I’m doing my jury service at the moment. After several days, we’ve just finished the case for the prosecution of my first case. And frankly, bits of it have been crushingly dull. To the point where I was having trouble concentrating on what the witnesses were saying, despite the fact that I know just how important it is that I not miss anything.

The last witness was for the prosecution was the officer in charge of the investigation, who really didn’t have much to do but participate in a reading of the interview she had conducted with the defendant. I wasn’t complaining. I mean, normally any sort of Scottish accent will make me sit up and beg, but dear god, this was possibly the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard.

This is sort of amusing to me on several levels but mostly because I have a mental picture of trying to chat her up afterward, were such a thing possible: “Excuse me, you don’t know me, but I was a juror at the trial you just gave evidence at, and frankly, the sound of your voice damn near melted my brain. Would you fancy a drink, or possibly just reading to me at random from whatever book we can find?”