Middle Temple
Introductory evening last night. One qualifying session down of the twelve that I must complete before being called to the bar next July.
Basically, they talked at us and gave us wine. They commiserated several times with us on the shortage of pupillages as compared to the vast number of, well, us. They told us several times that we had already shown good judgment in choosing "the best Inn" (as compared to Inner Temple, Lincoln's Inn or Grey's Inn). They were frequently funny. Apparently I have joined an elite and will be paranoid for the rest of my life (pupillage paranoia gives way to tenancy paranoia, building a career paranoia, is my career good enough paranoia, am I doing well enough at this case paranoia, will I be made silk paranoia, will I be made judge paranoia, what kind of judge will I be made paranoia, will they all find out that I'm really a complete idiot paranoia, turning 35 paranoia, and eventually, once made silk, judge, and all the rest of it, and having left 35 far behind, will I have a pension paranoia and death paranoia).
In the meantime, I need clothes. Damn. Was hoping to avoid that eventuality this year. However. I have a grey skirt suit and a navy blue trouser suit, neither of which are terribly chic and neither of which fit perfectly anymore, but I thought I could last the year with them anyhow and make do. But I have now found out that the dress code for dining at Middle Temple is, for women, either a black suit or a black dress with a smart black jacket. I have no black suit. I have a black dress, which fit last year, but I almost dare not try it on now to see if it still does (it ought not to have kept fitting until last year, I've had it since I was 14!) -- and I have no smart black jacket in any case.
Argh.
Basically, they talked at us and gave us wine. They commiserated several times with us on the shortage of pupillages as compared to the vast number of, well, us. They told us several times that we had already shown good judgment in choosing "the best Inn" (as compared to Inner Temple, Lincoln's Inn or Grey's Inn). They were frequently funny. Apparently I have joined an elite and will be paranoid for the rest of my life (pupillage paranoia gives way to tenancy paranoia, building a career paranoia, is my career good enough paranoia, am I doing well enough at this case paranoia, will I be made silk paranoia, will I be made judge paranoia, what kind of judge will I be made paranoia, will they all find out that I'm really a complete idiot paranoia, turning 35 paranoia, and eventually, once made silk, judge, and all the rest of it, and having left 35 far behind, will I have a pension paranoia and death paranoia).
In the meantime, I need clothes. Damn. Was hoping to avoid that eventuality this year. However. I have a grey skirt suit and a navy blue trouser suit, neither of which are terribly chic and neither of which fit perfectly anymore, but I thought I could last the year with them anyhow and make do. But I have now found out that the dress code for dining at Middle Temple is, for women, either a black suit or a black dress with a smart black jacket. I have no black suit. I have a black dress, which fit last year, but I almost dare not try it on now to see if it still does (it ought not to have kept fitting until last year, I've had it since I was 14!) -- and I have no smart black jacket in any case.
Argh.