Silver Barrister

 

Its Monday, and I am returning from two and a half months away from practice as a barrister. The case I am assigned to cover  is listed ‘not-before-11.30’ at Newcastle Family Court before a district judge. A colleague in chambers is for the applicant local authority, so I know it is in good hands.

It feels disconcerting to arrive in chambers after a long break. Annie looks up from reception to buzz me in, and greets me with a smile. “Hello Mr Twist, how was the trip?” “Fine, Annie, but it does seem strange to be back”.

Yes, it does feel very strange. It reminds me of the first day at school after a summer break. The smell of the building – a combination of coffee and hot paper on the scanner; the sounds of articulate voices drifting in corridors; light slanting through the dust.

The problem is that my colleagues have been beavering away during my recess – finding places to park or taking trains to court; bumping their wheeled cases along pavements; emptying their pockets at security; meeting solicitors and clients; and advocating before judges and juries. Whilst that film has been running, I have not been watching, or even present. The world has moved on a little, and I have remained still.

This mood lasts but an hour before momentum drives it to the back of my mind, and I question if I have ever been away. The meeting of advocates sees tight-scripted positions coalesce into agreement; the judge smiles and approves our efforts, signing the order with a few kind words. And the day becomes just another day in the life of a busy barrister.

But, as you would expect with this blog, there is an unresolved issue – not with the case – but with me. Advancing to the end of professional life, I ask myself about me; my longevity at the Bar, and what lies ahead. My colleagues become younger as I age. My conversation is on the differences of the past rather than the opportunities of the future.

Today I rise early to complete my attendance note for yesterday’s hearing. BBC Radio 4 burbles in the background. ‘The Life Scientific’s Adrian Thomas explains to Jim Khalili about ‘silver engineers’. And with those words suddenly all becomes clear.

When it comes to retirement, as a species we waste considerable resources, experience and skills. In another blog I addressed the question of preparing for retirement. Here I propose to extend those ideas into the new concept of the ‘silver barrister’.

Like the ‘silver engineer’, the ‘silver barrister’ is one who for whatever reason has decided to retire from active practice, but who still possesses the energy and capacity to contribute professionally. This contribution may be in relation to mentoring, supportive training, assisting or managing complaints and grievance processes, preparing legal digests, library management, or helping the chambers’ head and executive with a plethora of tasks. The ‘silver barrister’ provides a safe, available and sufficiently independent pair of hands – backed up with a professional lifetime of experience.

As a trained facilitator, I ask myself about the ‘balance of reward’ from such an arrangement? So here I list what I consider to be the essential characteristics of the role:

  • The status and role of ‘silver barrister’ is to be confirmed and defined by the Bar Council.
  • Silver barristers will be invited/elected by their chambers for continued membership for a renewable twelve month term.
  • They will not have rights of audience or independent advisory status as barristers, and so be exempt from professional indemnity insurance requirement, and professional competence regulation. Their chambers will pay a nominal annual Bar registration fee.
  • Their status as non-practicing consultants must be declared clearly on all professional communications.
  • They will not be entitled to remuneration for their role as silver barrister, but may be remunerated by a practicing barrister for advisory/preparatory work undertaken for that barrister.
  • Individual chambers may decide with regard to internal arrangements, such as voting and chambers fees and charges.

As pressures on chambers administration – and the potential contribution from retiring seniors increase, why not look at that symbiosis to match needs and resources? This may be the ideal solution for our profession – for both young and old alike.

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Control your car legally – the advent of the digital vehicle

 

Others will write about Barcelona and Cambrils – recalling Paris and London. They may address urban terrorism that has reached Turku, and even comment on Herat mosque, Lahore, Lake Chad, Abyan, Kirkuk, Bajaur, Quetta, Burkina Faso, Kunduz, and Konduga. August 2017 saw 113 global terrorist events, involving 494 innocent deaths.

Academic analysis would reveal the number of terrorist incidents involving motor vehicles used for travel to – and escape from, as well as perpetrate terrorism. Today’s radio conversation is about ‘hiring vans to terrorists’. And tomorrow?

Road traffic deaths in the UK for the year ending March 2016 were 1,780, with 24,610 people killed or seriously injured, and 187,050 casualties of all severity. Cyclist’s deaths comprise 100 in the same year, whilst serious injuries amount to 3,239 and lesser injuries 15,505. Motor traffic levels rose in that year by 1.8%.

