*/
There is no suspense in inevitability.
I have been lucky, but the statistics were against me. It was going to happen, it was bound to happen and it finally did happen. Last month, I was in the middle of addressing a very pleasant judge when I noticed that my mobile phone was behaving oddly.
Those little communication boxes have sabotaged society far more effectively than an army of foreign agents. It is impossible to have a conversation with anyone under 70 without their hands drifting inexorably to the dreaded mobile. I have noticed the more junior tenants can even start laughing or frowning inappropriately in the middle of my anecdotes, not because of anything I have said, but as a result of some text or posting that has caught their eye. A few will say ‘sorry, I must just look at this…’, but most simply carry on regardless. What is even worse is that these contraptions make one susceptible to contact anywhere and anytime and we seem unable simply to ignore them. Of course, I am as guilty as the rest…
When we come to the courts, this mixture of frustration, annoyance and need reaches a somewhat illogical climax. Once mobiles had emerged as one of those things everyone had to have, the Court Service leapt into action and banned them. I pride myself on having successfully challenged the legality of this ban with a testy usher. I had looked up the relevant law and found that only the use of phones and cameras in court could be prevented and within 24 hours all the notices had been changed to reflect the true position. I always say it was my intervention that changed everything, but it was probably a coincidence.
This rule has now evolved into something more tangled. I was stopped in the street once by a man who had been on the jury of the case in which I had just been defending. I told him firmly I couldn’t talk about the case, but it wasn’t the case that was on his mind. ‘What gets me, mate,’ he said, ‘is how we get yelled at when our phones go off in court but you barristers are on them the whole time.’ That anomaly had crossed my mind before, although of course we are not using them for oral conversations – usually. Sitting as a Recorder, I had been just about to yell at some poor prosecutor for appearing actually to be texting on the phone while addressing me, when I realised he was really looking up something in Archbold which he had downloaded on to his phone. Also, it is convenient to have one’s junior message towards lunchtime with the sandwich menu…
Still, mine should not have been on my lectern. Its vibration was very audible but what was more peculiar was that it seemed be radiating a red light in a circular pulse. It made me jump and then I just stared at it in horror. The judge seemed less transfixed. ‘You’ve been pinged, Mr Byfield.’ ‘Pinged?’ I enquired. ‘You appear to have been in close contact with someone who has recently tested positive for COVID.’ ‘What do I do?’ I asked. ‘You go straight to prison without passing ‘GO’ and without collecting £200.’ He smiled. ‘You need to go home and stay there for as long as the App says.’ ‘Do I have to?’ I asked. ‘Well,’ said the judge, ‘that’s a moot point. It may be you are simply advised to go home and stay there if the warning comes only from the App, but it doesn’t matter because Security won’t let you in anyway if you answer their questions truthfully.’ I asked if I should finish my submission. ‘No, I think you have already persuaded me,’ he replied. ‘That was a bit of luck,’ my client said later. ‘Saved by COVID.’
I have at last finished my isolation. It was worse than the original lockdown. I was not even allowed out. I could not work out whether I liked the return to peace and quiet and hours of films on Talking Pictures, or whether I had re-entered one of Dante’s Circles of Hell. My last day of isolation was also the occasion of Hetty Briar-Pitt’s ‘fête-en-champetre’ with champagne, summer cup and canapés. I told her I thought I was perfectly safe to come as I had isolated for ten days, was double vaccinated and had already had the wretched illness. ‘Sorry,’ said Hetty, and added, as perhaps I should have predicted, ‘It’s not the other guests I care about. It’s my horses. I don’t want you passing anything on to them.’
There is no suspense in inevitability.
I have been lucky, but the statistics were against me. It was going to happen, it was bound to happen and it finally did happen. Last month, I was in the middle of addressing a very pleasant judge when I noticed that my mobile phone was behaving oddly.
Those little communication boxes have sabotaged society far more effectively than an army of foreign agents. It is impossible to have a conversation with anyone under 70 without their hands drifting inexorably to the dreaded mobile. I have noticed the more junior tenants can even start laughing or frowning inappropriately in the middle of my anecdotes, not because of anything I have said, but as a result of some text or posting that has caught their eye. A few will say ‘sorry, I must just look at this…’, but most simply carry on regardless. What is even worse is that these contraptions make one susceptible to contact anywhere and anytime and we seem unable simply to ignore them. Of course, I am as guilty as the rest…
When we come to the courts, this mixture of frustration, annoyance and need reaches a somewhat illogical climax. Once mobiles had emerged as one of those things everyone had to have, the Court Service leapt into action and banned them. I pride myself on having successfully challenged the legality of this ban with a testy usher. I had looked up the relevant law and found that only the use of phones and cameras in court could be prevented and within 24 hours all the notices had been changed to reflect the true position. I always say it was my intervention that changed everything, but it was probably a coincidence.
