Crossing the Centre Line

Well, I'll be... as Friday's opening wrapped up and I asked if my monologue made any sense, everything was as it should be - the lawyers began to draw themselves up in readiness for their own openings, the air was tense but with a hint of co-operation threatening...

...just as the plaintiff's attorney sucked in enough oxygen to get her through her opening salvo the air began to stir in the defendant's camp...an acknowledgement of the significance of the day ahead perhaps...a thank you to the other side for being there maybe?

No, it turned out that this mediator had stumbled badly and I had inadvertently given up the hallowed middle turf that we occupy only so long as our parties permit us.

What was I thinking?!

I was writing on a note pad branded with the name of the law firm representing the plaintiff (lucky they didn't notice the pen...it was from an offshore subsidiary of the bank they were shortly to blame their demise on...phew!)

I had gone to sleep at the wheel and crossed the centre line.

Could've been ugly...