis of homelessness was addressed by a dedicated charity that stepped in decisively, providing the crucial first month’s rent that enabled me to secure a place to live. Another organisation then provided essential supplies. These were distinct acts of kindness, each playing a vital role in my ability to rebuild.

Working in a gold mine

Before the family breakdown disrupted my studies, the Longford Trust had provided me with extra help to deal with the complex maths that was part of the geology course, via Margaret, an advanced maths teacher who was one of their volunteers.  Then, through my mentor, Luke, I was offered an extraordinary opportunity: work experience with his company in Africa on a gold mine.

This experience was truly transformative. Beyond the fascinating geology, a real-world immersion in the earth’s composition, I learned invaluable lessons about different cultures and myself. It undoubtedly gave me a unique perspective and a real-world edge. My education took an unexpected turn when I discovered first-hand the impressive (and slightly alarming) defensive spray of certain local beetles – a practical lesson in organic chemistry that university hadn’t prepared me for.

But survival then took precedence when I had to leave university. I grabbed the first job available: door-to-door fundraising. It wasn’t what I expected, going house-to-house, talking to strangers. It was a challenging start. But something clicked.

Sharing the support I had received

Connecting with people about a cause, inspiring them to help, felt meaningful. It was a way to give back, channelling the support I had received into benefiting others. I found my stride, moving into other areas of fundraising. I began to excel, consistently surpassing targets and breaking fundraising records.

My connection with the Longford Trust remained a source of incredible moments, both during and after my formal studies, with the annual lectures being a consistent high point. One year, after I had spoken on stage about the scholarship’s impact, I had the truly surreal and awesome experience of Vivienne Westwood calling me magnificent. It was a lifetime highlight, a moment of pure validation from someone so iconic.

Eventually, the skills and experience I gained in fundraising led me to a new ambition. I enjoyed the energy, the challenge, the direct link between my work and positive change. The skills I was developing – communication, resilience, empathy – felt incredibly valuable.

Where life can take you

Five years on, I lead my own fundraising and consulting agency. It’s a reality I couldn’t have envisioned, underscoring how initial opportunities can shape unexpected successes. The Longford Trust’s belief in me, and the experience in Africa, remain invaluable, even though my path diverged from academia. Overcoming homelessness and family breakdown, thanks to crucial early support, revealed an unforeseen strength in fundraising, which has become both my career and a source of genuine purpose. My journey is a testament to how life’s detours can lead to surprisingly fulfilling destinations.

Man smiling on green grass overlooking the sea

“I never know what he gets out of it. I get plenty”

Author: | 7 Jul 2025

Mentoring is a crucial part of our work. Every Longford Scholar is accompanied through their years at university by one of our trained Longford Trust mentors. These volunteers, who are all ages and come from all walks of life, generously give their time, energy and goodwill to supporting our scholars through what can be difficult transitions. Former journalist and lecturer Rob Campbell reflects on what mentoring means to him.

‘What did he do? Is he a murderer?’. That’s the first question friends asked when I became a Longford mentor.

Naturally I didn’t tell them, but I don’t blame them for asking. Crime is so fascinating that it dominates our headlines and, when we can’t get enough, we devour dramatized versions on television or read yet another thriller.

The reality of mentoring someone who’s done time, however, starts with parking that fascination, easily done because most offending seems too miserable and depressing to make a good story anyway.

What’s been more fascinating for me, since first meeting my mentee nearly three years ago, is how to understand the challenges faced by someone choosing the path of rehabilitation.

I’ve had to learn that while my mentee has done his time, paid his debt to society, and is officially no longer defined by an offence, there’s a hidden part of his sentence that continues.

Mentees might struggle with any or more of the following: finding self-discipline after years of being subject to someone else’s; handling fear of new friends discovering their past; difficulties in finding housing and work; trouble with past relationships.

Supportive in a crisis

Learning how to listen to any of that, effectively, has kept me on my toes. I learnt a lot from the Longford Trust’s training, and I’ve found the team always available for guidance, and very supportive in a crisis, but I’m no expert in any of these issues. I’m a retired lecturer, and my main experience of the justice system is from the press benches as a former journalist.

What I’ve learned, and am still learning, is that listening well depends on understanding your relationship with your mentee. It’s an odd one because you’re not their friend, parent, sibling, colleague, probation officer, social worker, lecturer, doctor, or grant-giver. You have no authority or leverage, and little to offer beyond a listening ear.

Listening ear

So I just listen, actively, to his ideas, plans, and worries, and it sounds serious but we have some laughs. Like when he couldn’t focus on reading in his room, with all the distractions of housemates and screens, and I asked him when reading was easier. The answer was in a cell, so he booked himself a silent study pod in the library and I felt like I’d sent him back inside. We’ve had a lot of laughs, mostly on FaceTime but also walking on the beach near his university, watching the waves, stopping for a pizza.

