MURIEL Jobling MBE remembers with amusement her first Law Society dinner when women were herded into a room behind a curtain to protect their delicate sensibilities from ribald after-dinner speeches.

“We were put in a little room off the main area with some coffee where we could hear what was going on, but not be seen,” says the 92-year-old lawyer, from Burnley.

“There were five women. We just had to get on with it. I was never a vocal feminist because I didn’t need to be. I was accepted, but I didn’t push my luck.”

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Women were not allowed to train as solicitors until 1919, but Muriel, whose father and uncle were lawyers, was determined from the age of five to join them in the family business.

“The first women counsel were coming through and I had a large number of aunts and uncles and I would hear the conversations. They’d ask me ‘are you going to be a solicitor like your daddy’. They said it wouldn’t be possible and because they said that, I had to do it.”

Although the family’s law business, Jobling, Jobling and Knape (it is now Southerns) dated back to the middle of the 19th century, Muriel’s father and uncle were dead against her becoming a solicitor.

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“They said there were no opportunities for women solicitors at that time and it was true. You couldn’t advertise, you’d be struck off. A woman couldn’t go into a bar and drink without being misunderstood. So they recommended I went into local government.”

So at 16, straight out of boarding school, that’s what Muriel did, or tried to do. The job was based at York City Hall and came with the promise of being able to study for articles. She was delighted. But the offer was withdrawn when her prospective employers realised that there were no ladies toilet facilities in the legal department at York City Hall.

So instead she joined the family business, based at its Burnley office, on the day after war was declared.

“So I did my articles with the family firm whether they liked it or not. There were no university courses. I was too young. So I did all my legal studies by correspondence course for seven years after doing a full day’s work in the office.”

In fact, when all the male staff were called up to fight, Muriel was left running the business with her father and a typist.

“My cousin also worked in the office and she and I were given a stirrup pump and night watching duties once a fortnight. We had to sleep in the office.”

Although Muriel would have enjoyed the experience of joining the WAAF, her father fell ill and she had to stay at home to run the business. As a result she was allowed to take her law finals early, but was not recognised by the professional body for 18 months because she was too young.

When she did start to practise she was involved with family law. “I come from the era where you looked after your clients from cradle to grave. You took in everybody and anybody off the street and they remained your friends for years to come.”

Some solicitors struggled to accept a young woman in the profession. One visitor refused to speak to a “clerk” and was made to apologise to Muriel on discovering she was as qualified as he.

It did work to her advantage though as she got numerous opportunities to be the “statutory woman”.

“When I was 30, they made a law that said every committee had to have a statutory woman. As a result I’ve had opportunities in every government department and part time jobs from the national parole board because there weren’t many women around. I’ve had a good innings,” she laughs.

She also worked as a volunteer for the Girl Guides for 29 years and became the Commonwealth HQ adviser for the movement.

Muriel was also a founder of Pendleside Hospice, which was built after years of fundraising 26 years ago.

“I had experience of the lack of facilities available for people with terminal illness. I was on Lancashire Health Authority for eight years. There was a cry for a hospice and people were suffering. I got mad when one of my cleaners got an awful facial cancer and I visited her in a little cupboard off one of the main wards at Burnley. Everyone was clamouring for a hospice.

“I chaired two public meetings to see if there was support and before I knew it I was in the chair leading seven and a half years of fundraising.”

To professionals who know her, Muriel is addressed by her title of Miss Jobling. She never married. It was not a conscious decision, more a question of timing.

“You don’t meet the right person at the right time do you?” she says. “ I worked in a predominantly male dominated world so I didn’t lack companionship. When breathalysers came in I was very popular because I wasn’t a big drinker.

“I’m not anti-marriage. A good marriage is the best thing there is, but I became an expert on divorce law because there weren’t very many women around.

“I think the profession has become too commercial and I’m glad I worked for the family business when I did. We looked after people and made friends with them. I still get birthday cards from some. There were fixed fees when I was practising so you didn’t have an argument. You could sell a house for £1 11/6d. I’m glad I’m not practising in this era.”

She was awarded an MBE for service to the community in June 1994. She also has the lifetime title of Deputy Lieutenant of Lancashire, although the Queen has now decreed that at 75 you become supernumerary – “you get invited to the jollies but you don’t have to perform duties.”

But she recently received an accolade which came as a big surprise. It was a lifetime achievement award from the Law Society for 70 years service. “It’s a very nice letter and certificate. Everyone says I should write a book about my life and I say no ‘I’ll do six Carry On films’ instead.

“I’ve had a very good innings and a very good life,” she laughs.