Saturday 1 June
It is a Saturday but since my tenancy in chambers starts from today there is nothing that could stop me going in just to be able to sit in my own office. This does seem very try-hard so if anyone else from chambers is there and questions it I will play it cool and say I am moving things in.
There is no one else there.
I do take things with me. I have an old computer monitor. But I need a laptop stand so I can use my laptop as a second screen. There is a PB Tech a block away, so I walk to buy a laptop stand. I set it up. But then I need an extra dongle to plug in the wireless keyboard receiver. So I walk back to PB Tech. Later, when I need a multibox, I tell myself that I have had enough trips to PB Tech for one day.
When I leave for the day, the front door lock doesn’t work. Everyone here is very big on security. I stand jiggling the lock for over a minute. I dread having to call one of the silks to explain, even though I have my “just moving things in” explanation. It locks when you snib the lock from the inside. It just doesn’t lock when I try to turn my key from the outside. Maybe I wore it out from all the trips to PB Tech. I won’t mention that if I have to phone a silk. Then the lock works. I walk extra fast to the car to burn off the adrenaline.
Sunday 2 June
It is still the weekend but I go in again. I have work to do – some discovery for my much-more-talented wife. I avoided discovery during my early career, so I am not a LawFlow native. Who do you set as author and recipient of a long email trail with multiple authors? Just the people in the top email, or everyone in the trail? I feel if the Court of Appeal had said something about this I would know the answer.
It feels nice to work in my own office. Nice and also cold because I don’t know how to work the after-hours heating.
Monday 3 June
Monday, so everyone else is here. They are very kind. I am shown how to print documents, which is very important. It is a warm welcome. Warm figuratively, because it turns out I don’t know how to work the in-hours heating either and I am too nervous to ask. I will see if I can bring it up naturally in conversation later.
Tuesday 4 June
My wrists are very cold because it is tough to work things into conversation when everyone is in their own office. It is easier to speak to people in open plan because you can see when they are doing NYT Connections and know you can interrupt them. On the plus side, no one can see me doing NYT Connections in my office. I am still doing discovery. I am drinking hot Milo from a hand decorated mug I found in the pantry. On one side it says Simon. On the other side is a stamped logo of Russell McVeagh McKenzie Bartleet & Co. There is no one here called Simon any more. Maybe Judge Lance left it behind. In between sips I warm up my wrists on the side of the mug.
I’ve got the front door lock down to about 30 seconds now.
Wednesday 5 June
I have come in early to spray CRC on the bathroom door hinges because they are very squeaky. I don’t think people will mind but just in case I am doing it when no one is here.
Months ago my much-more talented wife suggested we both sign up for the NZBA Appellate Advocacy Masterclass. I figure the name Mooting for Grown-Ups was taken. Enrolling seemed like a very good idea at the time but since then I have received the materials. It is based on Burke v R – a case about s 66(2) party liability, which I have never understood. The course is on Friday and I have to make 20 minutes of submissions in front of a room full of people. It is now Wednesday. Previous efforts at reading the materials have produced what, with considerable further study, might one day verge on a basic understanding. The course is co-convened by one of the silks from chambers, so the imperative to not suck is overwhelming. The instructions say don’t read the Supreme Court decision in Burke. This is easy to comply with because when it came out a few weeks ago I breezily dismissed it as relating to s 66(2) and didn’t pay any attention to it. If I don’t understand it by Thursday night I will break the emergency glass and read the SC decision.
Thursday 6 June
I wear a large cardigan in my office because the heating it still a mystery. As well as wrist-warmth, the cardigan is a source of stress because I have worn jeans every day and already suspect I am slightly underdressed for chambers. The addition of the cardigan – which is very cozy but comically large – is probably taking the piss. I keep my door shut so people don’t see me wearing it.
For most of the day the concepts and cases in Burke swirl around just out of reach. I figure I just have to keep reading the impenetrable fine print enough times until I get a handle on the big picture. Once I know the big picture the details will make sense. By the end of the day the ideas are just starting to cohere and I write out thoughts for maybe 20 minutes of submissions, and post-it-note pinpoint references in three of the more understandable cases in the bundle of authorities. This might work as long as I get no questions about arguments for party liability for s 168 murder, which I do not understand. I include a West Wing “10 word answer” in the introduction. It is probably too gimmicky – too pat, and it will sound rehearsed even though I don’t really have time to rehearse it. If I hate it in the morning I will delete it. The silk stops by to ask me how I am going with my preparation. Going okay, I say. I won’t read Burke and will roll the dice.
When I leave that night the lock gives me grief again.
Friday 7 June
D-Day. The Masterclass thing is offsite. Terence Arnold is unwell and can’t judge it. I am secretly okay with this because I have tweeted a lot of sailing jokes over the years. The silks who act as coaches will sub in his place. My judge is the silk from my chambers. Great. The other permanent judges are Paul Davison and Pamela Andrews. I have appeared in front of both of them before – Davison J in the High Court maybe three times and Andrews J in her post-judicial career as Chair of the Real Estate Agents Disciplinary Tribunal maybe fifteen times. There are also a lot of silks here. I am not good at speaking to people at these things so I stand in a corner. My bundles are in Eastlights because I don’t know how to work the binding machine at chambers and its operation is a topic that will be worked into the same conversation as heating. But three Eastlights is a chunky armful and it means I have to sort of hug my bundles. David Jones KC walks past me on his way to the judges briefing and barks at me to “Stop looking so studious”. I don’t really know what to say to that so I start to apologise but he has already walked past me and I go back to hugging my bundles.
In the submissions, I use the gimmicky line. It has some more lead-in, but it goes something like “Section 66(2) means defendants who are in for a penny are in for a pound. But it does not mean they are in for a blank cheque”. It works, just. But it is cringe at the same time. Or maybe it works because it is cringe. The rest of the submissions I feel like Moist von Lipwig. I get away with it because I have figuratively read one page ahead in the textbook – sometimes just one paragraph. Pivot the questions back to my point. Concede where necessary, but explain why it doesn’t matter to my argument. Because it is only 20 minutes there is no need to deal with party liability for s 168 murder, which I still don’t understand. No one figures out I am walking on stepping stones just below the surface of the water. The polite young man act, my much more talented wife calls it.
I am speaking a little fast. Five years of appearing in front of Andrews J in the Real Estate Agents Disciplinary Tribunal and there was not a single hearing where she did not insist that people speak slower so she could take notes. I forget this in the moment. At the end my feedback is that the gimmicky line almost didn’t work and that I spoke a little fast. Fair. I don’t think I embarrassed myself in front of the silk from my chambers though, but she probably thinks I am very self-satisfied about the gimmicky line. I hate that I kind of am.
At the end of the day I leave the drinks early (see above re not good at speaking to people at these things). I head back to chambers. At my old firm there was a cupboard full of chips that you could eat at 4pm on a Friday. Now my cupboard only has a spray can of CRC. I pop out to the New World which is next to the PB Tech and buy some chips. I share them with the barrister two doors down in chambers. We chat for a little while but how to work the heating doesn’t come up.
10 June 2024
The next Monday. The silk tells me I did well and I fumble the compliment. A friend calls me. He wasn’t at the NZBA thing but somehow knows about in for a penny in for a pound. This seems bad.
After the call I press every combination of buttons on the heating controls in my office. The vents start roaring. Very loudly. I don’t think my office neighbours’ heating is that loud. What if my heater annoys them? I turn off the heating, shut my door, and put on my cardigan. Maybe I can make a Milo later.
So far I have done no billable work except for the discovery but when I leave the lock works first time so I figure things are looking up.
Strictly obiter 