Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Since commencing my pupillage I have been much preoccupied with the issue of the dignity to be accorded to the pupil.

I got off on a bad footing on the dignity front thanks to some duff advice from an older and supposedly wiser friend (see earlier post). Since said friend is now in the invidious position of doing a third six, having failed to get taken on at the end of his 12 months, I should perhaps have viewed his advice on how to get a tenancy with a certain degree of circumspection, but we'll have to chalk that one up to experience.

I have learnt my lesson that I shouldn't be a pompous a**e, but I still haven't got to the bottom of whether it is necessary for a pupil to surrender his dignity entirely and to adopt the "ever so 'umble" persona of a Uriah Heep. Call me the eternal optimist but I am still clutching to the hope that grovelling subservience is not a necessary part of the role.

In order to preserve a scrap of dignity whilst undertaking the all-important but menial duties that are the condicio sine qua non of pupildom, I have resorted to a certain amount of elaborate subterfuge. I ensure that I get into chambers for 9:00 each day so that I am always in when PM arrives at 9:15-9:30. I make sure to have a nearly empty mug of coffee on my desk so that once PM has hung up his coat and started powering up his computer I can head for the door, mug in hand, before offering almost as an afterthought to make His Grace a cup of coffee too. This way I manage to avoid acknowledging that the brewing of hot beverages is central to my role, whilst not derelicting my duties in that regard. It is a saving of "face" that I think would have been appreciated in imperial China, but I suspect that the subtleties of this morning dance are lost on PM. He has certainly never commended me on the neatness of my solution and I don't expect that he ever will.

I would not describe PM as loquacious.

He is engrossed in the final stages of preparation for trial on a large professional negligence matter. I won't go into the facts for fear of breaching all manner of duties of confidentiality, but suffice to say that the claimant is a hedge fund investor in a CDO and the defendants are the lawyers, accountants and investment bankers involved in its structuring and documentation.

The claimant's pleaded case is that the scribblers, bean counters and City boys sold them a pup or, in the alternative, done them up like a kipper. Apologies if my legal analysis is a little too technical for lay readers.

Wish I could say more as, if the FT coverage of the credit crunch fallout is to be believed, there should be plenty more disputes of this nature and the case does seem to throw up some interesting issues.

Anyway, PM is so dug into the papers on this that since his rather harsh words on my first day I have barely heard a squeak from him. Counted the words spoken today, and reached only six:

"Yes, thank you" in response to coffee offer on arrival; and

"Yes, thank you" in response to coffee offer at 4pm.

That's it.

My other rather rudimentary conversational gambits ("Good morning, PM"; "I'm just popping out for some lunch - back in 20 minutes") were met with silence. Now I am not one of the world's chatterers, and can enjoy companionable silence for hours on end, but I am finding the monastic hush of PM's room somewhat intimidating and it makes me want to blather, which is probably what I am doing now, so I shall leave you all and endeavour to make more sense tomorrow.

Cheerio