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It's been a grey day, but now, at the last moment, the sun is reflecting pink and gold off the roof garden of the house behind my flat. I've hardly moved from my room all day, except to go to lunch. Yesterday I was afraid I would have to go in today for a hearing before a QBD Master, but it settled, then again this morning when a hearing in St Albans came in for tomorrow, but that went off while my clerk was still on the phone. Most worrying of all was the second phone call from my clerk, at quarter to six: would I be prepared to do an emergency freezing injunction over a seven figure bank account at 10.30 tomorrow morning in the High Court, given I was the only member of Chambers both available and close enough to Chambers to fetch the papers.
As it happened, we convinced them there were these things called courier firms (on a good day it's a pleasant walk from here to my office through Regent's Park, Fitzrovia, and Soho, but it takes at least an hour), and in any event it now, after a couple of hours work, won't be happening. But are all these people under the impression that when I say "I'll be working at home" I mean I'll be doing work?
I lie: I do work at home quite a lot, even without a tube strike as an excuse, and accomplish quite a lot. Just not today. Yesterday I had a fair amount of desk clearing to do, so it was today that post-Glastonbury waves of exhaustion caught up with me.. switched off all three alarms in half-sleep, finally arose at 9, ended up falling asleep on the sofa for much of the afternoon.
I'm feeling flat, and blue, those not being the same at all. I haven't accomplished the things in my life I had hoped I would by now, and wonder if I ever will. Meanwhile my old friend Emily is writing full-page heavy-weight articles in the TLS and the LRB as well as teaching classics in the Ivy League...
Currently listening to Goldfrapp, Black Cherry, bought on impulse (and with a substantial double discount), having been blown away by their set over the weekend. I hadn't quite seen the point before. I'm sure Alison Goldfrapp's attire had very little to do with my Damascene moment.
I'm also browsing through the Proms listing and wondering whether I can really justify a season ticket this year given I'm away for half of August and both of Uncle Gordon's Bands of Merry Men have demanded money with menaces by the end of next month, contrary, as that much-neglected legal genius Albert Haddock once pointed out, to the blackmail offences.
Ho hum. I shall go and cheer myself up with a Jennings book, in memory of Anthony Buckeridge. I wonder what Nigel Molesworth would have made of Jennings...
(Edited to add two random links: via Notes from the Legal Underground: there are some celebrity clients one really hopes never need your services; and via Eccles the news that a fourth series has been made of Lexx and is being shown on Monday nights in the UK, on Channel 5. Hurrah. Don't look at me like that.)
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