I think you see where I am going. Now don’t get me wrong: I like vehicles. I have owned and driven many kinds over four decades, from large motorcycles to HGVs, and still own three – a motor home, car and roadster. But, like me, do you see the writing on the wall – that says ‘top gear motor days are over’?

With the advent of driverless, electric-powered cars, we entered a digital motoring age. Top of the range vehicles – including BMW and Mercedes with conventional engines – inform you remotely where they are, how they are, what they need, what they are doing, having the capacity to park themselves. They ‘live and breathe information’, with which our smart phones light up at any distance.

It seems that the days of the incognito car are numbered. We have electronic number plate recognition, so it is a small step to the digitally identified vehicle; one that can be tracked remotely, and importantly, controlled remotely.

When travelling on UK roads and motorways, I am constantly amazed by the speed of some passing cars. More alarming is their closing and stopping speed. The combination of driver error and irresponsibility is fatal. Now what if those vehicles could be remotely managed?

It has always seemed to me to be an absurdity that vehicles for UK roads are still sold on the basis of speed. Assuming use on public roads with a 70 mph limit, how is this appropriate? Why do we tacitly promote the acquisition of high performance cars? On 13 March 1996, seventeen innocent deaths in Dunblane resulted in the abolition of handguns. So why in 2017 do we tolerate a massive car-death toll?

How would it be if all UK road vehicles (with the exception of emergency services) were fitted with speed regulators linked to road-side sensors that controlled maximum speed depending on road classification, and even road conditions? Why simply detect and fine, when you can regulate?

How many lives might be saved? How many vehicles involved in crime may be traced? And, when actively used for criminal or terrorist prevention purposes, how many vehicles could be identified, targeted and electronically slowed and brought to a stop – upon leaving a carriageway, or by police in pursuit?

Of course the ‘motoring rights lobby’ will screech in anguish, neglecting the fact that irresponsible exercise of their rights frequently deprives innocents of lives and families of loved ones. We would have to ‘get over’ the fact that, unlike people, vehicles fall into the category of accountable property, and that our movements with and in them would be traceable.

What is the current price of vehicular freedom? Is it worth it? If ‘freedom’ is really what you want, why not buy a bike and take the risk with the rest of us?

 

Barrister’s Survival Guide

 

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Congratulate me. I have just turned 40. No, not my age regrettably, but my years in private practice as an English barrister.

40 years doing the ‘same job’ got me thinking about what it is to be a barrister, how it has changed over the years, and importantly, what tips I can share concerning survival.

As one of the bar’s ‘senior juniors’ – an oxymoronic term used to describe ‘old barristers who have never ‘taken silk’  – I remember the days of drafty court rooms that existed in almost every town, where the judge would arrive at 10.30, to leave for home as soon as a trial finished or collapsed. As barristers, we were a small band of 6,000 – mostly in London, and generally knew everyone who worked on the circuit. We travelled the circuit, appearing at a variety of courts, often in very different cases. It was commonplace to see the same opponent in civil, criminal, regulatory, family and even chancery cases. We did what came up.

Clearly, those days have passed, just as old courts have closed. Today, we are specialists, new entrants to the bar sometimes only experiencing one area of practice.

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So that leads me to my first tip.

Experience life outside your specialist field. I accept that the days of general practice have passed and gone, that we are pressed into ever increasing specialisation, but with this comes two fatal flaws to excellence as an advocate. The first is the reduction of transferrable skills. Just as advocates in criminal cases do not gain regular exposure to the need for rigorous intellectual crafting of argument based on complex law, the civil practitioners finds themselves weak when it comes to the art of persuasion. Those practicing in family law (unless they have High Court and appeal practices) are frequently denied both, to wobble around with sentences like “mum says…”…and “wouldn’t you agree that contact went well?”.

Moving between disciplines over 40 years, I have been impressed and amazed at the relevance of transferrable skills between one specialist field and another, enhancing practice in each area and enriching the experience of being a barrister.

My second tip is ‘think condom’. Engaged in numerous high-level police corruption trials and hearings, my advice to the most senior police officers has been ‘protect yourself – prepare and record in anticipation of a public inquiry in 4 years’. Some listened, and survived. Others failed to heed, and were eventually dismissed or discredited. The same goes for barristers. Just round the corner is the surprise challenge, in which someone fails, complains or dies.

