Jury service continued; sick bunny

Non-stop excitement of being a juror continues. Following on from the last post: duly returned to court on Thursday, where we sat for two hours doing nothing before being sent home again. Returned for 10.30am on Friday, where the c. 20 of us were again led into the courtroom, and another 12 were chosen. Somewhat to my surprise – though the process is of course random – my name was called again. We went through the whole swearing-in malarkey again, followed again by judge’s talking to, before, most excitingly, things actually got going. The around 3 hours in total that we were in court on Friday were taken up with the prosecution lawyer giving us a quick crash course for dummies in the general topic of the trial, and then presenting a wad of evidence, which was a good deal more interesting than the general topic had led me to expect. I can, of course, say no more – but it’s probably safe to say that getting away with criminal activity must have been made a good deal more difficult with the advent of mobile phones, cell site technology and automatic number plate recognition.

We were asked to return for 1.45pm on Monday, which 11 out of the 12 of us did – most annoyingly, one juror failed to turn up or to respond to the court’s calls, with the result that the rest of us sat in the jurors’ lounge for two hours before being sent home. She did show up on Tuesday morning – I think the rest of us were hoping that she’d been given a good talking-to, which she may have been, though she appeared not noticeably chastened – though I can’t say I’ve actually heard her utter a word as yet so perhaps she’s taking refuge in silence. I probably shouldn’t mention her name, but her first name is Amber. Probably says it all – amazed she could even find the court building.

After Monday’s time-wasting we had a full (well, four and a half hour) day in the courtroom yesterday listening to five witnesses give their evidence and then be questioned by the defence. Really quite exciting, almost like on the telly – though none of the lawyers has yet leapt up and shouted ‘Objection!’. Also sat through the reading out of 50 pages of interview between the police and one of the defendants. Returned to court this morning where we watched some more CCTV footage and listened to a long statement from HMRC. Back tomorrow morning to hear another witness, I believe.

We've now been warned that the case could continue until some time during the week 4-8 March, so somewhat over the standard two weeks. The OU will only pay me for the first two weeks so now have to find out how to claim the loss of earnings allowance from the courts service.

Managing to use some of my spare time this last couple of weeks to crack on with typing up Mum's letters to Gran from Indonesia from 1978 to 1980. Current one opens with 'You must have been quite worried to hear of the volcano erupting'.

When I came out of the court on Friday afternoon there was a woman outside in the street having a good old eff and blind - a be-wigged and gowned barrister (her defence, presumably) was pleading with her to stop ranting in case a juror came out and heard her. Subsequently realised on perusing last week’s free rag that she was the wife in this case. Certainly she looked a hard-bitten piece of goods. The case sounds pretty tawdry but I was faintly amused at her choice of weaponry – a guitar and a tub of cocoa butter not perhaps being the most obvious things to assault your husband with. There were press outside the court all day on Friday so maybe she was shouting at them.

Had dinner at the Thai Corner on Saturday night to celebrate Claire’s birthday. I had a red curry with beef, which was enjoyable though on seeing the griddled seafood platter Ali had I wished I’d ordered that.

Breakfasted with Ray this morning at Julia’s Meadow. The lovely Mr Julia’s Meadow has a new, larger coffee cup in his repertoire. The coffee continues excellent.

It appears, sadly, that Lola may be ill. Ruth has been concerned for a couple of months about her slight weight loss and a seeming shift in the dominance relations ‘twixt the two bunnies – up until recently Lola has always been dominant (as is apparently the norm among rabbits) but lately this seems to have slipped a bit as she has been seen grooming Harley (previously hardly ever happened) and allowing him access to her cardboard box in the living room which is generally strictly her domain. Lola has also been pulling out the fur on her leg and stomach, and as she has now developed quite a bald patch we took her to the vet again on Friday. The vet didn’t seem to have any definite ideas but did take some blood, which we then had tested at some expense. It appears that her lymphocyte levels are high, which is likely to indicate cancer. We’ve been offered an ultrasound, which would confirm the diagnosis, but as that costs £200 we’re not sure whether we’ll go ahead with this, as the prognosis is unlikely to be good whatever action is taken. Have decided to monitor for the moment – currently she is still eating and seems reasonably alert and not withdrawn, but if that changes then more decisive action may be in order.

Harley does not appear to be responding with much compassion and has taken to aggressively chasing and mounting Lola. Have threatened to pair him with a Jack Russell if anything happens to Lola, but even that thought doesn’t appear to be subduing him. He has also put on quite a bit of weight, in direct contrast to Lola's weight loss. Here he is skulking in the bedroom today looking like a little fat squirrel.

