CALLED TO THE BAR

Last night, an unusual amount of pomp and circumstance. I attended the Call to the Bar ceremony at Middle Temple. For my host, who was being called, it was a proud occasion. He has every right to feel proud after the outrageous slog to qualify. And he was duly called and signed his name in the register that has been kept for centuries on the Middle Temple's cupboard, made of a deck hatch from The Golden Hind.

Some impressions then.

What stuck out to me were the furrowed brows and intensity of the young men and women who had been Called. Their predominant concern - unemployment. Having taken first class academics, and massive amounts of sheer sweat and application to get to this point, they almost all face the prospect of .............. nothing. Pupillages will be given ultimately to less than 20% of them. The wastage rate is ridiculous.

Then there were the parents. Diffident. Congratulatory. But not joyous, not affectionate, not exuberant.

Some say that the very role of barrister is arcane. Maybe. But it can't be right to put so much talent through so many tests and challenges, only to waste it.

And those parents! Every step of restraint in the matter of love seems to me wasted, every moment of potentially joyous contact missed, again a waste.