.

Every time I attend an unfamiliar court I go through the motions when I sign in: I enunciate ‘Ms…Lucy…Reed…no it’s double E D…I’m counsel for the Respondent / Applicant…’ (it’s only four letters but 99% of people want to spell it Reid – my husband’s utterly unspellable name fortifies me against abandonment of both my principles and my surname for the sake of an easy life) and then I sigh as they write down ‘Miss Reed’. Even when the court staff don’t ignore what I say the judge inevitably does. As do most colleagues at the bar. I don’t even bother in my local court any more. Diversity training in the court service evidently covers the range of religious books upon which one might swear an oath, but not the respect for gender neutral nomenclature that one might wish to see from the machinery of justice.

.

And I am steeling myself for the inevitable day when I realise I look too old to be a Miss anymore, and will be forcibly promoted to a Mrs. Depressing, but at least then it will accurately reflect my marital status, even though it’s nobody’s business but mine (and my other half’s).

.

There seem to be very few women in my profession who do not describe themselves either as Miss or Mrs. Ms is not the done thing at the bar. It’s an awkward term, and for some I sense it marks the wearer out as a member of the awkward squad. Perhaps that’s a first impression which may be disadvantageous to the advocate trying to smooth her way into favour with the Judge? I don’t really think so – generally those who hold such views are quite capable of making assumptions about uppity women with or without the tag ‘Ms’ – but if it is the case, so be it. More fool anyone who prejudges an individual on such irrelevant trivia. In a profession where seniority is marked only by the starkness of ‘junior’ versus ‘silk’ and the gradual accrual of years of experience, for which a ready reckoner is the age of an advocate: titles matter. ‘Miss Reed’ is very junior and the term can be skillfully intoned (by Judge or opponent) to delicately undermine an advocate by connoting inexperience, just as ‘Mrs Reed’ can use her marital status to command authority (and particularly in family law to insinuate maternal experience or solid good sense). These nuances go unnoted by many, but they do exist and are and in play by way of both conscious manipulation and as a subconscious manifestation of gender or age based preconceptions. But if I’m to be prejudged I prefer it to be on my principles, not on my marital status: so Ms it is..

.

I know it’s difficult to remember – ‘Ms’. And I also know it’s an irritating sounding word, but I don’t have a better one that doesn’t divulge irrelevant information. We all get names and titles wrong (including  to our mutual mortification when I have, on more than one occasion when a newbie, called a female Judge ‘Sir’. This however was not so embarrassing as when a learning disabled client in an employment tribunal case I once did picked up on me addressing the Chair as ‘Madam’ and persistently referred to her throughout the hearing as ‘The Madam’ which has altogether less respectable connotations). So I don’t generally make a fuss (Unless someone is using ‘Miss’ in a particularly condescending ‘she doesn’t know what she’s talking about’ tone). I generally don’t want to point out that someone has been unintentionally inconsiderate or make a mountain out of a simple mistake. But it is annoying. Today I heard my opponent, a solicitor, gently correcting the usher ‘it’s Ms actually’. I sometimes do the same, but often make light of it to spare the blushes of the court staff who frankly have more important things to worry about. This article in the Guardian which I came across this evening says a lot I agree with (and has an astonishing 200+ comments, expressing a wide array of views on the issue – it is an emotive topic).

.

So no, I don’t stand on principle about my title. I don’t get all narky or insulted when people get it wrong (although I might occasionally write long rambly blog posts in order to relieve my moderate levels of frustration). And I have long since given up taking my wedding ring off during the working week and referring on principle to my ‘partner’ not my husband. There was a time when I was fearful that preconceptions about my personal life might adversely affect my career (that a wedding ring might be a sign of imminent pregnancy and a lack of commitment to my vocation), and although I no longer think it is either right or necessary to behave as if I am ashamed of my personal circumstances or my gender, I am also wise enough to know that my fear had some foundation - I have during my career heard astonishing remarks about why recruitment of women to the bar is best avoided, and this from senior members of the bar who should know better. But there are other ways of dealing with that. The answer is to surround oneself with good and clever people, to come out of the shadows, and to do what I do and to do it bloody well. And to quietly persist with getting my name known.

.

So…that’s Ms (NO ‘i’) Lucy (NO ‘i’) Reed (NO ‘i’). Write it down. There will be a test later.

