Nostalgic about Prisoner Cell Block H

Set in Wentworth Detention Centre, a women's prison in Melbourne, Australia, Prisoner was once one of the most shocking shows on our television screens. Sex, violence, swearing, drugs and drama, it had it all.

Carol Burns's portrayal of Frankie Doyle also held a first. Until she swaggered in as a bullying, lesbian inmate, no soap in the world had ever had a female gay character. She was practically top of the bill.

Originally aired in its native Australia, Prisoner Cell Block H passed in a wave across the world. It had already finished there, by the time we were watching the opening episodes here in Britain. We were halfway through before it reached the Americas.

But we all entered in the same way.  We followed Karen Travers and Lynne Warner, as they were marched tearfully through those clanging gates.  Individuals, who would soon became as familiar as our own families, were first glimpsed through the eyes of these new inmates.

We reacted with shock as Bea Smith attacked. We stared wide-eyed as Frankie trashed the Rec Room. We smirked at how well Marilyn could seduce the electrician to get her way. We calmed right down with Mum in the garden with the bugs.  And that was only the first episode.

Prisoner Cell Block H ran for 692 hour long episodes. The final scenes were some of the best ever produced in a drama series, then it stopped. Prisoner fans all over the world delivered petitions to the networks and marched outside television studios to no avail.

It was finally and devastatingly over.

I can picture it so vividly now.  I'd walk into sixth form, on the morning after Prisoner aired, and a whole gang of us would be involved in the post-match analyses.

VHS video recording was only just coming out, so tapes were swopped for those who'd missed it. As the scheduling was so weird (it was on in the early hours and removed/postponed if the snooker went over, or someone dropped a bomb on Baghdad), that could be any of us.

We would speculate on the cliffhanger, and debate who could possibly win, in any given story-line arc. Fluid factions would form around various characters, only to switch loyalties should another reason present itself.

Then I'd nip down to my Nan's flat, where the same kind of conversations would be going on involving my aunties and uncles. Let's be clear about this. It wasn't only the women who loved Prisoner. The men were right there too, whatever they might say now.

It is all so very evocative of my late teenage years; and sometimes even influenced my actions and personality too.

We each had our own people in Wentworth. These were the ones we somehow identified with, or at least cheered on during the fights.

Until last night, I'd forgotten about Reb Kean. She was me in there. It helped that we looked vaguely alike at the time. We were partial to James Dean, and we had a similar quiff.

Only Reb was confident and outspoken, where I was very reserved. Part of me really wanted to be Reb Kean, though perhaps without the criminality. Then I had my big moment to be just that.  In real life, I became her.

A teacher was picking on my little brother.  These days he's twice the size of me and quite capable of looking after himself (and everyone around him). But back then, he was just a child and I was a much more mature eighteen year old.

I was furious about how this teacher had upset my brother, but I was then (and still now) pathetic in verbal confrontations. So I picked out a denim jacket and a comb, then I marched down into the school. I found the teacher.

I can't say that I fully embraced 'what would Reb do?'  That would have probably involved beating the sweet proverbial out of the man. But I definitely went in there as Reb. I would have fallen to pieces at the first hurdle, but Reb could speak her mind. And speak my mind I did.

He was told that if he didn't sort out his attitude, I'd be informing both the headteacher AND my mother. He owed my brother an apology.  He gave me one. I left the room pulling my lapels forward. Anyone watching would have seen Reb stride from the building.

Then I went to pieces outside, as I returned to myself.

Perhaps I could still do with a modicum of Reb Kean in my life today!