I may never know what he gets out of our meetings but I get plenty. There’s potentially the pride of helping him stay out of prison (and saving us all the cost) but I’ll never know. So it’s the other things that count: meeting someone outside of my usual cosy circles, admiring someone winning against the odds, and learning and re-learning the importance of listening.’

We have more than 80 volunteer mentors at present – either matched or about to be matched with scholars. Our sincere thanks to them for their commitment. Interested in becoming a mentor to someone in or leaving prison? Contact Veena at mentors@longfordtrust.org and watch our video about the value and impact of the mentoring relationship.

Person's hand holding an academic mortar board in the air

“Anything is possible, if you try hard enough”

Author: | 24 Jun 2025

Our Frank Awards help people in prison who want to start an Open University degree. For most it is their first attempt at higher education. One of our Frank Award holders recently graduated in Global Development. At his graduation ceremony, held in the prison and attended by his family and Longford Trust mentor, he said some important words about what getting a degree meant for him that he has allowed us to share.

‘Firstly, I’d like to thank you all for coming here today. This is a very rare and special occasion with family, friends, the Longford Trust, the prison and Open University all coming together to celebrate, what for me, is a wonderful accomplishment. It really does mean a lot, so thank you all. In many ways, it is a vital reminder that opportunities here in prison are crucial and must be maintained. We change lives together. I stand here before you as a clear example that, with the right nurturing, resolution, and dedication to hard work, education is the only true form of self-rehabilitation.

I am extremely proud of what I have achieved. I am an individual who grew up on a council estate, who has made some serious mistakes in his life, but decided that I won’t let these define my future, or the person I want to be. What I am is a hardworking, pragmatic, and determined individual. I have been described as relentless and laser-focused by some, but also as a right pain in the backside by others. I wouldn’t class myself as highly intelligent, or even extremely clever. I have nothing more than average intelligence. I have nothing uniquely special about me. Well, apart from my dashing good looks and modesty, that is.

My journey can be an inspiration

But on a serious note, I came to prison 18 years ago with no formal academic qualifications as I had left school without sitting my GCSEs. I subsequently joined the British Army, which is what I had always wanted to do, following in my grandfather’s footsteps. When I left, I became self-employed and owned a number of successful businesses, as I have always been very good with finances and making money. Maybe that’s why I ended up getting involved with the wrong crowds, making regrettable decisions and, within a few years, receiving a prison sentence. It was at this point, I decided to try and turn my life around for the better, and use my time in prison as constructively as I possibly could.

I completed my GCSEs, A Levels, and then enrolled on a business degree and continue on my journey to complete a Masters in Global Development. Securing the funding was such an uphill battle, which took a lot out of me, self-funding through myself, family, friends and writing letters to charities, requesting grants and donations. Without all of these individuals, this achievement, just would not have been possible. Completing my Masters has been so fulfilling, but I am acutely aware that there are many prisoners who face similar challenges in their quest to better themselves. Many end up with brick walls in their way, so I hope that my journey can be an inspiration to these men and women, and give them hope for the future, despite the obstacles and hurdles that the system sometimes presents.

Education beyond what I dreamed possible

Notwithstanding all this, studying was one of the most rewarding times of my imprisonment. It took my level of education well beyond whatever I could have dreamed possible. I do not come from a family of academics. In fact, I am the first person in my whole family to have obtained a degree and now a Masters. I have embraced every challenge to achieve my ambitions and aspirations. I have worked, and continue to work, extremely hard to the best of my ability not just for myself, but for my family.

I am eternally grateful to my loved ones, as they are my inspiration, especially my mother and grandmother for, without their unwavering support, help and encouragement, I would not have completed this. I would also like to dedicate this achievement to my three children and my two grandchildren. Everything I do, I do it for them.

Evidently investment in my education has had a multi-layered effect, which has inspired my youngest son to follow in my footsteps. He is currently in his final year at university in Manchester. I am so proud of him, as I am of all my children.

Learn as if you were to live forever

I would also like to point out that this accomplishment has only been made possible with help of charities like the Longford Trust (amongst others) who have provided financial help and support to me along the way. I am very grateful to them for my mentor, James, for his unflinching support. He has provided me with his time, knowledge, and expertise which have been invaluable. Thank you, James.

Gandhi once said, “Live as if you were to die tomorrow, learn as if you were to live forever”. In the future, I hope doing events and discussions like this here today may motivate, enthuse, and show people both inside and outside of prison that you can still reap the rewards of hard work, and make the most out of a bad situation. Anything is possible, if you try hard enough.’

Our Frank Awards are grants for serving prisoners to cover the cost of one full module (60 credits) towards degrees at the Open University.  They are run as a joint project with the Prisoners’ Education Trust, supported financially by the Linbury Trust. To apply for a Frank Award, check our eligibility information and download the form. The closing date for OU modules starting in October is 15 August.