A day in the life...

Morning

Walking into the house of a magistrate at 7 a.m. the last thing you expect to smell is - lunch.

As I sit in her living room, surrounded by family photographs, Magistrate Consuelo Scerri Herrera sits in front of me in a robe and tells me about the part of her morning - between 5.45 a.m. and then - that I have missed.

By the time I got to her house in Kappara on that Monday morning she had prepared two of her three children for school, had breakfast with them over a game of Uno, taken a cup of tea to her husband in bed, medicated her three cats, loaded the washing machine and placed a chicken in the timer-controlled oven.

Oh yes, and this happened to be a Monday. Had it been a Tuesday or Friday she would have gone horse riding before all this.

"How do you do it?," I asked - a question I caught myself repeating, in awe, for the rest of the day. I would later realise that it all boiled down to an empowering philosophy.

After introducing me to Nawxa, one of the much treasured feline members of the family, at about 8 a.m. Magistrate Scerri Herrera excuses herself to go get ready.

Ten minutes later she walks back into the room in a black suit - clearly ready to take on the day ahead.

At 8.15 a.m. she steps out of her house to find her driver waiting to escort her to the law courts in Valletta.

By the time I battle my way through the Monday-morning traffic and get to the courts, she is already working at her desk and smiles as she tells me that being driven into Valletta is one of the perks of the job.

Now, before her court room becomes packed with people, is time for paper work. She clears her mail box, meets up with probation officers and deals with bail applications. All this she does with the assistance of her two registrars Charles Stivala and Connie Azzopardi and court marshal Reno Spiteri - a three-strong staff team which, she says, she has been blessed with.

At 9.05 a.m. she takes her place on the bench as lawyers and police officers, most of them men, stream into the court room. Surrounded by case documents, with the Maltese Coat of Arms hanging above her, she presides over the cases in a marathon criminal sitting during which she is often addressed as "Sur Magistrat" (Mr Magistrate).

But that's not all - there is another whole level of work she has to deal with since she is the magistrate on duty. In her chambers her phone is heard ringing - the sound of duty. Warrants of arrest come in for her approval and she appoints technical experts to look into a robbery. Apart from that she has been recently assigned to preside over civil cases too.

Afternoon

It's 12.45 p.m. As the pile of documents on her desk becomes smaller, the mob in the room slowly disappears. Her sitting is over, bringing the first part of her day to an end. She now goes home to have lunch with her family at 1 p.m. I leave her in peace for a while then meet her again at her house two hours later.

3 p.m. This is what she defines as "the worst part of the day". The challenge is a big one. She gets to help (or convince) her two younger children - Chiara, 13, and Alexander, 14 - to do their homework. This is when she really puts her patience to the test. Today it's maths and both her children brought a friend over to do their homework with. They sit in the garden, her son and his friend to her left and her daughter and friend to her right. She juggles their questions.

3.45 p.m. The homework is ready. Today is a lucky day - usually the homework saga takes much longer. The children's nanny turns up as Magistrate Scerri Herrera has to go to the police headquarters.

I get to meet the third and eldest daughter Justine, 16, who remains in her room. I also get to meet her two Persians - Highness and Garfield. The picture speak for itself.

4 p.m. She arrives at the police headquarters where she is to be present during a police line-up. First she heads to the office of a police inspector and starts taking down the facts surrounding a hold-up. Someone has been robbed and will be asked to point out the assailant from a row of men. We are kindly asked to leave, to maintain the confidentiality of the case - fair enough. Our next appointment is in two hours' time.

Evening

6 p.m. She's at the gym now. Yes, the gym. It's a lesson to all those who claim they don't have time to exercise. Here, at this private gym in St Julians, is where she comes four times a week to let off steam. It's one intense hour of circuit training with her personal trainer Audrey Callus.

As she jogs effortlessly, she tells me that in the two hours we were apart she was called to deal with a suicide.

So after the weights and the squats are over at 7 p.m. she heads home to shower and change to meet a friend of hers at 8 p.m. They plan to write the invitations for a party they are organising. In the meantime, she appoints other technical court experts to deal with another theft and an arson attack on a car.

After that she goes home and has supper with the children and her husband Lawrence Scerri, an equally busy dermatologist.

She then makes herself comfortable - in her study.

When we speak the next day she tells me she stayed up till 1 a.m. writing judgments to be delivered the following month.

She explains how, even after spending 10 years as a magistrate, she strongly believes that after spending years going in and out of court, waiting for a case to be decided, people deserve a judgment that explains exactly why their decision is what it is.

Again I ask: How do you do it?

She explains that she loves her job as it gives her a lot of satisfaction and that, in itself, it is her driving force. Then she uncovers her life-altering philosophy which goes something like this: "I'd rather wake up early and stay up late to get things done. That way I stress less."

For her, having lunch ready at 7.30 a.m. meant that, come 12.30 p.m., she does not have to stress (while in court) about getting lunch ready.

And as she did with the rest of her day - she made it all sound like a walk in the park.