This year’s Leeds seminar is turning out to be quite unlike
any other. Someone had the daft idea
that instead of falling asleep listening to lectures, it would be a bit of a
wheeze if we did some workshops instead.
A roomful of patent attorneys emits a collective sigh on hearing this
news. Laptops are slammed shut with resignation and not a little
resentment. Some of us were hoping to
file oppositions this afternoon.
We assemble into groups and go through someone else’s
patent, with the benefit of a hindsight that can only come of knowing how the
patent was macerated by a High Court judge, and decide how much better a job we
could have done OF COURSE. Actually I
find this quite hard work. As a chemist,
I am used to drafting claims that require a bit of A and a bit of B and some C
and a cupful of D, all stirred up at a ratio no-one can clarify yet and for use
in the treatment of something nasty and medical-sounding. I had forgotten how hard it is to draft a
claim for a mechanical device, especially one with pivots and pins and levers
and cams, which must surely be at the cutting edge of science so no wonder I am
struggling.
After the seminar-which-was-not-really-a-seminar, I attend
the usual happy hour and dinner. The Pee
has had to leave early, so it falls to me to do the speeches. I make them very, very short. I do not say grace because God is unlikely to
listen, me being a heathen and all, so I hope that nobody gets food poisoning
tomorrow because if they do they will know who to blame.
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