Just call me Your Honour in Waiting

So jury service started today.

Up before I was awake and queuing outside court before nine o'clock in the morning.

First problem: I had to manoeuvre my way through a revolving door. I just have a things about them: do I have to push it? Will it move automatically? Will I have time to get out?

Second problem: security man appeared to be speaking Welsh. (He wasn't.)
Me: 'Sorry?'
Security: 'How can I help you?'
Me: 'Um, I don't know.'
Security, slowly and loudly: 'Okay, let's see, are you here for jury service?'
Me: 'Oh yes, that's right.'

Third problem: while going through my bag security man sees my water bottle. 'Would you take a drink from that, please?'

Being asked wasn't the problem: it was my initial reaction to pretend to be poisoned that was the problem.*

From there on it was fairly straight-forward if disappointing. Joined another queue only to be told I could go home. I am on a list apparently, and could be called at any point in the next two weeks - with twenty-four hours' notice.

I had better be called: I have already worked out how I am going to include a trial scene in my next novel. I need the details!

And it was still only five past nine.

Husband had dropped me off and gone to the gym so I walked into the town centre to do a bit more Christmas shopping, only to find most of the shops still closed.

Then I spent far longer than was necessary in a toy shop trying to find things I didn't really need to make my shopping cost more than £30 to entitle me to 10% discount. 

* I didn't really pretend to be poisoned. I used to go into prison a lot and I know how seriously they take 'jokes' in there.

P.S. I know once I'm on a jury I can't talk about the case to anyone but I don't think I've said anything confidential here.