Last month I did the unthinkable - for the first time in months I took a day off work. I mean a whole full day of leave for no particular reason whatsoever.

The intention was to dilly dally and take things easy, but true to my nature I filled the whole day up with 'must-do' chores. Between scurrying to the hairdresser, and rushing out for supplies, I ended up spending a total of 4 minutes and 34 seconds at home, during which time a crafty court marshal managed to serve me with a court summons for jury duty!

Nice!

Just to put you in the picture, jury duty is no walk in the park. Over a hundred people are called in for each case, and if chosen as one of the nine jurors, you are technically held under arrest for the duration of the case. This could last anything between a couple of days or weeks, during which time you are checked into a hotel, allowed only a couple of supervised phone calls per day, and you get to kiss goodbye to any form of access to local media, including the internet.

Upon realising all this panic struck, but after rummaging through all the possible excuses that I could use to get out of it, I finally decided that I was going to do my civil duty and turn up.

So here I am, waiting in the court's corridor with another hundred or so people. We're all waiting to be called in for our fate to be decided. Most are pacing around nervously, some wishing to get selected just for the experience, and the others wishing they're not, because let's face it, it's a bugger!

Earlier this morning, most of us had to wade through flooded roads to make it to Valletta on time. I for one called to notify the court that I might be fifteen minutes late; some of the men are still drying off their suits, and a woman is so upset at the idea of having to leave her young son at home, that she's crying her eyes out.

An hour has passed and nothing has happened - so much for worrying about being fifteen minutes late ha?

No one has come out of the courtroom to explain the delay, and no one has offered so much as a glass of water. We're all trying to figure out which case we've been summoned for, but several inquiries later, we're none the wiser.

So we wait, and wait and wait some more. There's not enough place for all of us to sit, and we could all murder for a coffee. I need to visit the ladies room, but if I leave my seat I know that I will not find it upon my return. So I shift and slide on the bench holding it in as astutely as I can, but you can only fight nature for so long.

I can see smokers jumping out of their skins holding unlit cigarettes between their fingers, and a couple of women are desperately looking at their watches. I'm seriously considering making a run for it.

Another hour has passed and I can't hold it anymore. I decide to give up my prised seat and rush to the toilet. One glance inside the door and my reflexes tell me to hold my breath, touch nothing, and do my thing as quickly as humanely possible. This is where my African toilets experience comes in handy.

As I walk out of what can be literally described as a s**t hole, my bladder has been relieved, but I'm now suffering from a mild case of asphyxia from holding my breath for so long. Naively I walk back to my seat, but as expected, it's now occupied by two men who have somehow squeezed into the space of a petite butt.

Luckily I find a ledge to rest on, and proceed to wait some more. Another hour has passed, and still no one has come forth with an explanation. None of us know what's happening, what's about to happen, and what's taking so long.

Another hour has gone by, that's three hours since I got here, and still nothing... just ample time to regain my breath I guess.

Finally, something seems to be happening. We're being moved to another corridor, in front of another court room, but the reason for this is still shrouded in mystery. Once again, we have nowhere to sit and hardly any space to move around.

Three court marshals have just come through pompously asking us to make way for the Judge to pass. He goes through to the court room but we are left outside waiting. We wait, we wait, with baited breath, pacing around like cats on hot bricks. It can't be much longer now.

Finally, we're being called into the court room.

[Switch off all contacts to the world]

Fifteen minutes later, and I'm back....here's what happened in there:

In the tiny courtroom we stood, all of us looking as pale as death itself. Surprisingly the Judge took the time to apologise for the delay and to thank us for our patience.

In full view and earshot of the accused, names and surnames started to be randomly drawn out of a list. Once a name was called out, the defence lawyer asked the potential juror where he or she worked. After that, the two lawyers decided whether to keep that juror or to object to him or her being on the panel. An objection by one of the lawyers meant that you're home free.

All the potential jurors whose name hadn't been drawn yet were all thinking the same thing – 'maybe, just maybe, I will be spared this time round.' I could see most of them crossing their fingers behind their backs.

My name hadn't been drawn yet, and I was thinking that I might get to go home soon. I was starving, desperate for a coffee, and because I didn't have the stomach to use the toilet a second time, my body was about to take matters into its own hands.

In a desperate attempt to distract my bladder from acquiring a life of its own, I let my mind wander away....

Why are there no windows in this joint?

Did I switch off the bathroom heater this morning?

Which level of the car park did I park my car?

Wow! The accused is good looking.

And then... I heard my name being called out.

I walked to the middle of the court room, waited for the questions to start, and desperately hoped for one of the lawyers to object to my selection.

In the meantime however I was still wandering ...

....why is it so absolutely necessary that the accused knows my name, my surname, what I do for a living and where to find me between the hours of 9am to 5pm?

But before I could figure out an answer, I heard it - the sweet sound of the prosecuting lawyer!

'I object', she said, and before I knew it I was being whisked off to the back of the room and out the door.

Ahhh...I've been spared this time around, so life continues as I know it.

...until the next time of course!