So a client died one me.
Eighty two years old, garrulous as hell and a real fighter. Fighting with his own son who had thrown him out of his house. Property dispute which was actually centred over hurt egos and wounded feelings.
Had uncleared bills to the tune of fifty-nine thousand.
Wanted every document drafted to his liking and would call thrice a day to ensure that it was filed on time.
Paid the last “instalment” of fees out of the costs awarded by the Court.
And the funny thing is that the first thing I thought of when I heard about the demise is “Fuck, so now do we bring the LR’s on record?”.
Well, it wasn’t the first thing but one of the initial thoughts.
I have a strange feeling that part of what allowed him to live so long was the chronic litigation that he would indulge in…without that, perhaps his life would have no purpose.
How cruel and how heartless.
You live and you learn I suppose. Only thing is sometimes I wish the class was a little noisier and the Headmaster less of a prick.