Its Friday. But not the typical newsday Friday. Today we made our way to Nottingham's Crown Court to practice our shorthand while various yobs and chavs pleaded guilty or defended their innocence.
I'm not going to elaborate - I still don't trust my understanding of media law enough to definitely avoid contempt of court. Next thing you know I'll be writing out my own sentencing in shorthand while I stand in front of the Queens Bench...
I admit, I am an amateur. Indeed, this was my first visit to the courts - to any court - ever. There was an uncanny juxtaposition in the behaviours of the regulars at the bar: the judges, the solicitors, the reporters, and recorders - and the public in attendance. While there was a somewhat disciplined formality in the tone among the professionals, the lay persons were all quite raucous and seemed oblivious to any general conventions in conduct of the courtroom.
The attempt at orderly conduct lead to a sort of forced disorder. Confused friends and family wandered in and out of courtrooms. Doors banged shut while people tried to close them softly. Whispers were augmented within an attempt at silence.
But the greatest disorder was on my own piece of note paper. There, scribbled in illegible symbol, was my shorthanded court report.