To address this it is wise to record the client’s decisions and the reasons for them; and our advice, the known facts on which it was based, and our justification for it. Several times I have been rescued by a comprehensive endorsement of my brief (a document that I contend falls outside client privilege), or a detailed attendance note made and shared immediately after a conference or hearing.

The third tip is ‘always have a plan B’. Just thinking about alternatives prepares our minds to address other possibilities as to approach and outcome. So we are rarely surprised, or worse, floored. More important with clients, the need for a ‘plan B’ focusses on the fact that the law is an inexact art, and advocating an outcome does not mean that the judge will agree. The plan B sometimes involves a simple matter of changing expectations, or alerting clients to the dangers of their case.

My fourth tip is ‘leave your work behind’. If, like me, you work extensively from home, find and preserve a place where you work, and from which you leave for family life. Here, I am thinking more of leaving problems behind, rather than the sharing of some of the more fun aspects of practice at the bar. In my case, my study is solely for work and legal discussion. It has a lock on the door, so I sense the moment when I depart, and return to real life.

My fifth and final tip is to take time out from practice. I have been a master at this skill, away for the summer whilst my family was young, and later taking longer trips involving months away, including sabattical breaks away from work.

Whilst I recall my very first senior clerk say to established barristers “…well, it is your practice, Sir”, and then look accusingly knowing that they would lose their nerve, I have never experienced anything other than continued prosperity, success and fulfilment coming from taking regular holidays and time out. More importantly, should you be lucky like me to survive 40 years of private practice, you will appreciate the enriching perspective that this has added to your life.

 

Final Furlong

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Written in Buenos Aires for ‘Death Cafe‘ this piece is about more about life than death – it concerns the ‘final furlong’.

For some – you might say ‘the lucky ones’ – death comes in old age, suddenly, painlessly and without warning. Others may face a long and challenging ‘final furlong’. Those of us in this group will need to prepare for death if we are to get it right – or as right as preparing for an unknown death can ever be.

Preparing for change is often one of our most difficult tasks as we age. We may be distracted by other concerns, in denial about our mortality, or simply too frail to address it. The one inevitability is that we will not escape it; so there is need to prepare well for a ‘good death’.

I shall be dealing with several aspects of ‘the final furlong’. My list is not exhaustive, nor my opinion definitive. There is more to be said, and I hope readers will add their experience and insight to produce the best-crafted approach to the process of infirmity, dying and death. Of particular interest is the less visible group who face the final furlong prematurely, before age can justify demise.

THE NUTS AND BOLTS
As it is unlikely that you will be given sufficient, if any advance warning of death, this advice is applicable to every adult, irrespective of age.

The first essential – to make a Will.
Recently, as a barrister I was instructed by the Official Solicitor to deal with an application in the Court of Protection on behalf of a dying woman. When younger, she had made a Will, but in the meantime her son – her sole beneficiary under her Will, had died. She was however fortunate in her final years to be cared for by a devoted step-daughter who lived with her. These were happy years until the old lady developed dementia. It was then that her historic (and now useless) Will was discovered, and her incapacity made it too late for her to make a new one.

Under the rules of Intestacy her step-daughter would receive not a penny. Within the list of the distant relatives to benefit, none had maintained contact with the old lady and most knew not of her existence. Using its inherent powers, the court indicated that it would change the Will in favour of the step-daughter, adding that there had rarely been a more deserving case. Yet the night before the hearing, the old lady died, and her step-daughter was forced to leave her home with just her clothes after 15 years as unpaid resident carer.

This tale tells of a bigger story. It speaks of the need to make, and review your Will to take account of your present circumstances. The ‘old Will in a drawer’ may be your last iniquity to a well-spent life.

My advice: after the age 25 make a Will, and update it as your life circumstances change. In later life, address your choices ‘root-and-branch’ to ensure your Will is appropriate and fair. Make a list of everything you possess, from real estate (houses and land), shares, policies and pensions – to other assets such as savings, vehicles, jewellery; then list their location. Set out your wishes in simple terms. A solicitor may prepare this for a charge, but it is possible to make your own Will by following this simple free guidance here.

The second essential – to prepare two powers of attorney.
As we age we lose capacity. At first this may be simply ‘a senior moment’ and a forgotten name. Few people reach the end of life with both memory and reasoning intact. In the future there will be many more elderly people with cognitive deficit. More concerning for a younger generation is the possibility of loss of capacity through trauma, such as car accident, major illness or stroke.

