MockingBird
I met up with Claire over the weekend and another junior member of her own chambers who I can only call MockingBird. You see sheâs as brassy a Northerner as youâre ever likely to meet and calls all men âladsâ and ladies âbirdsâ. She makes a point of only drinking pints of beer and is a dab hand at darts by her own account. I guess in the nineties she might have been labelled a ladette but actually she’s far too sophisticated for that. More like a walking talking ironic satire of a ladette. An up-market Prada-inspired Bett Lynch whose loyalty is such that she would fight to the death for her friends. One thing’s for sure and it was clear today was that you wouldn’t want to mess with her.
âHey, BabyB, Iâve got a bone to pick with you. I hear your HeadofChambers has been bullying lovely little Liberty Belle. Is that right?â
âEr, well, I guess you could call it thatâŚâ I answered tentatively.
âWell, was it bullying or not. Come on BabyB, you know where the line is.â
âEr, well, I suppose it might have been,â I answered, starting to feel a little bullied myself. As if in response, Claire raised a sympathetic eyebrow as she caught my eye.
âGood stuff,â said MockingBird. âBecause Iâm thinking of paying him a little visit and Iâd like you to accompany me as a witness to what went on.â
Cripes. Thatâs certainly not what I would have chosen. On the other hand, I couldnât face having a fight with MockingBird, particularly as I was feeling a little tired and emotional after a little too much red wine and so I agreed.
June 21, 2010
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Tim Kevan ¡
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