Talking About The Weather
And other things
At 21 degrees I am happy. At 25 degrees I am uncomfortable, but functioning. Over 26 degrees and I am in system shut down.
My Met Office app tells me it will be 35 degrees today. If things continue on this trajectory (and they will) I may well become part of the upcoming climate migration. I suspect we all will. Perhaps Sweden? Lovely lake houses, pastries, flora and fauna.
I took the dogs up for a run around on the Common at 6:15am and it was already too hot (for me, they were fine. Poor Leo in his perpetual heavy jumper). A woman on the common pointed out that in the UK houses were designed and built to keep the heat in, which is not an original point but is true, and is the kind of uncontroversial small talk one can make while watching two dogs doing weird butt stuff.
It is now 8:30am and I am typing this while sitting naked on the sofa with a fairly ineffectual fan blasting away inches from my face. I have iced coffee on tap (God bless my Sage Bambino Plus) and if I keep my body very still I can just about keep my brain working.
You know the screen that appears on your iPhone when you leave it in the sun too long? If I move too much, that’s me. Just a blank screen and the words “iPhone needs to cool down before you can use it”.
There are some of you, incredibly, reading this in the US and Australia where such temperatures are common place. You must be rolling your eyes. Bear with me. Imagine your hot days, but in a country with no air con and where the buildings are designed and built to stay warm.
Imagine, specifically, being in a windowless court room in a black suit and black tights and trying to keep your brain working at full capacity while cross-examining a witness. And imagine that on the tube and the train you took to get to court, there is no air con.
This is one of those moments when I am so, so glad I am no longer in practice.
Another was on Sunday night. I idly wandered onto my LinkedIn, which I sometimes do out of morbid curiosity. Among the announcements of promotions and industry award results there was a post saying that my on-time colleague, Matthew, had died by suicide.
I didn’t know Matthew, although we were both members of the same chambers for a while. I knew of him. He had been a young star on the rise at the Family Bar, and had been the only person in an industry where superhuman, machine-like perfection is demanded, to write and speak openly about having mental health issues and how it impacted his practice.
We had been in court together once, but our only real interaction was an email exchange - one from me, one from him - as follows (redacted only slightly to remove personal, medical information and Matthew’s phone number!). I suddenly remembered it as I read tributes from people across the industry, remembering how supportive and kind Matthew had been to them.
14 August 2024
Dear Matthew,
Despite having been colleagues in chambers for some time now, our paths haven’t crossed in person and I’m sorry for that. I wanted to write an thank you for posting so openly about your practice, your mental health, and your experience of managing the two. I imagine it would be easy for you to overlook, but please know that it is hugely significant to have someone of your experience an reputation speaking out.
You may have gathered that I’ve been away from chambers for quite some time (18 months, in fact!). I guess my competitive streak is so severe that had to be the first of my cohort to be signed off with ‘burn out’. That came 18 months after I was first found to have what I now called the ‘Type-A Trifecta’ - depression, anxiety, and ADHD.
For the 18 months post-diagnosis and pre-signing off, I tried everything I could (with considerable support from my brilliant psychiatrist, psychologist, and - at one point - an ADHD coach) to do the job that I love in a sustainable way. I found it impossible. The system simply isn’t set up for people like me to do the work I want to do in the way I want to do it, which is to say, in a way that I can continue to meet my own very high professional standards while also getting enough sleep.
That you are so fearless in sharing your journey, and so hopeful about a better future at the Family Bar, is heroic. It gives hope to the rest of us. I long to be back at work, but I have no confidence in being able to sustain a practice without driving myself back into my psychiatrist’s office. I hope you figure it out - not only for yourself, but for the many others who are struggling.
So, thank you.
Best wishes
Lucy
19 August 2024
Lucy,
I’ve just seen this. It both made me feel sad for you but also very optimistic for you, and it warmed my heart that an online post might have made even a small difference to you.
