Hmm...
Hammeda Harber Har.
Blather.
Razzafrackin' Frazzanaks.
.
.
.
.
.
Sorry, I just had to get that out of my system.
Last night I actually got a whole SEVEN hours of sleep, becaus I managed to get into bed by 11 (I still only got out of bed at half six, but it takes me a while to get to sleep).
And you know something? I still feel exhausted.
Today was emotional.
First of all, there was no Chris to provide resonance to my Anarchic Impulses and Lumpen Proletarian Grousing for twenty minutes at lunch. I had to settle for eating a Chicken Sandwich with Tomato (which I didn't order! Can I get a witness?) and read the Sun. Never a terribly intellectually stimulating activity, even if it does provide occaisional eye candy.
The Agency has sent a fresh-faced young graduate girl name Geraldine who is actually going to go back to Uni to write her Masters in just over two weeks. Choke on that management.
But she ain't no Chris. Furthermore, she further contributes to the X/Y Chromosome imbalance in the office. Which shouldn't bother me, really. But sometimes I need an Island of masculinity in the sea of Oestrogen to ground me.
But that wasn't the main prob.
The main thing which bugged me was that Sitting on the Bench in Court Two was Miss D Quick. I type with trepidation, since I don't want to get Dooced (ie fired for something I typed in a Blog) but even after the marked improvements that I have made in my capacity as a list caller I found it incredibly hard to keep up with the pace she demanded while still conforming to her Particular Demands. EG not letting doors slam shut, working without a fan (Court 2 is stupidly hot) and so on.
Still, all would have been fine but for three random cases with three different random reasons why they couldn't go ahead, (missing files, missing Counsel, missing reports etc) compounded by stroppy Chav Fuckwits in the hallway who would assail me everytime I'd jump up to make a tannoy for either a defendant or a solicitor or the probation officer or something, as well as some east european fuckers etc.
It all ground to a halt somewhere around three O'Clock when Sid Brought in new pile of Cases and the Clerk demanded I carry them over before I had a chance to take note of what the cases were. Sid intervened on my behalf and was told the same thing but, to his credit, stood his ground. Cheers, Sid.
Sid further earned my gratitude by offering to swap courtrooms with me, an offer I would normally refuse but for the possibility that had I stayed I would have probably snapped.
I got to Court Three to find that they had just finished their last case. The Clerk went to see if there were any cases to be taken from other courts leaving me and the prosecutor in that room to peruse the Bible and Read the Sun respectively.
It turns out in the Jerusalem Bible, the Verse 4 of Genesis 6 reads "In Those Days there were the Nephilim." The only other bible I have seen that uses the word Nephilim instead of Giants is the Bible they gave me when I left Churchie (since missing somewhere... I'm sure someone will find it when they go looking for some other book of mine).
Since Court 7 was over, I hung with Judy, the older Indian lady in Court 5 (which had actually taken some of court 2's Cases). She asked me if I was okay, because I looked pale and my eyes were red.
Truth be told I have been feeling nauseas/crampy on and off over the last two days, and I am still nursing a headache on and off.
But the red eyes and paleness were just a product of tiredness and stress. Not drinking, crying or smoking weed.
Judy actually told me that on her first day she had gone home crying. That was six years ago, and Judy must be around fifty.
I might be wrong, but I always get the impression that Indian women have a certain strength, so for something to upset her that badly she must have had a rough time.
I'm still going to persevere with the job. I just had a bad day. And even my bad days are better than my good days were not too long ago.
A good thing that happened today was that I got to talk to Farrah, who was representing someone in some other court in the morning, and someone else in the afternoon. She was wearing a slim cut trouser suit and she had her hair up, impressive in itself since her hair is pretty long.
We chatted a bit about her Open Mic Night thing (on next week) and the like. It was cool.
I get the feeling that she was less than impressed that I couldn't find out anything about a client of hers who was down in the cells.
To be fair to me, without a file, a CPS bundle and a register to wrap it in, there isn't a lot I can do, and all I'm really supposed to be doing is ordering the list and calling the cases.
Actually finding the pieces that make the list is a task that is more the department of Vladimir and Peter downstairs, among others.
In any case, the hardest cases in my office, not to mention the other list-callers and a couple of the Solicitors and Barristers all nodded their heads in understanding when the name of the Sittin District Justice was mentioned.
"Quick by name, quick by nature." they would say.
More like Quick as in "Cuts to the".
After work I felt trashed, so I took the tube to Oxford Central and Changed for Leytonstone. Elaine talked to me to make sure I was all right and gave me some encouraging pointers etc.
She's on holiday as of tomorrow, but Anj is going to be back.
But Anj will be training the new girl.
At home I tried to build up the momentum to get moving but I kept fading out. I tried to find Chris's email address etc but I couldn't find it anywhere in my bag.
It must still be at the Courthouse.
I'm blogged out.
Over and out.
