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It is with overwhelming sadness that I write October 2024’s editorial. I am sure that most people reading this will have heard
the news about Simon Mullings. Spike, as he was often known, was a family friend and colleague of mine for 30 years. It was a privilege to know him in both a personal and a professional capacity.
I have so many stories of the way our families’ lives have woven together over those years, but that isn’t for now. Here, I want to focus on Simon as an incredible housing lawyer and social justice warrior.
Simon’s journey to law started with a LAG handbook. He had applied for a job at Edwards Duthie Shamash Solicitors (then E Edwards Son & Noice) as a housing caseworker and wanted to ‘gen up’ for the interview. I sent him the now long-out-of-print Emergency Procedures Handbook and I recall a few phone calls talking him through the complexities of housing law. But once he had got the job, the rest he did on his own. Self-taught, he developed an impressive housing practice, with cases in the Court of Appeal and the Supreme Court. He loved the detail of the law, the intellectual challenge.
However, I think Simon was best known for his work at the coalface of housing law, digging and chipping away at the edges, at unscrupulous landlord practices and unlawful policies, making the law better for those most vulnerable in our communities. He had a natural empathy with his clients, he was loved by his colleagues and respected by all who worked with him.
It was Simon’s idea for us to write
Housing Possession Duty Desk – a practical guide together; he wanted us to share our experience and knowledge. We often talked about duty cases, how the procedure could be improved, the challenges, as well as the highs (!) of a busy duty list – the feeling of leaving court and knowing that you had made a difference, that people had kept their homes that day. Simon (I think) has the record for the most cases in one day – an unbelievable 21!
It was a joy to write with Simon. With a first-class degree in English and a love of language, Simon would craft long, flowery sentences whereas mine were short. As we exchanged our chapters for editing, he would add words to my sentences, and I would take his out. It made us laugh. I loved the way he would explain a complex area of housing law and then start a new sentence with ‘that said’ – and provide all the exceptions to that rule.
It was Simon’s idea to create the pamphlet
Legal Aid Matters, bringing together 70 legal aid cases to celebrate the 70th year of the enactment of the Legal Aid Act 1948. He spoke in the House of Commons at the launch of the pamphlet, which he told the
Law Society Gazette was
a ‘career high’ of his. We then went on to edit
Justice Matters: essays from the pandemic with the Justice Alliance – pulling him into the campaigning world in which he so vehemently excelled. He was passionate about legal aid; he understood its worth.
A natural performer, borne of his days in the 80s band The Snapdragons, he also loved to teach. It combined his love of being on stage with his passion for sharing knowledge. It was delightful to see him in action, teasing and teaching young lawyers.
Simon was a very dear friend of mine, and also of LAG, with his writing, campaigning and sharing of wisdom. He was the rarest of people: kind, funny and clever, combined with a boundless energy and compassion to improve the lives of others. He really was the best of us. He will be greatly missed.
Donations in memory of Simon can be made to the
Magpie Project in Forest Gate, a charity dear to Simon, dedicated to supporting vulnerable mothers and children under five who are facing difficult circumstances, such as temporary accommodation or homelessness. They provide a safe and welcoming space where mothers can receive advice on housing, healthcare and other essential services.