Last night I had a dream about The Barrister. Not one of those dreams, you will be pleased to hear, but I still woke up feeling a bit WTF. I haven't thought about him in ages and the Tiffany necklace remains unworn.

So, anyway, I promptly forgot about my dream as I often do within approximately ten seconds of waking up and went about my normal routine. I was feeling quite happy today as my court only sat for about 45 minutes and I also finally handed in the bastard transcript that had taken over my life (all 422 pages of it) and spent the afternoon getting on with my next piece of work and chatting to my workmates. And then I heard the woman on the tannoy system, which made my ears prick up straight away:

'Will [The Barrister] please contact the switchboard?'

'I have misheard,' I told myself, until five minutes later when the message was relayed again and there was no mistaking it. Armed with the knowledge that The Barrister was prowling about somewhere in the Old Bailey I...did nothing.

Watch this space.

previous | next