The NSPCC is supporting the Bar Council and the Family Law Bar Association’s campaign to stop the Ministry of Justice’s proposals to cut family legal aid.

NSPCC lawyer Barbara Esam said: “The proposed, repeated cuts in legal support in family law cases comes at the worse possible time, as the pressure to improve child protection work is rightly higher than ever.

“These are precisely the specialists society needs if the courts are to be able to make the right decisions about when a child needs protection.

“The NSPCC’s work to protect vulnerable children and families relies on the ability to access a pool of specialist advocates at the family Bar.

“The NSPCC urges the Ministry of Justice to reconsider its plans to cut funding in these cases.”

In December the government unexpectedly revealed proposals to cut family legal aid in some cases by as much as 55%, having previously indicated that the cuts would be 13% to 14%.

As a result, in the event of the proposed legal aid cuts going ahead, over 80% of family barristers said they intend to change practices.

.

They tell you at bar school not to worry if you don’t make it to practise at the bar, that being a qualified barrister will equip you with numerous ‘key transferable skills’ useful in some ‘other’ life. Leaving aside for one moment the obvious self-serving nature of such a remark coming from an industry which charges outrageously over-inflated fees to far more students than can ever hope to succeed, what are my key skills and to where do they transfer on civvy street?

.

For one thing I’m a terrible people manager. I tried it once and oscillated from nice-but-ignored-by-cheerful-subordinates to shouty-and-ignored-by-sullen-subordinates. Far better to manage oneself, to be a self sufficient unit of one. Delegate nothing: control everything. So team work and staff management is out then.

I don’t like to be managed much either. I manage my own time, slope off early when I feel like it, skip lunch, work late choose the shape of my own day to fit my needs. I feel the weight of responsibility to get the work done on time and to a high standard but I achieve it by defining my own working pattern. Not  good at clocking on and off then. But a finisher, not a putter-off.

.

Bureaucracy and administration are anathema to us. So no local authorities or bodies heavily regulated by statutory form filling or budgetary constraint thank you very much.

.

Ah yes – I am fierce and determined and vocal on behalf of my clients. A most irritating work colleague no doubt who everyone wishes would shut up. If forced into an office environment I would almost certainly within weeks be campaigning for better coffee machines or about the inconvenient location of the water dispenser, a trade union rep or general agitator.

.

But what about that ability and willingness to take on the task no matter how repellant the client or the cause is? That moral abdication that lawyers are so famed for? That MUST equip me for something surely? Perhaps I would be good in a call centre barking self righteously and without sympathy at the customer about some point of contention, a fearless advocate of my employer’s rigid and incomprehensible company policy – a sort of articulate and utterly impenetrable ‘computer says no’ lady. But I fear that call centre staff do not universally make good advocates and perhaps the reverse is also true (I do not think I can add anything further to my submissions on behalf of [insert name of corporate entity here] your customership). Or else as a bailiff, in brave and dogged pursuit of funds rightfully owing (too puny and sluggish I fear and frankly too chicken).

.

What’s more I don’t think of myself as amoral, I think many of us (geeklawyer excepted obviously) are passionate  and profoundly moral. About justice and the justice system we are a part of. Yes it’s that old hat you put on your OLPAS form about wanting to help alleviate injustice, to give something back, give a voice to the silenced etc etc. But it’s true and it is that (fortified by the cab rank rule) which enables us to ignore the apparent repugnance of a particular client or get past the moral ‘wrongness’ of a particularly nasty argument we are asked to make – the belief in the system and the small part played in a mechanism for overall good (even if sometimes we feel that the system is not in perfect working order). And it’s hard to get passionate about your profit driven, target crazed boss (although getting passionate with them is one way to the top so I’m told).

.

In fact we are unique in being used to having a frequent outlet to vent our opinions (a mark of a good advocate is that he identifies with the client whilst being able to also identify the weaknesses in his position) or at least an opinion, yet we can also hide behind the cloak of our instructions or pass the buck of responsibility to the judge or the client. It is liberating  to say unpleasant things without consequence. We get to spout off a lot but it is always someone else who takes responsibility for our words - my client or yours (unless you say something way off mark and get sacked, struck off, imprisoned etc!). Is this therapeutic; does this make us well adjusted or would we cease to function in a socially acceptable way if relieved of this release valve for all our hot air? Perhaps we are all just would be manic or angry people, kept normal by a daily release of spleen through advocacy?