Most incidents of loss of capacity come suddenly and without warning. So it is wise to prepare powers of attorney that enable a relative or friend to make important decisions on your behalf should you lack capacity. There are two powers of attorney – one for health and welfare decisions; one to manage financial affairs. They cannot be exercised against your will, so that should not be a reason for failing to take this step.

My advice: make both at any age beyond 40 years. There is a cost to register your powers of attorney, but the cost is infinitesimal compared with the professional charges that will be involved should this choice be neglected. Ask a family member to assist you, or prepare both using the government’s on-line free service here.

The third essential – to make an Advance Decision and Advance Statement.
The advance decision sets out your instructions concerning your medical care at the end of life. Properly made and recorded, it is binding on medical professionals and relieves distressed relatives of difficult, sometimes divisive decisions. Whilst assisted dying is not currently a legal option in the UK, supported dying is. So this is your chance to specify the extent of care you would seek at various stages when your death is imminent, or should worthwhile existence have ceased.

You will be relieved to know that your advance statement is a more creative document. Here you state your preferences for care should you not be able to articulate them when the time comes. These may include where you would prefer to end your days, how and by whom you wish to be cared, by what name you wish to be addressed, what food, music and interests are important to you, and as important, what you would wish to avoid.

Preparing both the decision and the statement are simple using the free Compassion in Dying on-line support here.

Those facing terminal care should also make an advance care plan. For this you need to consult your treating physician when the time comes. Ensure that your advance decision and advance statement are attached to the care plan.

BEYOND THE BASICS

Prepare your own funeral / other arrangements.
Whilst to some this sounds a morbid topic (which it is), others find it quite empowering. You will not experience what you plan, but by preparing in advance, your family will be spared much work, stress, distress, and probably many arguments as to what is best.

At the most basic level, would you wish to be buried or cremated? Where would you wish to be buried or have your ashes scattered, how and by whom?

My mother chose her own funeral director – someone who she had known and respected. She pre-paid her funeral arrangements, as a sculptor, carved her own memorial stone, and specified the exact position where her ashes should be placed. On her death all that was required was a simple phone call – everything else was sorted.

My advice: prepare a plan. Humorously mark it “It’s My Funeral’, leave a list of who you wish to be invited, and how they may be contacted. Why not choose your favourite music, hymns, readings, and set out your wishes for a funeral breakfast or wake? Make provision for this within your Will so that the cost is clearly covered and not contested.

Where do you want to die?
In ‘The lady and the Reaper’ film we witness the conflict between the medical profession and the Grim Reaper. Hopefully, your advance decision will have taken care of this particular battle.

But there remains the issue of where you would wish to end your days. I have visited splendid care homes that are well staffed with caring people – yet often I sense the tediousness of day-to-day existence that many residents experience in a care or nursing home.

Towards the end of my mother’s life, remaining in her own home with support afforded her access to all that was familiar in a location where friends could drop by.

Others may not be so fortunate. Removal to a care home can be confusing and may be distressing. For those with mental capacity, the move is itself a form of bereavement when they let go of possessions and familiarity.

My advice: Write down your wishes. If you own your home, assess its suitability for old age, advancing infirmity and ‘the final furlong’. What is needed to allow you to remain there? Can it be adapted to afford you ground floor living? What about electronic, key-less entry for family, visitors and carers? What is the value of your home should you need to move? What other accommodation will your equity and savings afford? If you do not own your home, what alternatives are out there by way of retirement or sheltered accommodation?

If you reach the stage where you may need hospital care, do you really want to undertake this last journey and face death in a hospital bed? If not, your family and friends need to know your wishes and feelings, so that they can be respected.

Departing with dignity and saying goodbye
Most of us reach the end of life with unfinished business. It may be an argument with a relative or friend, or an unspoken acknowledgment of love, thanks or support. At the simplest level it could just be who you would wish to be informed when you die.

My advice: make a list of who you wish to be told of your death, and how they can be contacted. Write letters to those that you love, respect and will miss, together with those that you know will feel your loss. Should you have outstanding issues, you can address them in a letter sensitively – understanding that there can be no reply.

In Mitch Albom’s ‘Tuesdays with Morrie’, facing end of life, Morrie was asked what he valued most in life. His answer was unsurprising – ‘family, friends and relationships’.

Perhaps, by way of acknowledgement or repair, a word of thanks or forgiveness to our family, friends and those we have known and valued can be our final parting gift before we die?

