I was watching my local tv news the other day – reports of a long awaited inquest into a big tragedy was beginning and the reporter was standing outside the charming olde worlde building in the centre of town that now acted at the Coronor’s Court. We always imagine streamlined harsh new builds after seeing so much coronor and pathologist activity on tv drama shows. There’s never any scruffy buildings with flower displays poking out of tubs by the door! Seeing this clip reminded me of so many occasion when I accompanies parties from the waiting rooms downstairs at an equally ancient court building some years ago. Although a case officer, I had to take my turn acting as a tribunal clerk for hundreds of cases that came through in a year. Interviewing the witnesses to cases and ensuring they were in the right waiting room – taking a note of whether they would be taking an oath, and if so, on which holy book . . . or perhaps just an affirmation, which promises to give the whole truth but leave out any religeous bits. Ahh, how the memories rolled back of many cases that were settled in the day – with varing amounts of anomosity between the ractious sides – nothing’s changed on that score!