To me there is nothing as fascinating as a courtroom. For a reporter that's where the story brings itself to a dramatic and revealing finish; where the clogs of truth and justice turn in harmony; where the criminals meet their nemesis in the form of a cloaked judge in a pompous wig.

For the past few weeks I have been at the Old Bailey - the first criminal court of justice in the country.

A majestic building in the City, it is surprisingly small in appearance. Once destroyed in the Great Fire of London, it was rebuilt with just one courtroom and half of this was actually in the open air. This was later changed, and now the building is home to 17 court rooms of which the most famous is Court One, the oldest, and where the trials of earth-shattering importance are held.

I have been half way up this scale, in Court seven, for a trial which is expected to last for weeks. As this was my first trial at the Old Bailey I was not entirely sure what to expect or how much pomp and ceremony would still surround 21st century legal proceedings.

The courtroom itself was tiny. Barristers were cramped up next to their solicitors, who had to struggle round clerks to their seats. The jury had to shuffle past rows of desks piled high with legal files to their benches; journalists sat almost shoulder to shoulder with the jurors and were close enough to the defendants to see every tear shed.

But what the room lacked in size it made up for in ceremony. With at least six or seven wigs in the room at a time, there were bows and calls of "my learned friend" left, right and centre. Because of course, no-one can refer to anybody without their ceremoneous title - such as "my right honorable friend" or "my lord". If the critics who mourn the loss of the English language were to step into such a courtroom they would be thrown right back into the world of Charles Dickens. No drinks are allowed in the courtroom, bare arms are a no-no and, of course, mobile phones would undoubtedly lead to incarceration.

Jury trials can be somewhat unpredictable and so far I have been lucky. It is not unusual for hours or even days to be lost to legal arguments, unavailability of witnesses or juror sickness.

But the hardest bit for a reporter is what to include in our 300-word summary of events. It is impossible to do the prosecution and defence lawyers justice in these few short sentences, especially with numerous witnesses, cross examinations and bundles of evidence to sift through.

So, in my closing argument, I would advise everyone to go along and have a peek at the scales of justice in motion. For the most interesting aspects of a courtroom usually go unprinted, but are well worth your judgement.