Docking with Alice

Alice in the dock

The support by Angus Council for the restoration of Angus Council is demonstrated by their invitation to me, yesterday, to attend a free tour of the wonderful high-Victorian 1871 Justice of the Peace Court in Forfar. It is, I have often considered, the finest building in Forfar, and how I have wished to view the interior.

Forfar Court

There may be positive signs that the legislature is a more enlightened body, as matters have been postponed until the court receives a copy of the medical consultant's letter detailing a diagnosis of severe trauma caused by attempting to deal with Angus Council. The Council had been ignoring letters from my GP.

My solicitor invited me to take a seat in the courtroom. "Where would you like me to sit?" I inquired. I was directed to a wooden box, containing three leatherette seats. I located myself on the central one purely from aesthetic considerations.

I had never been in a dock before, and the final scene in "Alice in Wonderland" came to mind, where Alice finds herself in the dock. I resisted the famous line "You're nothing but a pack of cards!", at which stage Alice's dream/nightmare disperses and the story concludes. I knew quoting Alice would have been an ineffectual line of defence in the real world. However, the insanity of the Council's actions are perfectly comparable to those of the Red Queen, so I would have been speaking the truth.

You're nothing but a pack of cards.

There was considerable joy observing the totality of the human condition in the general waiting room of the court, and I guess this is the other side of having to study dry legal tomes.

A legal counsel approached his client:

Counsel: "I have spoken to the prosecutor, and she says she will let it go."

Client: "Do you mean it's all over?"

Counsel: "Yes."

The client's body visibly jolted as the realisation occured. It was a visceral "in the body" release. The longterm stress had presumably lifted. 

Client: "You're the man!"

The client approached the counsel to give him one of those "matey" one arm hugs that are permissible within a certain male demographic. The client twisted his torso powefully and his arm swung.

The counsel stepped back rapidly to get out of the way: on his face a look of abject horror. The client's arm failed to make contact, in the void were the residual swirling tails of the counsel's black robes.

The counsel turned smartly on his heels, and left the room at great speed with his robes billowing behind him.

The lack of recognition of his client's joy was so powerful, that I felt obliged to shout across the room "That's really good news - many congratulations. I am not there yet.".

The client exited the front door of the court five seconds later obviously desperate to get away. In contrast, I need a sit down and a cup of tea after trauma or a good chat to the lovely woman police officer in the court building. :-)