Three mornings a week I get up at 4am, get into work at 5am and spend 90 minutes in the gym. When I came back to Doncaster – I was here previously as deputy director – I’d put on two stone. My current regime means both my mind and body feel right. I feel sharper. If it’s a non-training day, I get up at 5.15am; I’m lucky because I only need six hours’ sleep a night.

I’m always at my desk by 6.30am. I like to spend a couple of hours on paperwork, which includes letters from the general public, complaints and ministerial questions. At 9am I have an operational meeting with the assistant directors. I get an insight into what has happened in the establishment over the previous day and any information about what is happening in the day ahead.

Apart from that, I can guarantee that no two days will be the same. I really enjoy my job; every single day I’m absolutely on a knife edge with anticipation on my way to work. My experience as a boxer – I was British middleweight champion in 1986 – has given me discipline, determination and self-esteem. I’ve achieved everything I’ve ever set my mind on.

Challenges and achievements
When I gave up boxing at 26, I went to what was then Huddersfield Poly to train as a probation officer. Despite my focus, it wasn’t easy. I sometimes found myself being taken less seriously because I’m black. I remember going on my first home visit as a probation officer: the family thought I was a debt collector who’d come to beat them up. I had to put my ID card through the door before they’d let me in. That was only around 16 years ago.

Being the first black director of a prison ought to be irrelevant, but it’s not. I’ll only see it as an achievement if there are dozens of us in five years’ time and I’m able to say I was the first. Given that black people are disproportionately represented in prison, I hope my presence will make offenders more confident of a fair deal. But I don’t think any of my staff see me as being a black director. They see me as boss. Simple as that. I should point out that I can’t call myself ‘governor’ because that term can only be used by the public sector and Doncaster is a private prison run by Serco.

Someone once said they recruited people who have the potential to do better than them because it makes them better and stronger. I’ve got a really good senior management team who aren’t afraid to challenge me.

There’s always room for improvement: every morning I’ll fixate on a particular area of our business, pick it apart and work out how to do it better.

You can have all the talent in the world, but if you don’t have the right sponsor it comes to nothing. I work for an organisation that decided to invest in me. I was put on a leadership programme and was then given Doncaster to manage. Had I been in the public sector, it would be another ten years before I’d be eligible to manage a prison of this size. In the public sector they don’t look at individual talent; the only thing they look at is time in the job.

I’m very proud of what we’re achieving at Doncaster. Our operational capacity is 1,135 category B, C and D male prisoners; we were originally built to hold 771. Despite the numbers, everyone has their own bed to sleep in. There’s ample room in the cells; the concern is more to do with a small amount of resources being shared amongst a larger number of prisoners.

Reducing re-offending rates
We’re running a number of pilots that aim to stop re-offending. Ask any prisoner what he’d want upon release and he’d say somewhere good to live and a job. We have a resettlement project where we find mainstream accommodation and employment; we engage with as many local employers as we can.

Two hundred ex-offenders are still part of this support network and around 75% of them haven’t re-offended. Compared to the national statistic of 30%, it’s very impressive. It is resource intensive but so is prison; it costs £25,000 to put someone in here for a year.

At least 80% of the men coming into Doncaster have committed crimes related either directly or indirectly to drugs. Drug involvement in the community is of epidemic proportions.

The only way to change their attitude is through education. It’s pointless saying crime doesn’t pay if there’s no real alternative. You have to show them an alternative away from drugs.

Positive outlook required
Offenders tend to have huge problems with self-esteem. It’s vital they are made to feel more positive about themselves or they’ll resort to their default mode of taking drugs and committing crimes as soon as they’re out.My experiences have allowed me to develop a good, solid sense of empathy but my attitude is probably more deep-rooted in my family background. I’m proud of my socialist beliefs. It’s made me a humane prison director. I haven’t had to compromise any of my beliefs in this job. I still tend to try and find good in people rather than look for the bad, even at the end of a 14-hour day.

PERSONAL FILE
Name: Brian Anderson, 45
Position: Director of Doncaster prison
Biggest challenge: Convincing everyone to buy into my vision, which focuses around decency and treating people with respect.
Defining moment: When I became Director of Doncaster prison in 2006. I started here as an anti-bullying co-ordinator in 1994 and returned to a job at the top. I’m never intimidated by prisoners and hope they aren’t intimidated by me.
What does the future hold? I’m not sure. I’m ahead of myself in what I set out to achieve! I may work abroad. All I know is that I have choices.