A Man For All Seasons?

Week 2, Day 5

Well, I have made it to the end of week two and can report that week 2 went a whole lot better than week 1. I am managing to keep a lid on the paranoia, thanks to the comments of fellow bloggers who inform me that many PMs take a seeming vow of silence when they are deep in preparation for trial.

The fact that One of Her Majesty's Counsel posted on my blog to reveal that his own PM had managed months of near-mute supervision has cheered me up immeasurably - in fact, being of an optimistic (and admittedly often delusional) bent, I am managing to convince myself that rather than demonstrating some kind of animus towards me, the positively Bodleian hush maintained by PM is an indication of his accepting me as a brother in cerebral toil - no need for pleasantries or plattitudes, for we two have scores of lever arch files of papers to get through, skeleton arguments to finalise, and indeed in the case of one of us, bundles to check.

And on the basis of the precedent set by HH Myerson's PM, I look forward to popping open a couple of coldies and discussing footie and girls once the trial is out of the way and the chambers cat returns with PM's tongue.

Now although I am touched by the concern voiced by some of you that I may be taking my dignity a little too seriously - and I am quietly impressed that you were much too polite to say that I sound as if I am still a pompous a**e despite the lessons meted out to me - I think that my ramblings on the subject of the dignity of the pupil have perhaps been misunderstood. My point is perhaps a nobler one than some of you have given me credit for.

For the avoidance of doubt, as the pleadings tend to say, I don't consider that making coffee is beneath me. I like to think that, far from being a reluctant barista, I have risen to the occasion and have refined my coffee making skills over the past fortnight immeasurably. In fact, I am tempted to fox PM with Starbucks speak next time I offer to make him one: "I am just going for a refill, PM - can I interest you in a tall skinny double shot choccamochaccino?"

I just choose to execute the coffee making in a way that permits me to retain my dignity and sense of self. Were PM to break the mould and offer just once to make a cup of coffee for me the dynamics would change entirely and there would be no need for such face-saving stratagems. Oh well, I suspect that for uttering this heresy I will be inundated with Lady Bracknellesque assertions that such behaviour would surely lead to acts of violence in Gray's Inn Square, but there you go.

My point is this: if everyone else in chamber is to be accorded dignity and to be respected for what they do, whether Head of Chambers, the receptionist, the clerks or the typists, then why not the pupils too? Should we pupils behave in a servile way and flagellate ourselves for having no experience since we are in our first weeks of a new existence? If I am obliged to treat everyone with respect (and I think that we are all agreed that I am), why should PM and his ilk not be under the same obligation vis-a-vis the pupils?

Put another way, if a new clerk were to join chambers fresh out of school should I treat him with condescension or contempt because he has had a shorter tenure in chambers than me and less experience at doing his job than I have in doing mine? Should I expect him to bow and scrape and apologise for his very existence? Of course not!

Though they had all but disappeared into my body like those of a sumo wrestler preparing for a bout, I have at the suggestion of one eminent poster located my cojones and resolved that I will from now on try to be myself in chambers and not play the part which I think will appeal most to those around me.

To misquote Robert Bolt "it profits a man nothing to give his soul for the whole world....but for [junior tenancy in commercial chambers]?"

No, in a radical departure from the customary and recommended practice, I am going to seek to maintain some degree of personal integrity in my quest for tenancy and just hope that they don't find me too objectionable.

Wish me luck - I suspect that I am going to need it!