Location, location, location: New Law Journal, 8 August 2008

08 August 2008

Location, location, location

The law lords' move to Middlesex Guildhall cannot happen soon enough, says David Pope

When Lord Falconer announced in December 2004 that Middlesex Guildhall would be expensively renovated to house the new UK Supreme Court, I confess that I was sceptical. With so many deserving calls on public funds, I wondered how the Government could sensibly justify spending £30 million to move the 12 law lords from one side of Parliament Square to the other. I suspected a vanity project: the former Lord Chancellor wanted to put the bling into New Labour's dabbling in constitutional reform.

Change of heart 
I am a sceptic no longer. Not that my change of heart owes anything to the patter on the Ministry of Justice's website. I sincerely doubt that relocating the most senior judges in the land to a building a few hundred metres from the Palace of Westminster will play much part in "further separating the judiciary from the legislature". And there is probably any number of sites in central London other than Middlesex Guildhall that would provide "a fitting location for the apex of the justice system". No, I have seen the light because, for the first time in 13 years as a practising barrister, I recently attended a hearing in the House of Lords.
It did not last long, barely 50 minutes, but it didn't have to. I was converted within moments of entering the courtroom.

A tricky start 
First, though, I had to find the courtroom. Now, I have been to the Houses of Parliament many times and am well aware that the place is a gothic rabbit warren. But I was still unprepared for the labyrinth of corridors and stairwells that the parties' legal teams must negotiate upon entering the building from Black Rod's Garden. At one point during the trek, my two colleagues and I stepped out of a rickety lift to find ourselves on a narrow landing with nothing but a dark wooden door at either end. Both doors bore signs declaring that they were to remain closed at all times. Franz Kafka couldn't have made it up. Thankfully, we
managed to find a kindly security guard, who must spend half her life undertaking search and rescue missions for lost lawyers.
She ushered us through one of the never-to-be-opened doors and pointed out our destination: Appellate Committee Room 1.

No aesthetic jewel 
I have seen the insides of enough courtrooms to know that they are rarely aesthetic jewels. A confection of oak panelling, crimson velvet flocked wallpaper and colourfully bound law reports, Appellate Committee Room 1 is no exception. Throw in an ancient-looking wall-mounted television and a selection of haemorrhoid-inducing leather chairs, and you have a cross between a headmaster's study and the sitting-room of an old-fashioned B&B. The singular ambience created by this hotchpotch was rounded off by the pervasive aroma of boiled cabbage, which apparently emanated from the kitchens below.

Size matters 
Yet neither the decor nor the odour of Appellate Committee Room 1 surprised me as much as its size. In comparison with most courtrooms in the Royal Courts of Justice, and many county courts for that matter, Appellate Committee Room 1 is tiny. There are just four rows of chairs for counsel, solicitors, the parties and the public to park themselves. Space is so limited that the law lords sit barely six feet from the bar at which the advocates deliver their submissions.
This arrangement may be a godsend for those barristers who struggle with voice projection (although a remarkably powerful amplification system seemed to pick up the slightest shuffle of papers).
But where on earth does everyone sit when their lordships consider a case that involves more than two parties or that attracts a sizeable public gallery? And this was Appellate Committee Room 1 remember. How small is Appellate Committee Room 2?
It is not as if there are commodious waiting areas outside the courtrooms to compensate for the cramped conditions inside. Quite the reverse. Appellate Committee Room 1 gives out on to a long corridor that cannot be more than 10 feet wide. When we emerged from our hearing, the first of four listed that morning, we consequently found ourselves in a crush of lawyers and parties awaiting their turn.
Searching for a route out of the building that did not involve barging through the throng, we almost walked straight into Lord Hoffmann, who was heading into the courtroom to hear the next case.

Roll on 2009
I can only imagine how he and his brethren regard the archaic arrangements under which they currently labour. At least, according to the Ministry of Justice's website, the new Supreme Court will open for business in October 2009. I'd wager that next autumn cannot come soon enough for the law lords. And what of the £30 million cost of renovating Middlesex Guildhall? If the new courthouse is spacious and modern, and doesn't smell of cabbage, it would be a snip at twice the price.

David Pope is a barrister and director of advocacy at Denton Wilde Sapte LLP

This article was published in New Law Journal on 8 August 2008

• David Pope