You’re kind. Truth be told, I’m not the arrogant, swashbuckling young buck I was, and I doubt the Bar is for me in the future. But we will see. But somehow I’ve clung onto a decent reputation as a lawyer, and it gives me a bit of a platform to just tell it as it is. People tell me I’m too open. I don’t care. Like you, the people for whom this stuff matters find you. Naysayers can look elsewhere. The people who judge you would have done so anyway one day about something else…
More importantly - you are brave. Kudos. For reaching out like that shows you have some inner steel, even if it’s been a rough time. I suspect you’ll come back stronger, but you may find you’re a different person and have to be open to directions presenting to you. I have exactly the same Trifecta as you […]
Trust me - people will try to understand. But they cannot. The triad is incredibly hard to manage. BUT. Everything has an equal and opposite. So you may suffer with these. But you will be blessed with some wonderful skills others don’t have. Maths, or problem solving, or whatever. You’ll be blessed too. Learn to focus there. If others focus on your difficulties or shortcomings, f*ck them. Because they have not had to put in the same stint as you to get to your place.
[…] So I just try to be really grateful for what I do have, and not envy those who have what I do not. I can be proud whatever happens the rest of my life. And so can you. So be grateful, find joy, work out if you need to make changes to be happy, and know you’re not the only one pushing that bloody boulder up the hill. I wish you EVERY luck and my number is […] if you ever need to talk or WhatsApp. I fear your conclusion is right though. The modern bar isn’t set up for us now I think. But trust me there are brilliant jobs out there and people who would literally love to have you on board. So widen your horizons. (I think anyway!)
Also if you ever need to talk meds, therapy, coaching, etc, also here. Have tried most...!
Again - thank you for your bravery and the loveliness of your message. I’m here, okay.
Matt x
I don’t think Matt would mind me sharing this. In fact, I think he would want me to. As you can see, he wanted to be open about his struggles. He knew it would help others.
Matthew was 41 years old when he died. He had a very high IQ and had come from nothing to be a top Family Law barrister. Even though I knew him just barely, I am deeply grateful to him, and I am deeply saddened by his death.
Hearing the news about Matt I also felt - selfishly - vindicated in my decision to finally - once and for all - walk away. After all, what is it all for if one is not happy?
I also feel incredibly lucky to have walked out, and then through the garden gate. I am so fortunate to have found my way to happiness, to calm, to a life worth living. So, so fucking fortunate. And I found it in my garden.
Speaking of which, my garden is finally, finally starting to look right. I promised myself (and you) that I would be transparent about every step of the process, but there are only so many pictures of bare soil and paragraphs about how slow the bloody roses are being one can receive and enjoy.
I bravely went out this morning to take some pictures for you. The garden is as a whole still something of a disappointment, but it is gradually, gradually starting to fill out and bush-up in a very pleasing way. And amongst the still-disappointing areas there are moments of beauty that FILL me with joy.
When the weather has cooled I have sat outside for hours just watching - watching a bee take a nap in a foxglove flower, watching smugly as bees, butterflies and all manner of other insects (including the fucking lily beetles) busy themselves, moving from one side of the garden to the other (with the shade, of course) to study a different angle, and eavesdropping on my neighbours’ lengthy dinner party conversation about the cost of yacht maintenance. One diner said “They say the best day of your life is buying a boat, and the second best is the day you sell it. Because it’s such a nightmare.”
Perhaps you can picture my neighbours’ garden. It contains only two things: fence-to-fence artificial grass and an L-shaped sectional. Nothing is allowed to live there. The husband keeps the outdoor bins impeccably clean. They both jog. Needless to say, we live in a state of silent, mutual, throbbing disdain.
It is now 9:30am and it is 28 degrees. Send me your suggestions for things I can productively do while indoors, naked and attached to a fan.
Perhaps an Only Fans post?
Matt sounds like a good one. Such a shame they rarely get to stay as long as we’d like them to. I’m sorry for your loss, even if you hardly knew him, you connected deeply and that’s what it’s about, surely. That, and cake. And verbascums.
It’s too hot. Somehow, it’s hotter now than when it’s exactly this hot in July or August. I think it’s the goddam audacity of it. Adds an extra five to ten degrees.
Can’t believe I’m leaving you a comment while you’re en déshabillé. Godsake, woman, put a hat on.