First Day

Week 1 Day 1

First Class Degree from Oxford - check
Distinction in the CPE - check
"Very Competent" in Bar Finals - check
Senior Scholarship from the Inn - check

Walking into chambers on the first day of my pupillage I feel confident and just a little smug. I announce myself to the (rather attractive) receptionist who disappears to find my pupil master. I sit in reception surrounded by law reports bound in faded leather, revelling in the rather ivory tower atmosphere. Tony, the Head Clerk, brings me a black coffee. I half rise to take it from him and then remember what I was told by a friend from Bar School about not appearing too middle class and apologetic - I am a barrister now, and the clerks work for me. Even Tony, who is older than my father. With some awkwardness I take my seat again and receive the cup of coffee straight into my lap. As the warmness envelops my loins I wonder momentarily whether it is just the coffee or whether I have also managed to empty my bladder. I turn to ask Tony whether he wouldn't mind fetching me a napkin, but he has already made for the Clerks' Room. As his back recedes along the corridor I can't help noticing something of a spring in his step and distinctly hear a jaunty hum coming from his direction. It occurs to me that my hauteur might have been noticed by Tony, and realise that I may have made the first miscalculation of my life as a pupil.

I wait for Tony to return with a cloth, but he is nowhere to be seen. I stand with my knees pushed out in front of me and try to brush the excess coffee off my trousers. I think for a moment that it could be worse - at least the floor is of stone flags rather than carpet.

Time passes.

I might have been anxious or irritated by the wait but let's face it - I look as if I have pissed myself and so am not overly anxious to meet my pupil master or indeed anyone else, and appreciate the opportunity to air-dry my trousers.

I pace around reception holding the front of my trousers out in front of me, wagging the loose cloth back and forth, encouraging the air to circulate. This is when a boy who looks no more than 14 in a lilac suit several sizes too big for him trundles into chambers with his trolley laden with bundles bound in pink ribbon. He says nothing to me rushes towards the Clerks' Room, dropping files as he goes, and bursts into uncontrolled laughter. I look down and realise that the back and forth motion I am making with my right hand, while clutching the cloth at the crotch of my trousers could have something to do with his demeanour.

Just as I am examining the glass trophy on the receptionist's desk a tall bird-like man with floppy hair and horn-rimmed spectacles stalks into the room, says "Hullo" (which I thought was only ever said in PG Woodhouse) and holds out his hand. I am confused - I have heard that barristers don't shake hands, and wonder if this is some kind of "first day" test. I fumble with the trophy, and it slips from my hand. The desk breaks its fall, but doesn't save it, as the second fall from desk to floor sees it shatter into several large pieces and dozens of splinters.

I stare at the shards of glass on the floor and begin to feel the heat in my face. I have to force myself to look up - "I am PP, your new pupil. I am most awfully sorry." I wipe my coffee-wet hand on the back of my trousers and hold it out to shake. P-M looks at it with what seems like revulsion and tells me "barristers don't shake hands", as he turns on his heels and heads down the corridor. I guess that I am supposed to follow him.