Kindness

For the most part I avoid blogging about work but some of you will know that I am a barrister specialising in Employment Law. One thing barristers learn quickly is the power wielded by the ushers. The essence of an usher’s job is to call the parties into court and settle them down so that when the judge makes his or her grand entrance everyone is silent and rapt. Where there is more than one case to be heard, being on the right side of the usher can result in your matter being promoted up the list and ensuring you are done by lunchtime rather than sat disconsolately in a waiting room for 5 hours with a fidgety client.

My favourite usher was Len. He worked in the President’s Court in the Employment Appeal Tribunal. Len was somehow always pleased to see you. His welcome was extended just as warmly to first-timers as to old-timers and he was as respectful to those representing themselves as to the most self-important of Silks. He had a calm and an easiness about him that allowed you momentarily to forget the stressfulness of the situation. He made sure that you got an early warning if the Judge was fractious and, if there was time, would pause to tease you about your football allegiance.

You will have guessed from the tense that Len has died. Today, at 10:30 in the President’s Court, we gathered to pay our respects. On the dais, below the Royal Seal, sat the judges. In the well of the court were his colleagues and large group of barristers all of whom had had reason at some point to be thankful to Len. There was, as you might expect, much eloquence deployed in praise of him. Every elegiac compliment was deserved. There were grand people present; people who have consciously developed their careers and reputations and have craved such glory as the Law allows. Len did a job for over 10 years that involved no glory, but by being constant in his kindness and spendthrift in his consideration for others he filled a room with people who will miss him terribly and whose affection and respect he will have as long as memory persists.

The Tap

Whilst we were in Singapore, lovely friends took us to see Keane whose earnest sixth-form blandness did not entirely distract me from my concern about whether the immodium was going to last through to the end of their fourth encore.

For me, the highlight came before Keane had even arrived on stage. A French band, whose name I did not catch, but whose lyrics included the oddly familiar: “Who do you think you are? Some kind of superstar?”, chugged to the end of their set leaving time enough for the dangly-haired lead singer to rap with us.

“Thanks to the HARD RAWWWK CAFE for all they have done for us! Yeah! We are doing a show tomorrow for CHARITY. Thank you thank you! It is for the … er …. er …. something money fund … er … well I know it’s for the kids!”

This set a benchmark for contrived sincerity that Keane strove to top:

Keane: “I wrote this next song because it reflects my belief that we should always look for the good in humanity. And do you know what? When I look out tonight, I see really good humanity”.

Anonymous Blogger in crowd: “You suck!”