The days are the same you know...

I shouldn't remind myself of anniversaries, it makes me maudlin, and subject to excessive amounts of introspection. And I think about things too deeply anyway - "Think less, Do more" should be my mantra. But then wouldn't I be doing something to distract me from the actual things I should be doing? Anyway, I digress (you see!)....

Ten years ago today I signed The Training Contract for my real, proper job. I'm a totally serious professional for around eight hours a day, five days a week - it's why I can come across as a complete nut-job in my various refuges on the internet - it's a venting and coping mechanism. And those serious, professional, service-focused hours come about because of a chain of events which were set in motion more than ten years ago, but which reached a point where success was virtually guaranteed on this day, in 2003.

The training contract was, as I gather it has always been, and continues to be, a waiting game. As long as you didn't mess up too horrendously, you were going to get to the magic, "final" goal of qualification.  You were going to qualify - and you knew exactly when. For me that anniversary is around two weeks away - let's just say that the admittance rules are "weird" and leave it at that.

Except of course that it isn't the final goal at all - you bang that one in the back of the net and find that there are a whole load more goals lined up behind that one: - the first post-qualified position; the step up to "Associate"; the jump up to "salaried partner"; the Holy Grail of "Equity partner"; the hallowed turf of "Senior Partner" - and it doesn't end there, now that solicitors can and do become judges - it's a never ending greasy ladder, which narrows the higher up it you get, and which becomes ever more precarious each year you cling on to the rungs.

Ten years ago today I walked into the office of a small but lovely law firm in West London, introduced myself to the receptionist, and was shown to my office. It was the first time I'd ever had an office of my own, and I was scared, nervous and excited all at once. I loved the Training Contract years - possibly at least partially a fluke of the firm I was at: - we had conferences in Lincoln's Inn on a weekly basis; I've appeared in virtually every County Court in West London; and at least two different Employment Tribunals; I've held people's hands as specialist Family Judges have delivered utterly unexpected decisions in divorce cases; and on one memorable occasion I've played "guess the amount of damages" with a Barrister and his Pupil (That same barrister owns a DeLorean. Yes, like from "Back to the Future" - the trainee the year after me got a lift in it one day - the grin on her face went from ear to ear!).

I loved the two years I got to live in London, and I was just getting to really establish a social life at the point when it all came grinding to a halt - my landlord epically messed up, and I had to spend the last six and a half weeks sleeping in my mate's kid's room, commuting in from St Albans round the M25 every morning - it was hell on earth and I completely understand why people hate it. And it killed the dream for me. I was going anyway, I wanted a house and the London housing bubble was just about at it's peak - you could pay a Hundred Grand for a studio flat, which I wouldn't have been able to do anyway, and that wasn't what I wanted.

I wonder now, if I had stayed, where I would be in my career? Would I have made partner sooner? Would I have made partner at all? Would I still be at the firm I trained at, or would I have moved on? Would I ever have been able to buy a house in London, or would I be one of the hundreds of thousands of commuters crowding onto packed trains each morning, or one of the millions of Londoners who rent property they will never be able to consider buying even a share in?

I guess much of this post won't make sense - I have made it to ten years - a very, very good achievement (yes, especially for a girl), but the profession is changing, the only certain thing is uncertainty itself, and I find myself wondering what my back up plan might be, if it all goes wrong. Perhaps that introspection is not such a bad idea after all....

Aerial Hoop

I recently made a new friend - a girl called "Del", and she's into Aerial Hoop. If you don't know what that is, it's hanging off a big metal hoop that's suspended from a convenient ceiling, and contorting yourself into various poses in what is hopefully a pleasing and acrobatic manner. It's sort of gymnastics in the air, with a soupçon of trapeze thrown in for good measure. Oh yeah, the hoop swings, and also potentially spins, depending on how it's hung.

Always keen to try a new form of exercise which won't bore me to tears, I went along today to a taster session run by Cloud Aerial in Manchester. The venue today was in the back half of "Wobbleyou" a fitness studio on the edge of the ridiculously hip Northern Quarter. There were three hoops, hung in different ways and at slightly different heights (it'll become important) and a couple of poles, as this was a mixed taster session. I had a little go on the pole whilst I was there - it's very slippy and nowhere near as easy as it looks.

But onto the hoop. Or not, in my case. In two hours of huffing and puffing I managed to get my legs over the thing, and towards the end I was building  up enough confidence to let go with either one leg or one arm, and managed to achieve "Candlestick" (both legs and one arm on the hoop) and half a "Delilah" (I got my leg dangling off the hoop, but didn't have the confidence to release an arm as well). I'd like to add - I only managed this on the lowest hung hoop, I couldn't even get my leg onto the higher hung ones.

What we've discovered from this (as if I didn't know already) is that I have absolutely awful, almost non-existent, upper-body strength. This is not at all a surprise, but it is a disappointment - I used to have fair upper-body strength - my job used to involve lifting quite a lot of heavy equipment, and I used to be good at it. All that is long gone, and now it appears I have the flexibility and strength of a wet week old kitten.

But I had a great time today, and if you're thinking of having a go, then I heartily recommend it. I'll be going back, and in the meantime, I'll be doing everything I can to build up my upper-body strength, and my core muscles, and my aim next time will be the same as today - to get on and off the hoop, unaided, and without hurting myself - but next time, I will succeed!