Three of them, and Alleline

When we started out there were four of us, and Control has yet to narrow the field, for four we remain. Have been getting into my John Le Carre recently so I am afraid that my posts might have become a bit cryptic - what I mean to say is that we pupils shall ALL live to fight another day, so I can stop feeling anxious for myself and my fellow footsoldiers and get on with the task of making a case for tenancy.

Last night there was something of a lobster quadrille as each of us was desperate to know the fate of the others, but too British to do anything as vulgarly direct as to ask in case the answer would make things a bit awkward. Once we had fumbled our respective ways to the realisation that we were all still alive we were able to enjoy the moment and went for a drink. Nice to have the chance to relax together and exchange a few anecdotes amongst ourselves for once. I think that most pupils probably feel that they need to play their cards pretty close to their chests during pupillage when in fact everyone is eager to share their experiences and compare notes. It is certainly reassuring to find out that other people have made *rses of themselves with their pupilmasters and mistresses, and not everyone (or indeed anyone) has a relaxed and easygoing relationship with their PM.

Having said that, since Head of Chambers gave me the good news last night and thoughts turn to the start of my second six, the reality of the imminent end of my time with my current PM has begun to dawn and I realise that I am now much more able to relax in his company than I was before. He too has relaxed with me, and I think that he might almost admit in an unguarded moment to enjoying my company a little bit these days. He still has his rather dry style: when I came back from my meeting with Head of Chambers PM said that they would only have given me the boot if I had been completely brain dead, and that although I had made a number of valiant attempts to demonstrate that such was indeed the case, Chambers had seen through me and concluded that, despite appearances, I was sentient. I think that I am going to rather miss the miserable old sod!