Stephen Twist © 2017 for Death Cafe
With thanks to YG2D.com for the photo

Barrister of 37 years is hotel manager for 3 months

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Thirty seven years of practice as a barrister must have an outcome. Silk; or judicial appointment to the High Court Bench? No.

A quiet fade-away into slippered retirement, wearing jazzy socks and carrying a secateurs? Not.

So, for what else, as professional life slips to a close, is an aging barrister qualified?

Those who know me know the answer without the help of this blog. Over the past nine years, fifteen months in Buenos Aires has told me about life, and the need to live it. It has incited me to dance Argentine tango – the tango walk, the moment, the giro, the embrace. So, when my friends said, “Come and look after Casa Luna while we are away”, the answer was a sudden and simple, yes.

Picture if you will, a warm balmy evening, the crickets cricketing across the paving stones, the soft sound of music drifting on night air, the lights low, a rustle in the trees where a slow draft of liquid air gently shakes glossy leaves. As we reach the steps to wide double doors, the music is defined as tango. Above, figures move in close embrace, feeling the dance and feeling life.

The orchestra strikes up a song from Di Sarli for a new tanda. I ‘cabeceo’ across the room to secure a mirada response from an unknown dance partner. She smiles. I walk. We meet at her table. She rises to dance. A passing tanguero nods for us to enter the pista. We embrace and we walk. I feel her weight, her balance, and the tenderness of her touch. I smell her perfume, and allow the infinite structure of the music to dictate the rest.

We dance the tanda of three songs, each taking us further and further into the moment of the dance, before the cortina indicates that we part. Light suffuses, our breathing synchronises, we experience that ‘melting moment’ of connection when dance becomes life, and life becomes dance. Deeper and deeper, until there is no more depth to explore. The music ceases. We stand for a moment before returning to her seat. This is the milonga of Buenos Aires. This is the magic of dance.

Seven thousand miles from England. But a million miles from legal practice on the North Eastern Circuit. Courts and clients fade to distant memory. ‘Not before 10.30 at Teesside Combined Court Centre’ ceases to have meaning. We leave the milonga at 6 am, a taxi awaits, it races through deserted streets until we reach our leafy bario, collecting media lunas (tiny sweet croissant) and brewing fresh coffee as the sun rises before another glorious balmy day.

So, there it is. Until April, Casa Luna, Buenos Aires shall be my home, a place filled with sunlight, and anchored with an embrace.

If you want to know more about this particular journey, do not stay here – for this page will be silent until April. Simply visit http://stephentwist.blogspot.co.uk/ to learn about and follow the life of a tango dancing barrister in Buenos Aires – the ‘ups and downs’ of Argentine life, and this special connection to another world.

Advocacy – a low in Family Courts, or a sign of the times?

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With thanks to Mark Anderson for use of his cartoon  https://www.andertoons.com/

After 37 years of practice at the Bar – out of touch? I hope not as much as you would expect. Moved with the times? Now, here you can judge.

Today’s blog concerns family court advocacy.

I have not always been a family practitioner. There was a time – up to 1997 – when my practice involved largely criminal defence and regulatory work. After a diet of inner and outer London Crown Courts, and of course, the Central Criminal Court, I moved to the North Eastern Circuit to spend my time in the Crown Courts of Yorkshire. It follows that my advocacy skills were seated in the demands and honed by the constraints of plain speaking criminal advocacy.

The process was simple. Examination involved asking questions. Non-leading questions. The simpler, the better. Each question could, and frequently was prefaced with the words “who, what, where, when, how, why”. The aim of the question was to elicit a reply, and the reply was the evidence. Oral evidence was the currency of the court.

Cross examination permitted leading questions – where a direction or suggested answer occurs naturally within the question. Previous inconsistent statements could be put to a witness and tested by questioning – “here, you said ‘a’; now you say ‘b’; why the difference?”

Beyond those simple rules, we did not stray. To do so would result in the judge stopping line of questioning and the defective question prevented. Save for older silks, most complied, and we got along fine.

Whilst the admissibility of affidavits and statutory declarations has always been permitted, there came a time when pre-prepared statements were encouraged, and later required. In civil proceedings, the statements were to stand as the witness’ evidence, and it would be on their written statement that they would be tested in cross examination.

As a process, this lasted ‘but five judicial minutes in a long legal landscape’. Advocates used the statements to prepare the ground, rather than setting it. So it is rare today that witnesses are called and tendered on the basis of their written statement. Instead, advocates track through already deposed facts and recollections, and judges sit silently permitting this to happen, as if they hear the revelation for the first time.

