The Diary of Bobby Sands - March 8, 1981

I had intended to post an entry from the diary of
Bobby Sands each day, but since Blogger locked my
account while I was trying to publish the first entry
and did not unlock it until this afternoon, I will
start with Bobby's March 8th entry. If you wish to
read Bobby's first week of entries (and I recommend
it), you can do so here.



Sunday 8th

In a few hours time I shall be twenty-seven grand
years of age. Paradoxically it will be a happy enough
birthday; perhaps that's because I am free in spirit.
I can offer no other reason.

I was at Mass today, and saw all the lads minus their
beards, etc. An American priest said Mass and I went
to Communion. One of the lads collapsed before Mass,
but he's all right now. Another was taken out to
Musgrave military hospital. These are regular
occurrences.

I am 60.8 kgs today, and have no medical complaints.

I received another note from my sister Bernie and her
boyfriend. It does my heart good to hear from her. I
got the Irish News today, which carried some adverts
in support of the hunger-strike.

There is a stand-by doctor who examined me at the
weekend, a young man whose name I did not know up
until now. Little friendly Dr Ross has been the
doctor. He was also the doctor during the last
hunger-strike.

Dr Emerson is, they say, down with the 'flu... Dr
Ross, although friendly, is in my opinion also an
examiner of people's minds. Which reminds me, they
haven't asked me to see a psychiatrist yet. No doubt
they will yet, but I won't see him for I am mentally
stable, probably more so than he.

I read some wild-life articles in various papers,
which indeed brought back memories of the
once-upon-a-time budding ornithologist! It was a
bright pleasant afternoon today and it is a calm
evening. It is surprising what even the confined eyes
and ears can discover.

I am awaiting the lark, for spring is all but upon us.
How I listened to that lark when I was in H-5, and
watched a pair of chaffinches which arrived in
February. Now lying on what indeed is my death bed, I
still listen even to the black crows.