By Mark Ablett
Once upon a time, in a world where Google was not in our pockets and mobile telephones were the size of a small horse, there existed the Court Guide, compiled for the travelling barrister by one Andrew Goodman, a then practising barrister who deserves acclaim for his ingenuity and generosity. At its core, this guide included details of all the courts, including addresses and telephone numbers. Legend has it such a guide also included pointers for restaurants, hotels, possibly even an establishment offering a choice tipple. Its focus was on the South Eastern and Western Circuits, but surely in this noble year of 2026, we can dream bigger.
Many advantages have come with the advent of paperless working, emails and general access to the internet through 5G (unless you find yourself on the train down to Hampshire where the internet signal appears to have fled). The loss, however, of the Court Guide can only be seen as a tragic demise of an invaluable source of knowledge. This article is a plea to revive such a guide, asking the real questions, like where can one actually acquire an acceptable coffee in Slough?
Readers might accuse me of nostalgia. It brings to mind Owen Wilson’s character in Woody Allen’s “Midnight in Paris”, who yearns after life in the 1920s in Paris. The sceptical know-it-all played by Michael Sheen called it “Golden Age Thinking; the erroneous notion that a different time period is better than the one one's living in”. Maybe. I cannot say I yearn for the early days of my practice where papers were carted around in a suitcase or lugged up to court in boxes by sweating junior clerks. I probably do yearn for a period when the court estate was slightly less ramshackle than it is now (if such a heyday ever truly existed).
The barrister is an odd creature. So often we find ourselves travelling against the tide. In my more junior years, I would be the one waiting at Waterloo or Paddington to board a train going the entirely opposite direction to the madding crowd. Where people commute to the office and have their tried and tested lunch spots, each day brings something new for the intrepid travelling barrister. And when that voyaging advocate requires sustenance, where do they turn? Can they trust the run-down local café that looks like it has the same relationship with hygiene as Gollum has with a toothbrush?
Do they instead, with a weary inevitability, turn once more to the ubiquitous ‘Pret’, inhaling a chicken Caesar baguette on the way to/from court? Or perhaps to the increasingly omnipresent Gail’s, to spend the entire brief fee on a Lilliputian bun allegedly filled with something tasty?
My first pupil supervisor adopted the policy of not really eating during the day, which was a tough transition for young gourmand moi, but even she lived by a morning coffee. Where to go? And how to get value for money? Both Greggs and Pret give you coffee from an automated machine; does the organic bean at Pret justify the additional price?
If only there was a publication which answered these searching questions, maintained by locals well-versed in their ‘patch’. It is too much to ask of Mr Goodman who has already given so much, but I am at a loss as to why this is not item one on the Bar Council agenda at every single meeting. Imagine the second-six pupil, marooned in Medway after attending a frustrating hearing before magistrates (is there any other kind of hearing before magistrates?). Instead of falling down in hunger and despair, they could open their little book, perhaps in PDF if we are trying to align with the times, and have at their fingertips the wealth of knowledge accrued by Kent’s finest over the years.
Why not you, you whimsical blowhard, I hear you cry? Even as I write this article, my 3-year-old has knocked on my study door, entered with a ‘Bluey’ cupcake and has stood over me, insisting I eat it there and then and give her feedback. I fear I was overly effusive, leading to the risk that an entire court guide would prompt full-size cakes to the point where I would have to instruct a tailor to reconfigure my entire wardrobe. More pertinently, I see this as a genuine opportunity for a joint effort. I have not the faintest idea where one can get the best coffee in Birmingham, but I am willing to bet a slightly sweaty ‘Bluey’ cupcake that someone else does.
Some chambers I know do maintain their own invaluable guides and no doubt this is a serious incentive for any applicants for pupillage and tenancy. But this knowledge should not be jealously guarded; such hoarding is against the camaraderie and collegiality of the Bar.
My patch increasingly these days is Central London; not exactly a desert of options, but then again one can have too many choices and be overwhelmed in the same way as the barrister with too few. However, over the years I have developed a few choice spots, some of which I will share with you now, as my starting contribution for the guide that we must revive. Interested parties should contact me with their contribution, both in terms of recommendation and baked good.
Slough
Whilst a mere 15 minutes by fast train from Paddington, central Slough remains that of Sir John Betjeman. Now, even the Greggs has gone. One walks from the train station, around the derelict shopping centre and on to what purports to be a high street, albeit one primarily boarded up. You turn right, nodding in respect to a fallen comrade to the shop front which once housed Greggs and continue towards the court, noticing the adult shop practically next door to the church. You crave a caffeine injection but are faced with a County Court bereft of even a vending machine with two conference rooms which have no soundproofing between them and a weird glass bubble in the middle of the waiting area which, whilst technically another conference room, is more akin to a fishbowl in The Truman Show style.
Stop, intrepid traveller. Further down the main road where you find the religious and erotic neighbours, there exists a Premier Inn. Enter. Enjoy the air conditioning, take a seat, invite your client and have a cup of absolutely acceptable coffee brought to your table. Next door, you find Tesco for any immediate needs. Once your hearing has concluded and you bask in your inevitable victory, proceed with haste back towards the station. If feeling peckish and brave, Peshawar Zaiqa which is on your way back offers a competitive lamb kobeda in an otherwise bizarrely blended menu which ranges from pasta bolognese to channa daal.
Barnet
A powerhouse of North London, oddly allied in the family law world with West London Family Court (which is in a genuine desert of acceptable options). Take the Station Road exit from Finchley Central station and breathe in the sweet air of zone 4.
For your mandatory coffee en route to court, stop at Tintico on the corner, where performative caffeine drinkers sit in the large window, occasionally tapping on a laptop as if they actually have a purpose. Turn left onto Regents Park Road and head towards the newly renovated court (which still looks exactly the same). Should you require a sweet treat before court (we have all had those days), stop in at Parkway Patisserie which faithfully serves the local Jewish population. Having walked all over your opponent and bedazzled the judge with your legal brilliance, exit the court and decide on luncheon. I present three options in the immediate vicinity:
- Bluebelles of Portobello: if you asked ChatGPT to render an image of ‘brunch spot’ this would be it. Their unintended specialism appears to be stacks, down to even serving a vegetarian English breakfast stacked up. Less ambitious diners might consider the chicken schnitzel.
- The King of Prussia: if it has been one of those days, order from their huge selection of draught beers of unusual origin and tuck into reliable pub food or very respectable pizza. My adjectives have previously been more enthusiastic on the general food offering but a change of ownership re-jigged the menu.
- Lush Coffee: spoiler alert, it is not just coffee. If you asked Claude to render an image of ‘brunch spot’, this may well be it, although Claude would probably scold you for being so silly and invite you instead to do something meaningful. The owner can be seen sweeping past tables with an omnipresent smile and the menu offers umpteen interpretations of egg. The chicken salad should not be sniffed at, although do sniff it, it is lovely.
Hitch up your trousers or skirt, now straining against the bulge of a proper lunch, and venture back onto the tube to find a quiet spot in chambers for a post-prandial snooze.
Mark Ablett, Barrister, 29 BR