I never planned to become a legal historian. At school I was persuaded at an early age that my future lay in chemistry. Having duly applied to university to read natural sciences, I suddenly decided that I was set on the wrong course and announced that I wished instead to read archaeology. My excellent headmaster soon put paid to that – impossible, he said, without Greek. I therefore took what seemed to be the only remaining option and embarked upon the study of the law. The intention was to become a barrister, though my experience of the law courts was limited to a few days' attendance at Chelmsford assizes as trumpeter to the high sheriff of Essex. I joined the Inner Temple in 1963, ate my dinners, was duly called to the bar, and have retained a life-long interest in the inns of court and their contribution to English history. But the projected career did not materialise. There were only 2,200 barristers in practice then, and starting was not easy. Before I had occasion to experience the difficulties, Professor G. W. Keeton, head of the Department of Laws at University College London, suggested that I might take up an assistant lectureship on graduation – supposedly to support me while I sorted out a pupillage. This was duly arranged, without a formal application, let alone an appointments committee. A little later he suggested that I might submit a doctoral thesis in my spare time.