September 2024. A weekend I will not forget in a hurry. I left home with a backpack filled with every imaginable device, notebook and pen, and an empty suitcase in tow. It was the first weekend of my Bar Practice Course, and I write this from the perspective of a part-time student undertaking the University’s programme for aspiring barristers.
The morning was quiet, the sort of half-awake start that comes with early trains and not enough coffee. I wasn’t nervous, exactly, but there was a sense of weight to it, the start of something that had been a long time coming. Other passengers were heading to work or home; I was heading into a world I had only read about until now. It felt less like a grand beginning and more like a small, practical step in the right direction.
You may be wondering why I carried an empty suitcase. As part of the course fees (at least in my case), students receive copies of Blackstone’s Criminal Practice, the White Book (both volumes), and a range of manuals and supplements. These are not always issued at once, as universities often await deliveries, but when they do arrive together, no backpack will suffice. On the rare occasion that Blackstone’s and the White Book are handed out simultaneously, you will be grateful for the suitcase.
When the books were distributed, there was a collective laugh as we compared their weight. Yet behind the humour was a quiet awareness that these were not just reference materials, but symbols of the responsibility we were undertaking. Holding Blackstone’s for the first time as a Bar student felt less like achievement and more like a reminder: this was serious business.
The first weekend was, for me, relatively informal. We heard from a range of university services, including the Employability, Wellbeing and Pro Bono Teams, each outlining how they support students throughout the course. Some of the lecturers also spoke, setting out the structure and expectations for the months ahead. What struck me most was the diversity of our cohort. There were recent graduates, seasoned professionals, and others like me who had taken a more unconventional path. It was a reminder that the Bar attracts not only those who love the law, but those shaped by the realities of work, life and public service.
The tone of the weekend was encouraging but realistic. The tutors spoke candidly about the challenges of balancing work, study and family life, particularly for those of us on the part-time route. One lecturer said something that has stayed with me since: “The Bar is a marathon, not a sprint.” It sounded simple at the time, but by Sunday evening it felt about right.
By the end of the weekend, WhatsApp and email groups had been set up and introductions made. It quickly became clear that no one was going through this alone. There was a sense of quiet camaraderie, a shared understanding that this was going to be hard work, and that no one yet had it all figured out.
It was on the train home that the reality of it all began to settle. I realised this was actually happening, that there was no turning back. I would need to make sacrifices, difficult choices and manage my time with precision. The journey home was a blur. I remember boarding the train and later stepping off, but little else. That evening, I logged into the university’s learning platform and stared at the modules ahead: Criminal Litigation and Criminal Skills. Both demand equal attention and commitment, and together they could easily amount to a full-time occupation.
That first weekend taught me more than I expected. It reminded me that preparation is not just about reading or revising, but about resilience, adaptability and a fair amount of persistence. The Bar Course is not designed to test how much one can memorise, but how one thinks, reasons and upholds the standards of the profession.
This is simply an insight into my first experience of the Bar Practice Course, and what your own first weekend might be like. The structure and content are largely consistent across providers, as much of the material is either set or approved by the Bar Standards Board. It marks not only the start of an academic journey, but the beginning of a professional transformation. One that replaces idealism with realism, and ambition with commitment.
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