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Wake up 2008-02-22 | 8:46 p.m. Oh dear. I bumped into The Barrister (TM) on my way into the Bailey this morning. He cornered me (on a bloody staircase of all things...HOW?) and therefore trapped me into a conversation. He feigned sadness that I wasn't going to be in his trial that day, told me 'You bring joy to whichever courtroom you're in,' said something or other querying my relationship status and then informed me he desired my presence back in his trial and wanted to take me for a drink. When am I back in his trial? MONDAY. AGH. I don't know though, he says all these things but the words seem to flow from his mouth in such a jocular fashion that I don't think there's an ounce of sincerity behind them, so I should have nothing to fear... It's strange. When I first started my training for this job I dreamed of snaring a hot barrister type, a la Mark Darcy, but swiftly had my fantasies crushed by the fact that most barristers are either conceited, snobbish, trick you into thinking they have hair when they don't, are over 60, married, or all five. Although maybe my standards are just too high and I should be grateful for even what is very possibly false attention. Bugger, I said I would try not to mention work. However I have a party tomorrow involving Tori, Kentish Town and wine, I do believe. Thank fuck for that. |
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