J
Blather.
Razzafrackin' Frazzanaks.
.
.
.
.
.
Sorry, I just had to get that out of my system.
Last night I actually got a whole SEVEN hours of sleep, becaus I managed to get into bed by 11 (I still only got out of bed at half six, but it takes me a while to get to sleep).
And you know something? I still feel exhausted.
Today was emotional.
First of all, there was no Chris to provide resonance to my Anarchic Impulses and Lumpen Proletarian Grousing for twenty minutes at lunch. I had to settle for eating a Chicken Sandwich with Tomato (which I didn't order! Can I get a witness?) and read the Sun. Never a terribly intellectually stimulating activity, even if it does provide occaisional eye candy.
The Agency has sent a fresh-faced young graduate girl name Geraldine who is actually going to go back to Uni to write her Masters in just over two weeks. Choke on that management.
But she ain't no Chris. Furthermore, she further contributes to the X/Y Chromosome imbalance in the office. Which shouldn't bother me, really. But sometimes I need an Island of masculinity in the sea of Oestrogen to ground me.
But that wasn't the main prob.
The main thing which bugged me was that Sitting on the Bench in Court Two was Miss D Quick. I type with trepidation, since I don't want to get Dooced (ie fired for something I typed in a Blog) but even after the marked improvements that I have made in my capacity as a list caller I found it incredibly hard to keep up with the pace she demanded while still conforming to her Particular Demands. EG not letting doors slam shut, working without a fan (Court 2 is stupidly hot) and so on.
Still, all would have been fine but for three random cases with three different random reasons why they couldn't go ahead, (missing files, missing Counsel, missing reports etc) compounded by stroppy Chav Fuckwits in the hallway who would assail me everytime I'd jump up to make a tannoy for either a defendant or a solicitor or the probation officer or something, as well as some east european fuckers etc.
It all ground to a halt somewhere around three O'Clock when Sid Brought in new pile of Cases and the Clerk demanded I carry them over before I had a chance to take note of what the cases were. Sid intervened on my behalf and was told the same thing but, to his credit, stood his ground. Cheers, Sid.
Sid further earned my gratitude by offering to swap courtrooms with me, an offer I would normally refuse but for the possibility that had I stayed I would have probably snapped.
I got to Court Three to find that they had just finished their last case. The Clerk went to see if there were any cases to be taken from other courts leaving me and the prosecutor in that room to peruse the Bible and Read the Sun respectively.
It turns out in the Jerusalem Bible, the Verse 4 of Genesis 6 reads "In Those Days there were the Nephilim." The only other bible I have seen that uses the word Nephilim instead of Giants is the Bible they gave me when I left Churchie (since missing somewhere... I'm sure someone will find it when they go looking for some other book of mine).
Since Court 7 was over, I hung with Judy, the older Indian lady in Court 5 (which had actually taken some of court 2's Cases). She asked me if I was okay, because I looked pale and my eyes were red.
Truth be told I have been feeling nauseas/crampy on and off over the last two days, and I am still nursing a headache on and off.
But the red eyes and paleness were just a product of tiredness and stress. Not drinking, crying or smoking weed.
Judy actually told me that on her first day she had gone home crying. That was six years ago, and Judy must be around fifty.
I might be wrong, but I always get the impression that Indian women have a certain strength, so for something to upset her that badly she must have had a rough time.
I'm still going to persevere with the job. I just had a bad day. And even my bad days are better than my good days were not too long ago.
A good thing that happened today was that I got to talk to Farrah, who was representing someone in some other court in the morning, and someone else in the afternoon. She was wearing a slim cut trouser suit and she had her hair up, impressive in itself since her hair is pretty long.
We chatted a bit about her Open Mic Night thing (on next week) and the like. It was cool.
I get the feeling that she was less than impressed that I couldn't find out anything about a client of hers who was down in the cells.
To be fair to me, without a file, a CPS bundle and a register to wrap it in, there isn't a lot I can do, and all I'm really supposed to be doing is ordering the list and calling the cases.
Actually finding the pieces that make the list is a task that is more the department of Vladimir and Peter downstairs, among others.
In any case, the hardest cases in my office, not to mention the other list-callers and a couple of the Solicitors and Barristers all nodded their heads in understanding when the name of the Sittin District Justice was mentioned.
"Quick by name, quick by nature." they would say.
More like Quick as in "Cuts to the".
After work I felt trashed, so I took the tube to Oxford Central and Changed for Leytonstone. Elaine talked to me to make sure I was all right and gave me some encouraging pointers etc.
She's on holiday as of tomorrow, but Anj is going to be back.
But Anj will be training the new girl.
At home I tried to build up the momentum to get moving but I kept fading out. I tried to find Chris's email address etc but I couldn't find it anywhere in my bag.
It must still be at the Courthouse.
I'm blogged out.
Over and out.
J
posted by the.exile at 6:42 pm
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