I had requested holiday over Christmas, to go to my home town, see this lady in question (and also my family, briefly). I was denied. I had asked for some time off in February, and was again denied. Tomorrow, however, I have finally been granted some small reprise from an otherwise slavish and servile subsistence in Dark Age Britain, or rather, Dickensian would be more fitting.
I have very little money (less than the dole, once you factor in a hundred bucks a week travelling to work costs). Yet I work six days a week. How can this be? It's Dark Age Britain, of course, not Renaissance Italy, evidently.
My "holiday" consists of wresting control of lady from her a well connected gangster fiancée, her probably hitting on me (knowing her), and if not separating the unhappy couple. It will not be a holiday. If anything, it will be drama, probably a violent messy break up. As such I have decided not to take little Ronulus Latrator ('Ronnie Barker'), nor a laptop, nor any books that cannot be replaced. I will be only taking one book (though I would like to bring several dozen). It will have to be quite a big book, in case I finish it, and wish to start another. I feel a book on my current studies would be most appropriate (litigation: criminal law). I am undecided between reading statutes, contextualisation of criminal law or finishing off a textbook on criminology. (I shall probably take the latter, seeing as I'm already a hundred or so pages into reading it already). It is a thoroughly boring work compared to anything classical studies related (for that is my actual specialism). Yet unless you're some nobby prick that never did a day's work in your life, classical studies, Latin, ancient Greek, are for poor people: beggars, slaves, criminals. This is not Renaissance Italy, evidently: it's Dark Age Britain.
The law (like some horrid hag of a partner that is charming enough to keep you interested, like a kind of female Socrates) is as repulsive as it is enticing. Wading through toxicology reports, forensic evidence (such as ballistics), and looking at photographic evidence of murder scenes and the like is stranger than any fiction, but is the nuts and bolts of learning to become a barrister (that and wading through statutes, torts, amendments and reading prior cases, some of which stretch quite far back into Great British history).
Of course, there is the question of me (1) getting a first, because in order to qualify (2) a suitable candidate must pass the required examinations set by the Council for Legal Education, pay his dues and be deemed suitable by the Benchers.
Without seeming to be too cocky, I should imagine that I may well be deemed suitable, because the Establishment know very well that if I am not permitted to do any job other than unskilled labour for minimum wage, I shall jolly go elsewhere where I can earn a decent living: come hell or high water.
Three degrees and still working in Domino's under a seventeen year old boss? I don't think so, somehow.
Max.
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