Deep in his heart, David Blagdon always knew the chance of immediate release was slim, writes George Frew.

He told me as much himself when I visited him in Lindholme prison, near Doncaster, two months ago.

Several times during the course of our conversation, his eyes filled with tears. Often, as he looked back over the ruins of his life, you could sense the despair he feels whenever he thinks about being given back his liberty.

"Sometimes I think I'll never get out," he said quietly. "It just seems that if they don't release me soon, they might as well not bother. What'll be the point?"

His worries were exacerbated by the fear that his fiancee, Melanie Lancashire, would eventually lose hope of his being released. At one point, he pleaded with me to call her on his behalf to assure her that he loved her and would never give up battling for his freedom. "The thought of going on hunger strike or taking to the prison roof has crossed my mind," he admitted. "But what would that achieve? I'd be making a protest, but all it would do would be to put my case back even further. I've been let down so many times, but now is not the place to give up, no matter what. And there has been such a lot of support from so many people."

David Blagdon spends his days making soft toys for charity and writing endless letters. In prison, postage stamps and phone cards are the most precious currencies.

Sometimes, it can take him up to 25 minutes to get to the top of the queue to use the payphone in the jail. And while most of the other prisoners have visits from wives or girlfriends to look forward to, Blagdon's only contact with his fiancee, Melanie, is by phone or letter. Melanie, 35, doesn't drive and the journey from her home in Alfreton, Derbyshire, would be too much for her. Now, with plans to move him to Sudbury open prison in Suffolk, Blagdon will be further away than ever from the woman he plans to marry.

Yet he knows that this is the move that could finally see him free.

The process of his social rehabilitation begins here, as the 22nd year of his sentence approaches and his 49th birthday is marked. In 12 months' time, his case will again be reviewed by the parole board.

And perhaps then, David William Blagdon can look forward to rebuilding a life gone so tragically, pointlessly wrong. His many friends and supporters will wish him no less.