This rule has now evolved into something more tangled. I was stopped in the street once by a man who had been on the jury of the case in which I had just been defending. I told him firmly I couldn’t talk about the case, but it wasn’t the case that was on his mind. ‘What gets me, mate,’ he said, ‘is how we get yelled at when our phones go off in court but you barristers are on them the whole time.’ That anomaly had crossed my mind before, although of course we are not using them for oral conversations – usually. Sitting as a Recorder, I had been just about to yell at some poor prosecutor for appearing actually to be texting on the phone while addressing me, when I realised he was really looking up something in Archbold which he had downloaded on to his phone. Also, it is convenient to have one’s junior message towards lunchtime with the sandwich menu…
Still, mine should not have been on my lectern. Its vibration was very audible but what was more peculiar was that it seemed be radiating a red light in a circular pulse. It made me jump and then I just stared at it in horror. The judge seemed less transfixed. ‘You’ve been pinged, Mr Byfield.’ ‘Pinged?’ I enquired. ‘You appear to have been in close contact with someone who has recently tested positive for COVID.’ ‘What do I do?’ I asked. ‘You go straight to prison without passing ‘GO’ and without collecting £200.’ He smiled. ‘You need to go home and stay there for as long as the App says.’ ‘Do I have to?’ I asked. ‘Well,’ said the judge, ‘that’s a moot point. It may be you are simply advised to go home and stay there if the warning comes only from the App, but it doesn’t matter because Security won’t let you in anyway if you answer their questions truthfully.’ I asked if I should finish my submission. ‘No, I think you have already persuaded me,’ he replied. ‘That was a bit of luck,’ my client said later. ‘Saved by COVID.’
I have at last finished my isolation. It was worse than the original lockdown. I was not even allowed out. I could not work out whether I liked the return to peace and quiet and hours of films on Talking Pictures, or whether I had re-entered one of Dante’s Circles of Hell. My last day of isolation was also the occasion of Hetty Briar-Pitt’s ‘fête-en-champetre’ with champagne, summer cup and canapés. I told her I thought I was perfectly safe to come as I had isolated for ten days, was double vaccinated and had already had the wretched illness. ‘Sorry,’ said Hetty, and added, as perhaps I should have predicted, ‘It’s not the other guests I care about. It’s my horses. I don’t want you passing anything on to them.’
Sam Townend KC explains the Bar Council’s efforts towards ensuring a bright future for the profession
Giovanni D’Avola explores the issue of over-citation of unreported cases and the ‘added value’ elements of a law report
Louise Crush explores the key points and opportunities for tax efficiency
Westgate Wealth Management Ltd is a Partner Practice of FTSE 100 company St. James’s Place – one of the top UK Wealth Management firms. We offer a holistic service of distinct quality, integrity, and excellence with the aim to build a professional and valuable relationship with our clients, helping to provide them with security now, prosperity in the future and the highest standard of service in all of our dealings.
Is now the time to review your financial position, having reached a career milestone? asks Louise Crush
If you were to host a dinner party with 10 guests, and you asked them to explain what financial planning is and how it differs to financial advice, you’d receive 10 different answers. The variety of answers highlights the ongoing need to clarify and promote the value of financial planning.
Most of us like to think we would risk our career in order to meet our ethical obligations, so why have so many lawyers failed to hold the line? asks Flora Page
If your current practice environment is bringing you down, seek a new one. However daunting the change, it will be worth it, says Anon Barrister
Creating advocacy opportunities for juniors is now the expectation but not always easy to put into effect. Tom Mitcheson KC distils developing best practice from the Patents Court initiative already bearing fruit
Sam Townend KC explains the Bar Council’s efforts towards ensuring a bright future for the profession
The long-running fee-paid judicial pensions saga continues. The current cut-off date for giving notice of election to join FPJPS is 31 March 2024, and that date now gives rise to a serious problem, warns HH John Platt