Memory lane

I recently caught myself saying into a digital dictation microphone my standard phrase with which I have for years now wrapped up my recordings as a clear sign off: 'Thanks that's the end of that tape.' Tape. Tape? What even is one of those? I vaguely recall the days of handing physical files to secretaries with a tiny tape in its little clip-on holder attached to the front of them. The tapes were easily mislaid, quickly wiped/recorded over in error and have thankfully now been consigned to history in favour of digital files.

One thing I'm not quite old enough to remember seeing in legal practice (no offence is intended if you are) is typewriters. My dad had one at home on which he used to bash out work-related letters at weekends on the dining table. It had its own little case and weighted about a tonne. I had forgotten all about it and its genre until my six-year-old daughter encountered the word in her school reading book this week. She sounded it out and got its pronunciation right with no problem, but then shot me a quizzical look and asked what it meant. My first thought was that it means the school needs to invest in some up-to-date reading schemes.

Other events that have caused me to delve into the memory banks were my two trips to see Peter Kay's 'The Tour that doesn't Tour '“ Tour' in Manchester this month. It must sound hugely keen to say that I went twice in eight days, but it was a bizarre turn of events as I bought my own tickets after much hype through the usual frenetic 9am release on a particular date almost two years ago. Then on moving to join Kennedys in September I was informed that the firm had taken a box at the MEN arena for one of the tour nights and was invited along to assist with hosting the numerous clients. It was certainly one of the more enjoyable client entertainment bashes I've been to and it was well received. It was, however, a little disappointing to learn that Peter Kay's routine was 99 per cent scripted. Of course I had expected much of it to be '“ it would surely be almost impossible to freestyle your way through that many two-hour long back-to-back nights of comedy, but some lines that had seemed impromptu because of his natural delivery on the first outing were revealed as in fact fully rehearsed second time around.

I did, however, really enjoy both evenings. I know that as with most comedians not everyone likes him, and indeed his humour is so northern English that much of it could be lost on people who spent their childhood elsewhere. What I hadn't fully appreciated until now though was that he also appeals very much to people of a certain age '“ my age in fact, as I was born later in the same year as the man himself. I realised this on seeing no reaction from the younger lawyers and clients to his childhood bath-time references such as the searing pain experienced if Vosene shampoo went in your eyes, and the days when Imperial Leather soap was considered posh.

Old-fashioned litigation

I have also seen some old-style litigation at work in the past weeks, with mediation suggestions being resisted and confrontational solicitors squaring up and facing off against each other to impress their watching clients in a without prejudice meeting. This is not, in my humble opinion, usually very constructive. I understand that certain clients expect (and probably enjoy) the spectacle '“ they believe that they are getting their money's worth from their pet lawyer as their point of view is set out and then repeated over and over in the hope that bashing one's opponent over the head with the exact same point will eventually wear them down to writing out a large cheque, or giving up on pursuing the claim, depending on which side of the fence you hail from. But it doesn't work, especially not if the other solicitor has also brought their client along. Indeed if unchecked I believe that such meetings can cause the parties to become yet further entrenched.

Once we had allowed the various cross parties a little licence to vent and diffused most of the tension, the comedic displays of defensive body language disappeared and some genuine progress was made in terms of narrowing the issues, to use another rather old-fashioned and lawyerly phrase. The claimant's expectations reduced significantly, lessening the gulf between the parties to a few hundred thousand pounds rather than bordering on a cool million. But without a mediator there to offer a truly independent viewpoint and put a neutral's spin on things, the claimant's solicitor had too high a mountain to climb to meet the defendants in anything approaching settlement territory. Let's hope they agree to schedule a mediation sometime soon or we'll be at trial before we know it.

I will this month endeavour to settle on a new concluding phrase for my dictations '“ maybe 'that's the end of that sound bite' would be hip enough?