Down under, but not out

'I can't possibly go, it is much too soon. I can't. I can't. Anyway, we can't afford it.' This to my wife who wanted so much to see her doctor daughter in Australia after a six-month separation. Her to me (still in a state of turmoil after losing my job): 'But you must. You've not had a proper holiday for well over a year and if you don't come I will go alone.'

So, among all the other pressures that have piled up like so much manure produced by a flock (or whatever the noun of aggregation for equines is) of horses, I agreed, regretted it and back-tracked'¦ then caved in and agreed again.

A change in circumstances

Before Christmas I told the story of my abrupt fall from grace from being a once-secure partner in a firm of solicitors to joining the burgeoning ranks of unemployed solicitors (see 'All Change Please', Solicitors Journal 152/45, 25 November 2008).

So here is instalment two. After fulminating for many days and feeling angry and extremely sorry for myself I realised that at my time in life I might not be the most appealing candidate for job interviews (if I were to get that far), but more to the point that I could really do without partners breathing words down my neck like 'targets', 'under-performance' and 'parasite'. In fairness they did not use the last '“ but it felt like it.

Going it alone has real drawbacks '“ not least the almost prohibitive cost of indemnity insurance and the fact that sole practitioners are treated in some quarters as being the legal equivalent of a bad smell. But there was another possibility. Call it a virtual solicitors' office or a sole practitioner's dream, but the reality is that there are firms springing up that challenge the old idea of chaining fee-earners to desks, targets and time recording. One such firm is the one I have joined (look it up for yourself: Scomo.com) which provides no-frills premises plus infrastructure, insurance and compliance mechanisms to enable those who would be happy never to be a partner in a firm again not to be.

Lands End to Lanzarote

So how does it work? You join the firm as a self-employed consultant. The support services are provided in return for the firm receiving a percentage (usually 30 per cent) of your fees when they are paid. Whether you live in Lands End, Llandudno or Lanzarote, all communications are to and from the firm's office in London. This causes no delay because all incoming post is scanned and emailed to fee-earners on the same day.

Fee-earners join 'units' for the purpose of training and supervision, with regular meetings to discuss marketing, strategy and problems.

If you have no clients you will be waiting for a very long time for any income. Consider doing a deal with your firm that enables you not only to take your cases but also your work in progress (after all your former partners probably said to you that the cases you so cherished were not worth a hill of beans '“ so offer them a small hill of beans to take them off their hands).

The future's another country

You still have to find a way of staving off bankruptcy while you wait for cases to arrive then finish, and that means setting up business finance. Not a problem, you might think. After all, had not your bank and every credit card company you ever dealt with tumbled over themselves to lend you thousands? Yes they may have done, but that was before you lost your job and the recession kicked in '“ the past was the past and the future is another country.

My first effort at a business plan failed: the computer said 'no'. Banks want cash flow forecasts and lots of information about how you will eventually earn money. They do not know about conditional fee agreements and the costs rules. I had to prepare a complete DIY kit on personal injury cases so as to educate the bank into differentiating between me and the man who wants to set up a business breeding and selling alpacas. Eventually, extremely reluctantly, the computer said 'yes', but not before it demanded a first charge on my property, my wife's bees, my fire engine and my mother-in-law.

Then you have to run your cases '“ from home. Many of us have worked from home from time to time, but this usually means bringing a bulging briefcase home on a Friday, feeling guilty all weekend for not doing the work and, at about 11pm on Sunday, doing an hour's frantic dictation.

But what if it is not a bulging briefcase but a carload of files, and there is no secretary to type, file, put in envelopes, soothe the clients and you? (For my suggestions as to what to do next, see the box below).

Back to the present, and as you will guess she (and if I were borrowing from the late John Mortimer and his Rumpole character I would add 'who must be obeyed') prevailed. Some things however do not change. I was nowhere near ready to leave by the time we were nearly an hour past our chosen time to leave for the airport. As I ran out of the door with my hastily packed suitcase, I was still stuffing letters into envelopes and putting the finishing touches to letters that I hoped would cause my opposite numbers to go weak at the knees.

And now I am sitting with my laptop in Federation Square in Melbourne with the late Australian summer sun filling with warmth the unaccustomed crevices in my pale skin, and I am thinking that I am after all glad I came.

But wait, an email has just flashed up on my screen '“ a letter from some defendants: 'Dear Sirs, Upon receipt of your letter we went weak at the knees and we admit liability.'

Sorry folks '“ must dash. Work calls.