But the main current transgression in advocacy skills, is the use by advocates of ‘comment’ dressed elaborately as a question. We all know that there is a massive difference between questions, assertions and comments. The first is designed to elicit evidence, and the others are an argumentative measure of the questioner’s opinion.

Habitually in family courts, lines of questioning are loaded with comment, or flung at witnessed as assertions. Some practitioners may say this is simply to ‘set the scene’ for a question. Mostly, the scene does not need to be set, and the assertive comment from an advocate is entirely out of place where the judge has read the evidence bundle. Maybe this is the problem – maybe the judges haven’t and the advocates are seeking to describe the case to the judge, rather than question the witness on their evidence?

The more judges permit it to occur, the more it happens, to the point of normalising the ‘assertive-comment question’. The clarity of the process is not the only casualty; another is a diminution of the skill of the advocate. As opinion and evidence blur, so does the original integrity of the purpose and function of questioning witnesses. Witnesses are not simply confronted – which is good; but bullied, confused and invited to argument – which is cruel, unnecessary and to my view, unprofessional.

The flaw now appears ubiquitous in family courts, as family judges sit back and listen to comment-laden questions fired repetitively, to the point that when it comes to closing submissions (or comment) there is not a fresh comment to make.

Some suggest that the family courts have ‘floated away from the mainstream civil legal process’, with altered rules of evidence and procedure. Yes, family courts have a special, human job to do -one that frequently requires a more informal approach -but the casualties of free-for-all questioning are extensive, not least the skill and ability of advocates to question without comment.

 

 

Its my money. Trust me!

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Over the final half of my 37 years as a barrister in private practice, I have been arguing over money.

Not mine, I hasten to add, but other people’s. In particular, divorcing spouses or cohabitees. There comes a time after almost every separation when two people who have lived together and loved, start to argue about the spoils. Those that can afford it rush to a solicitor or direct access barrister and commence battle. Those that cannot pay may chose to go it alone.

Either way, they have embarked on a battle from which there is little respite – until they run out of money, of energy, or are crushed at court in a final hearing.

But the purpose of this blog is not to bemoan honest,hard-working people spending inordinate amounts of their money on lawyers and in courts. It is to examine the fundamental flaws of financial remedy proceedings (as the financial arrangements are called in court).

My first observation is prosaically procedural. How is it that going to court to argue financial splitting of assets can remotely be justified? The cost of this process starts at £12,000 for the couple, and soars to a dizzy £100-120,000 in more complex cases. In J v J the parties managed to rack up £920,000 in costs between them, much to the judicial amazement and displeasure of Mr Justice Mostyn. Do they get a return on their investment? J v J didn’t; and generally, the chances are – not.

Readers of my earlier blogs will recall my commentary on the alternatives of mediation and arbitration, which I will not repeat here. Guidance by a single expert makes sense, assuming the expert knows what a judge would do, and that both parties agree to be bound by the outcome. There is, of course, the other ‘questionable’ alternative of splitting at the outset by way of pre or post-nuptual agreement.

My main concern here is to do with the philosophy of division where children are involved. In fact, my problem goes further – to question of ‘ownership’ and ‘responsibility’.

The financial wars that I have witnessed rarely focus on the children. Yes, this may be the court’s first consideration when it comes to making an order, but the children seem to remain ‘bit players’ in the battles, unless they are to be used as weapons to secure a greater share of the booty for one of the parents.

So, what would happen if we changed the rules?

Imagine this. When two people decide that they are to have children, they would do so in the knowledge that they forfeit ownership of property to them? How would that be?

Simple. The law would deem that all matrimonial property vested immediately in trust for the children, and that each parent became a trustee for the child. Rather than children being ‘the first consideration’ for a court, a child or children would be deemed to be the beneficial owners of all of the property. There would no longer be the ‘divvy up’ entitlement of assets to to each parent; there would be an appropriate of provision for the parents’ immediate needs and no more. The rest would be managed exclusively to provide everything that their child would need through to the age of 21.

What a glorious world that would be – children placed, where they deserve and need to be – at the centre of decision making as the beneficiary and responsibility of their parents’ endeavours.

But will such ever come to pass? Of course not. We have neither the imagination to prioritise children over parental greed, nor the legal system to oversee it.

Instead, we will continue to subsidise the lifestyle of lawyers (of which I am one). But, long may it continue – for after all, what value the future of our children?