.

I’ve heard barristers often described as dysfunctional or autistic – a tag which is scientifically inaccurate (and probably insulting to autistic people) but which is an indicator I think of the fact that we are a group of brainiacs with social deficiencies and low emotional intelligence or empathy. I think the extremes are less apparent for family lawyers, if you don’t have some degree of emotional intelligence you can’t be an effective advocate for often emotional issues, but the general point is a good one. We work anti-social hours, neglect our families, have to close off or heavily manage our own emotions in order to remain objective enough to do a good job for the client, and we irritate the hell out of our partners and families by quoting the law, making points of principal or pointing out inconsistencies in our spouses arguments during tiffs. We correct the spelling and grammar mistakes on the anniversary card from our spouses for chrissakes. We are ornery and stubborn and pernickety and generally impossible to live with. We also number rather too many alcoholics, drug addicts and philanderers to be entirely wholesome, but I’m not admitting to any such vices myself. However, that notwithstanding if I’m honest – I wouldn’t employ me. And I wouldn’t marry me either.

.

People skills. That’s it. We have people skills. We soothe and manipulate (sorry gently guide) our clients towards a sensible path, we advise them in a way that is not too hard emotionally to manage. We sympathise with their upset and where necessary sit firmly upon them to minimise the inevitable heartache which will be caused by continuing adherence to a ridiculous position that is doomed to failure. We gently probe with a mix of direct questions and insignificant chit chat to tease out the information we need to make our case. Perhaps an interrogator for MI5? Or a relate counsellor (did I suggest that in the same breath?). Perhaps not, I think too often we would see the writing on the wall and gush: You (to the wife): he’s a bastard, he won’t change. Move on. You (to the husband): you idiot. you really messed it up. What did you expect? Released from the bind of one sole client and opposing positions I might just tell it to them rather too straight.

.

And as I look back over this list of our most compelling characteristics as a profession I am drawn to the inevitable conclusion that there are only two alternative choices of career should push finally come to shove: taxi driver or judge. Perhaps for everybody’s sake I should stay where I am.

.

In Short – see my comments on episode 1, episode 2 and episode 3: more of the same. The final episode can be summarised thus: more shots of people being called to the bar in oak panelled rooms, plus (just incase you’d missed the point being delicately made in episodes 1, 2 and 3) the addition of gratuitous shots of  tourists looking impressed at Temple Church in order to demonstrate how ancient yet interesting we barristers are (shamelessly borrowing pop-kudos from the be-corduroyed Da Vinci Code). Some interesting footage of criminal practice (very interesting actually but there are a few of us that do other things). Oh, and a demonstration of how needlessly unpleasant tenancy application processes can be – poor Kakoly Pande. Glad she got in – clearly a determined and plucky individual which are important attributes at the bar - but I think I’d have almost felt like telling them where to stick their tenancy after that sadistic experience.

.

A law is a rule that everyone has to follow. It tells people what they should do and what they can and can’t do. If people can’t agree about something a judge uses the law to tell them who is right and what should happen, and then they have to do what the judge has said. A judge works in a court. When people ask the judge to help them sort out something they can’t agree about it’s called a court case.

.

In court cases each person has a lawyer. The lawyer’s job is to tell the Judge what that person says has happened and what they say should happen now, and to help that person and the Judge understand what the law says (this is called representing someone). When the Judge has heard what all the lawyers have to say she decides what should happen.

.

When mums and dads can’t live together any more sometimes they can’t agree who the children should live with or what should happen about money. A Judge can help them make a decision about what is best for the child, who should live where and what to do about money. I help mums or dads explain to the judge what they think is best for their kids so the Judge knows as much as possible before deciding what should happen. Sometimes my job is to tell the court what the child thinks should happen or what the child’s Guardian thinks is best for the child (a Guardian is someone who tells the court things from the child’s point of view). Because the lawyers know what the law says they can also help tell the person they represent what decision the court might make and can help them to try and agree with the other people what should happen instead of leaving it up to the Judge. Its nicer if everybody can agree after all because when the Judge has to decide for them one person is probably going to be sad. The Judge will try and make a decision that makes everyone happy but their most important job is to do what is best for the child, even if its not what the mum or dad want. Together the lawyers help the judge make a fair decision by making sure that the Judge has heard everything that each person wants to say and has understood why they are saying it.