Jury-related rant; religion in the legal process; surreal photos

Reported to Reading Crown Court at 9:00 am on Monday for my stint of jury service. Sat in the jurors’ lounge with about 60 other members of the public, being shown a DVD on ‘Your Role as a Juror’, followed by various other announcements about how to claim expenses etc. We also all had to fill out a form relating to a ‘long case’ starting this week, which could potentially run into a third week – supposedly the form was to weed out people who couldn’t commit to the third week, but actually it offered minimal get-out, being restricted to questions such as ‘Are you expecting to be admitted to hospital as an inpatient within the next three weeks’, etc.

After that, sat around for a few hours before my name was called along with around 20 others. We trooped out to the jury reception desk to be told we were being released for the day, but to return for 1.45pm on Tuesday. Duly did so, where our names were read out again and we were told we’d been assigned to the long case mentioned above. We were taken upstairs by the court clerk and asked to read through a list of names connected with the case and to say if we knew any of them – no one did (or at least no one was saying) so we were led into the courtroom, where we stood huddled nervously in a group and the court clerk shuffled cards with our names on, before reading out 12 names from the pack to step into the jury box. Mine turned up as one of the 12 – seem to be getting lucky with being randomly selected for things; shall expect a EuroMillions win quite soon. Those not selected trooped out, while the hallowed 12 were sworn in (more on that below) and then lectured by the judge about not discussing the case with friends and family, not looking it up on Google etc. Judge then announced that we would break for the day and reconvene for 11am on Wednesday. So we all trooped out again. Impressions so far of the legal process are that it works quite slowly.

In the event, when we returned for 11am today, there turned out to be a delay due to two of the selected jurors having filed notes with the judge that they could not commit to a third week of jury service. When we were eventually re-seated in the courtroom, the judge announced that given the stated circumstances he could not compel the two in question to serve, with the result that the whole jury would have to be disbanded and a new jury selected. Slightly incredulously, we left and filed back downstairs, several of us (me included) muttering tetchily. Sat in the jurors’ lounge for another hour or so, until a new list was read out to form a revised ‘jury in waiting’ for the long case. Hadn’t expected mine to be on it this time, but it was, along with most of those selected the previous time. Then told that again, we were being released for today, but to return for 1.30pm tomorrow. At this rate it’ll go into a fourth week, never mind a third.

Obviously I am not party to the intricacies of the legal process, but several of us were at a loss to understand why they could not have simply selected two replacements from the larger group of c. 20 that had been selected the previous day. Had assumed that was the point of it. How little I know.

Still may not actually end up serving on the case in question, as we won’t know until we go into the courtroom tomorrow which 12 of us will be selected to enter the jury box. Hey ho. Trying to adopt relaxed, philosophical attitude, but with limited success currently. Emailed boss with an update and a few comments on the frustratingness of the process; received cheery reply commiserating but noting that this week's DLHE audit had gone well, which failed to cheer me up as much as it perhaps should have done.

One thing that gave me pause, and that underlines the need for my continued support of the National Secular Society, was the way in which it is evidently still the default expectation that jurors will take an oath on the Bible. The twelve places in the jury box are each laid out with Bibles and a laminated copy of the accompanying oath. You have the right to choose to 'affirm', rather than to take an oath, but you have to tell the jury officer of your choice beforehand, and the court clerk then hands you a special card when it's your turn, along with saying to the judge 'This juror has chosen to affirm' (nothing is said re those who take the oath). True to my humanist principles, I did choose to affirm, as did two others (both young Asians), but the decision makes you stand out, whereas I briefly reflected that perhaps it should be those choosing to clutch a holy book in their sweaty palm who should stand out. Or, better, for a court of law to be entirely free of holy books, and for them to be confined to places of worship and bedside tables. Rant no. 2 over ...

On a less contentious note, Ruth and I met Ray and his friend Dave yesterday for a pleasant breakfast at the Alto Lounge. Ray and Dave had been to Celtic Manor for a couple of days' golf, along with a few others, but evidently the whole thing had been pretty rain-sodden - indeed Ray and Dave had evidently bailed on Sunday's golf and spent the afternoon in the hotel spa instead. Took these two decidedly peculiar pictures - the camera on my phone evidently decided to have a funny moment. They almost look quite artistic.

Tablets; vinyl; Hammer

We begin with the joyous news that bedroom 3 has now been plastered. As it’s now almost four years since the destruction work began, its gradual recovery is almost bringing a tear to my eye. Tasks remaining: painting; getting a blind for the window; replacing the light fitting with something new and cheap; replacing the carpet, again with something new and cheap. Ruth has been starting off her garden leave from HCT by sanding down the woodwork in the room with a cunning little electric sander that she purchased in Homebase the other weekend.

