Pootle pootle
Monday night -- practitioners' night.
After two weeks' practising bail applications in our criminal procedure sessions, we were divided into new groups to do one each before a Real Live practioner -- in my case, a barrister, as I had hoped, of I think two or three years' call.
I was really looking forward to this all day, because I feel I've got bail applications down pat. So I was really surprised when I got up and was very nervous. My structure came fairly naturally -- all my concentration was devoted to not speaking too quickly (she'd told the person who went before me that she was too fast) and not letting my voice shake or "um" and "er."
At the end, she said my structure and pace was good, (yay! I succeeded in speaking slowly enough!). She also said I was persuasive and I did well making her feel like I was really talking about a human being, with a life outside of the offence he'd been brought before the court for. She said the only thing she wanted to talk about was my delivery and then named an embarrassingly long list of fidgety things I'd done:
"You kept playing with your hair" (miming tucking hair behind her ears).
"Then you were doing this" (smoothing/patting down the front of her jacket).
"And shifting your weight from one foot to the other."
"If it had been just one thing I probably wouldn't have noticed but as it was I started wondering 'What is she going to do next?'"
How embarrassing! I guess that's how my nerves outed in this case -- all of this was done completely unconsciously. Hopefully I'll be more alert to it next time. I'll also wear my hair up. I had it half back, half down that evening and I had indeed been tucking one side of it behind my ear all day as it was bothering me. Wearing it up should sort that out. For the rest, probably the simplest solution is to plant my feet firmly at the beginning and place my hands on my lectern. They'll rise naturally if I want to use them to make a point, but I think I would notice and be able to stop myself if I took them off the lectern to fidget.
Next:
Tonight was my second qualifying session (after the introductory evening a few weeks ago), and my first evening of dining at Middle Temple.
I had hoped to have some company. It was a "call" evening where three people were being elevated to "benchers" within the inn. (There are three levels of membership -- students at the bottom, then members, then benchers once you've done lots of impressive things). One of them was the Master of the Temple Church, ie, the vicar, a Welshman who made a hilarious speech at our introductory evening. A Welsh girl in my class had said she was interested in coming to his call evening. Susannah also said she might be interested in coming to a dinner at the inn at some point.
Unfortunately Susannah is working on a huge rush order of furniture for some boys' bedroom, and when I went to school in my black dress and jacket, the Welsh classmate had completely forgotten that tonight was her "boyo"'s call night. She looked a bit gutted to be missing out, but it was too late to get tickets at that point and anyway she wasn't besuited.
So off I went on my own.
I arrived and was greeted by the porters, picked up my ticket and turned it in (we have to make sure to turn our tickets in at qualifying sessions so they have record that we attended). Then upstairs to the "ladies cloakroom" to drop off my jacket and bags and get a robe on for the first time ever. The first set I put on trailed on the floor around my high heels, but I found a different, knee-length style, so that was fine. Robes are open in the front and have no sleeves, more like slits at the side with little pointed bits of fabric to cap the shoulders.
I went onto the gallery from there as I was told there were drinks. I went up and asked for a glass of red wine, which was a tactical error as I didn't realise until it was poured that I was to pay £3 for it, whereas drink at dinner came gratis. A lesson for next time. I found a group of girls on the BVC at the College of Law, one of whom I recognised from my practitioner evening, and chatted with them for a bit.
When the hall was opened, I nipped back into the cloakroom to use the loo, and by the time I got downstairs the girls I had been chatting with were seated with people on either side of them. So I took a seat near the bottom of the table.
I tried chatting to the girls opposite me, one on her second year of a part-time BVC, and the other her guest, but the BVC student kept interrupting her exchange of pleasantries about our training to explain things to her friend "see, College of Law is another BVC provider," etc, and they ended up devolving into their own conversation.
After a while, another member-plus-friend pair who were sitting at the end of the table, a couple of empty places away from me, moved up to sit next to me and the girl opposite me. He had just come from his second day of pupillage, she, a friend, was an immigration caseworker at a solicitor's firm where he used to work prior to taking up his pupillage. We ended up talking primarily about American politics (surprisingly enough!) with bits about immigration, Turkey, Canadian politics (I'd told them we had an election coming, they asked about it), the BVC and getting pupillage, languages, etc.
Dinner was lovely. I had a ticket indicating I had special dietary requirements, but there was no more elaborate system. Basically with each course they would try to put something down in front of me, I'd say, "I'm sorry, I can't have that," and they'd go away muttering into an in-ear intercom and within minutes a vegan option would appear instead.
My starter was a salad of greens and fried mushrooms in a vinaigrette; main was a mound of thinly sliced roasted veg -- aubergines, potatoe, artichokes -- lovely. Dessert was fruit salad. Wine came with dinner (I didn't have any, still working on my first glass), and bread, and water. Port afterwards -- I did have a glass of that, lovely!
The speeches were amusing enough, and we were out by ten at which point I hoofed it to Temple station, feeling terribly barrister-ish and important in my all-black get-up (although a bit uncomfortable after several hours in a too-tight dress over control knickers and itchy stockings), and headed home.
At home, Susannah's ex-boyfriend Nye was visiting. He's just started his pupillage (I think he and Susannah lived together during his GDL -- poor Susannah!) is also a vegan and has just returned from extended travels with a friend which were capped off with a week in Istanbul, so as he said, "we ought to be fast friends" although to be honest I could wish he'd come a different night as his presence delayed my ability to get out of my itchy stockings and into my pyjamas. Hey ho.