.

It is one of the major frustrations of this job that no matter how organised you are with your time, and no matter how much you plan and prepare (or plan to prepare) you always end up with moments like this afternoon, followed by much frantic reading and sticky noting of large amounts of late-arriving papers and court bundles. It is always the way – yes, I can manage to prepare all my work for this week in good time and without resorting to midnight reading marathons if (BIG IF) my papers arrive as promised on Monday. And of course they don’t. Hard as it is, especially when there are pressing things back at home that you could be getting on with if you weren’t stuck doing not a lot at work, it’s the way of the world and we have to live with it…

.

Besides, I know I should treasure these rare moments when I actually genuinely have nothing to do. It has given me time to catch up with a few other bits of information and read the latest family blawg posts. Good to see Jacqui G is back (Hi Jacqui). She posts about how lovely her clients have been lately – that has a real resonance for me, having only just got back on my feet in a completely new area. Its been only two weeks and perhaps I have come back with an overdose of positivity but everyone here in the West Country has also been truly lovely: from the opponent who lent me a tenner when I ordered coffee without any money, to the colleague in chambers who took me around and introduced me to all my oppos at court, to the opponent who took me back to chambers and booked me a conference room so I didn’t have to express breastmilk in the disabled loo in Bristol County Court, to the young mum who gave me a heartfelt ‘thanks’ (it doesn’t happen so often) after a really long day at court contesting an application for an interim care order, and the solicitor who emailed to say she was pleased with my work, to the courteous, patient and sensitive judges who I have encountered, and the court staff who let me hog the disabled loo all lunch break with my breast pump and then kept my milk in the fridge with their sandwiches all afternoon. Thanks for making it all so much easier.

.

Loveliest of all though is the baby and hubby I will go back to – just as soon as these wretched papers arrive!!

.

Commenting on the consultation, Lucy Theis QC, Chair of the Family Law Bar Association, said: 

.

‘The protection of children is a concern to all of us. A robust legal aid system is vital to prevent damage to children – who are among the most vulnerable members of our society.  There is often no second chance when children are at risk of harm. 

.

‘As Mr Justice Ryder stated this week, we are “at a crossroads in family justice”.  The publicly-funded family bar has prided itself on giving those with no voice the representation they need – yet the LSC seems determined to place the family justice system under yet more pressure.  

.

‘We have a duty to protect the vulnerable; removing a child from its natural parents has rightly been described as one of the most draconian orders a court can make. The proposed severe cuts in funding for family barristers will deny those going through our court system the expertise they have the right to expect. These are the very people with most to lose and the very people for which legal aid was originally devised to protect.  The LSC risks undermining the system which they have the duty to administer. 

.

The Bar Council’s recently published Discussion Paper on Legal Aid addresses these issues in a coherent way, which we hope will prompt sensible debate on this crucial issue. 

.

‘The proposed cuts will make it financially unsustainable for experienced family barristers to continue to do this work and this important area of the law will fail to attract talented new entrants. This haemorrhage of talent and experience will be at the expense of the most vulnerable in society. This haemorrhage will be made worse if the Government seeks to implement ill-conceived plans to drive costs down further by the introduction of a single fee and competitive tendering.’

.

I’ve been on maternity leave since more or less the start of March, so now my first court date is looming I am getting a little concerned at how I will slot back into the suited world. Will I remember to take the raggy off my shoulder before going into court? Will I have sick down my skirt? Will I do inane baby talk to the cute likkle ‘judgy-wudgy’? Will my breast pump start vibrating in the middle of submissions when I kick it under the desk with my foot? Will my oh-ever-so-tight pre-baby-sized suit rip loudly as I stand to make my closing submissions? Will I be able to draw my attention away from the washing of nappies to concentrate on the taskat hand? Will I fall off my heels on the way out to lunch, having worn nothing but sandals, slippers and trainers for 3 months? Lets face it – will I be able to string together a coherent sentence?

.

In reality it will be fine – after all I’ve been doing the job for a lot longer than I haven’t. But I have no doubt at all it will be very wierd. Now I’ve got to go and burp a little alien…