Another Information Office meal out on the 24th, this time at Strada in the Hub. The snow and ice seemed to have put some people off, as we turned out to be a group of half a dozen core enthusiasts. Had a pasta dish with chilli and some sort of sausage.

Put my day at the house with the plasterer on the 25th to good use by purchasing a Samsung Galaxy Tab 2, which I briefly attempted to justify as some sort of necessity, but it is in fact simply a delightful expensive toy. After checking availability at John Lewis and PC World, who were both sold out, I gave up and ordered one from Amazon, for next day delivery. It duly arrived, before 1pm as agreed, the following day. Pondered whether one of the reasons for the demise of the high street could be that Amazon kicks the pants off it.

Took my car for a long-overdue clean (inside and out) the other Sunday. Was once again duped by the head man at Nisi into paying extra for the £20 ‘gold service’, but I felt guilty at the level of griminess. He did indeed look slightly hacked off by the time I returned 25 minutes later to pay and collect the car. Given that the car will soon get dirty again given a) necessity of parking under tree at MK flat and b) impending visit to parents’, I took two pictures of it parked outside the house.

Made it to Alison’s house in Spencers Wood last Thursday to discuss Mitch Albom’s The Five People You Meet in Heaven. Alison had amassed some very organised thoughts about the book and had actually made some notes, unusually for our group which prefers to express itself in disorganised random outbursts amid slurping of cakes and wine. I hadn’t been greatly taken with the book – perhaps because of not setting much store by the idea of a comforting afterlife awaiting me – but several of the others appeared to have enjoyed it, except Helen, who, bless her, hates most things.

Drove down to my parents’ house on Friday morning after a brief congratulate/commiserate with Ruth on now being (hopefully temporarily) a woman of leisure. Arrived in time for lunch and spent some time in the afternoon with Dad on some family tree software from www.ancestry.co.uk, trying to figure out the best way to print out a chart of the Irish relatives, as Dad is hoping to get some of them to fill in some gaps. Also spent some time with Mum going through a large pile of vinyl that she had routed out of the sideboard. We listened to bits of a few records, including an old single of ‘This Here’ by the Cannonball Adderley Quintet, a first for me but evidently something Mum used to listen to. Here’s a recording on YouTube. Put all of the records on slightly nervously, not having manipulated a turntable in some years – the sound quality was pretty good though, despite a bit of crackling, which just gave them a nice air of authenticity.

We took advantage of some nice weather on Saturday by going for a walk near Cwmyoy, including scaling the Twyn y Gaer hillfort – summit cairn in pic above. Dad pointed out the ‘Cwmyoy slip’ – an old land-slip that resulted in the top part of a hill separating itself and coming to rest some way further down the hill. I had visions of it hurtling dramatically down the hillside burying innocent villagers, but Dad noted that it wouldn’t have moved quite that quickly. Local tradition, apparently, has it that it was caused by a terrible earthquake during Christ's crucifixion. After the walk we called in to the Queen’s Head Inn hoping to get lunch, but discovered that they weren’t serving any on account of the rugby – indeed, they were just switching the match on as we drained our drinks and left. We got lunch instead at The Crown at Longtown, who didn’t have the rugby on.

In the evenings we watched two more films from the substantial Hammer box set that my parents got for Christmas: on night 1, The Witches with Joan Fontaine – OK but I think I dozed off at crucial moments towards the end. On night 2 The Plague of the Zombies – much livelier and actually not bad. Mum emailed me on Monday to say that they had made it a triple on Sunday night with Prehistoric Women, which had apparently been as bad as the title suggested. I think I remember reading on the insert that they had made it in order to re-use the sets and costumes from One Million Years B.C.

Minor piece of drama on the drive back to Milton Keynes on Sunday when I pulled into Cherwell Valley service station intending to get a cup of tea and became aware of smoke billowing from under my car’s bonnet. Parked really quite quickly and turned the engine off; was then not quite sure whether one is supposed to open the bonnet, but had vague (and doubtless over-dramatic) concerns about having face burnt off by a sheet of flame, so called the AA instead. Evidently they had had an operative already in the car park, as an AA man and van appeared at my elbow practically as I was hanging up the phone. Turned out the cap had come off the oil reservoir with the result that pretty much the whole of the engine and the inside of the bonnet was coated in smoking oil. He wiped this off while chatting amiably about Radio 4 and audio books. I had topped up the oil in the week but couldn’t quite believe I had been absent-minded enough to leave the cap off, but the man reckoned that it must have been loose and popped off during the journey. He observed that he’d attended plenty of people who’d done much stupider things to their cars, which I think was supposed to offer me a nugget of comfort.