After two weeks' practising bail applications in our criminal procedure sessions, we were divided into new groups to do one each before a Real Live practioner -- in my case, a barrister, as I had hoped, of I think two or three years' call.
I was really looking forward to this all day, because I feel I've got bail applications down pat. So I was really surprised when I got up and was very nervous. My structure came fairly naturally -- all my concentration was devoted to not speaking too quickly (she'd told the person who went before me that she was too fast) and not letting my voice shake or "um" and "er."
At the end, she said my structure and pace was good, (yay! I succeeded in speaking slowly enough!). She also said I was persuasive and I did well making her feel like I was really talking about a human being, with a life outside of the offence he'd been brought before the court for. She said the only thing she wanted to talk about was my delivery and then named an embarrassingly long list of fidgety things I'd done:
"You kept playing with your hair" (miming tucking hair behind her ears).
"Then you were doing this" (smoothing/patting down the front of her jacket).
"And shifting your weight from one foot to the other."
"If it had been just one thing I probably wouldn't have noticed but as it was I started wondering 'What is she going to do next?'"
How embarrassing! I guess that's how my nerves outed in this case -- all of this was done completely unconsciously. Hopefully I'll be more alert to it next time. I'll also wear my hair up. I had it half back, half down that evening and I had indeed been tucking one side of it behind my ear all day as it was bothering me. Wearing it up should sort that out. For the rest, probably the simplest solution is to plant my feet firmly at the beginning and place my hands on my lectern. They'll rise naturally if I want to use them to make a point, but I think I would notice and be able to stop myself if I took them off the lectern to fidget.
Next:
Tonight was my second qualifying session (after the introductory evening a few weeks ago), and my first evening of dining at Middle Temple.
I had hoped to have some company. It was a "call" evening where three people were being elevated to "benchers" within the inn. (There are three levels of membership -- students at the bottom, then members, then benchers once you've done lots of impressive things). One of them was the Master of the Temple Church, ie, the vicar, a Welshman who made a hilarious speech at our introductory evening. A Welsh girl in my class had said she was interested in coming to his call evening. Susannah also said she might be interested in coming to a dinner at the inn at some point.
Unfortunately Susannah is working on a huge rush order of furniture for some boys' bedroom, and when I went to school in my black dress and jacket, the Welsh classmate had completely forgotten that tonight was her "boyo"'s call night. She looked a bit gutted to be missing out, but it was too late to get tickets at that point and anyway she wasn't besuited.
So off I went on my own.
I arrived and was greeted by the porters, picked up my ticket and turned it in (we have to make sure to turn our tickets in at qualifying sessions so they have record that we attended). Then upstairs to the "ladies cloakroom" to drop off my jacket and bags and get a robe on for the first time ever. The first set I put on trailed on the floor around my high heels, but I found a different, knee-length style, so that was fine. Robes are open in the front and have no sleeves, more like slits at the side with little pointed bits of fabric to cap the shoulders.
I went onto the gallery from there as I was told there were drinks. I went up and asked for a glass of red wine, which was a tactical error as I didn't realise until it was poured that I was to pay £3 for it, whereas drink at dinner came gratis. A lesson for next time. I found a group of girls on the BVC at the College of Law, one of whom I recognised from my practitioner evening, and chatted with them for a bit.
When the hall was opened, I nipped back into the cloakroom to use the loo, and by the time I got downstairs the girls I had been chatting with were seated with people on either side of them. So I took a seat near the bottom of the table.
I tried chatting to the girls opposite me, one on her second year of a part-time BVC, and the other her guest, but the BVC student kept interrupting her exchange of pleasantries about our training to explain things to her friend "see, College of Law is another BVC provider," etc, and they ended up devolving into their own conversation.
After a while, another member-plus-friend pair who were sitting at the end of the table, a couple of empty places away from me, moved up to sit next to me and the girl opposite me. He had just come from his second day of pupillage, she, a friend, was an immigration caseworker at a solicitor's firm where he used to work prior to taking up his pupillage. We ended up talking primarily about American politics (surprisingly enough!) with bits about immigration, Turkey, Canadian politics (I'd told them we had an election coming, they asked about it), the BVC and getting pupillage, languages, etc.
Dinner was lovely. I had a ticket indicating I had special dietary requirements, but there was no more elaborate system. Basically with each course they would try to put something down in front of me, I'd say, "I'm sorry, I can't have that," and they'd go away muttering into an in-ear intercom and within minutes a vegan option would appear instead.
My starter was a salad of greens and fried mushrooms in a vinaigrette; main was a mound of thinly sliced roasted veg -- aubergines, potatoe, artichokes -- lovely. Dessert was fruit salad. Wine came with dinner (I didn't have any, still working on my first glass), and bread, and water. Port afterwards -- I did have a glass of that, lovely!
The speeches were amusing enough, and we were out by ten at which point I hoofed it to Temple station, feeling terribly barrister-ish and important in my all-black get-up (although a bit uncomfortable after several hours in a too-tight dress over control knickers and itchy stockings), and headed home.
At home, Susannah's ex-boyfriend Nye was visiting. He's just started his pupillage (I think he and Susannah lived together during his GDL -- poor Susannah!) is also a vegan and has just returned from extended travels with a friend which were capped off with a week in Istanbul, so as he said, "we ought to be fast friends" although to be honest I could wish he'd come a different night as his presence delayed my ability to get out of my itchy stockings and into my pyjamas. Hey ho.