I’m originally a northerner, I was born in Bradford and grew up in Lincolnshire. My family opened a restaurant in Skegness, and I went into the family business. My parents weren’t too concerned about education, business was a way of life. I was expected to continue to follow that path.

I left school without any qualifications. Then, after four years in business, I decided it was not enough. I felt compelled to get an education. My family were sceptical about my chances of success, but I was determined and took the bold move to move down to London to study.

My route into law was unconventional, but I became an inspiration for my family. I broke barriers, becoming the first graduate in my family. Most people on my law course dropped out or transferred in first year, and by the end only a very small group pursued a career in law. I’m privileged to be part of that group and I think that says a lot about determination.

I found confidence in advocacy. I was called to the Bar in 2002, then reality hit as to how hard it is to get into the profession. It was an arena for the white, middle-class and Oxbridge educated. As an Asian, I was lucky to get interviews as a pupil. There was no one to give me advice on getting into that profession.

My working-class background also meant I had to adapt. I walked into a cohort of people who spoke and carried themselves differently. I buried my northern accent. That was part and parcel of the culture then.

It was a bit of a culture shock. At the Bar, you have to attend a number of dinners before you can qualify. The benchers (judges) would come in and take their positions and everyone would stand and sit according to them. There’s a whole etiquette around how you dine. It was a learning experience, but culturally enriching.

As a profession, we’re changing all the time – but more needs to be done. Representation is improving, even in chambers. But there is still very little representation of Black and Asian people in the judiciary, with little appetite for change.

By that time, I was married, and I knew I had to get a job to pay off my bar school loans. I went into the local authority as a social services lawyer and worked there for four years, before cross-qualifying as a solicitor.

You can qualify just as easily in-house as you can outside. I advise a lot of people looking to get a training contract to consider the public route. I’m always open to advising people and trying to mentor them, to give the experience that I had in entering the profession.

Recruitment and retention is important. As a senior lawyer, I had to manage and recognise skills in people. If someone had a passion for advocacy, I would get them into court more often, give them incentives to stay on and say they have something to offer.

After about nine years in-house, I wanted a change. I started looking towards private practice. I was nervous about making the move – I wasn’t quite sure how it would pan out – but a friend from Bar school who was an entrepreneur and owned a multi-million dollar fast track company, made a compelling offer to head his legal team.

Working in private practice made it feel possible to set up my own firm. I practised in an area of law where people were not risk averse and they set up companies on a regular basis. The CEO encouraged me to step out on my own and assured me that he would refer work. This gave me confidence that I would have a revenue source during those early years as I built up the business. I then went on to set up my own firm in 2014.

As a small firm owner, you get independence and freedom. But you have to be a multi-disciplinary practitioner to survive. I tried with partnerships, but it was difficult because people have different ideas of what the firm should look like. Some just wanted to walk in and take a cut without really putting in as much investment as I had, and others simply did not have the same expertise or work ethic.

You push the boundaries of risk when you own your own firm. When you need some collaboration, there’s no one to turn to. You try not to turn away work, but some things you have to stay away from. I used consultants, but they took a big share of the revenue from cases and then left me with managing the risk of whatever they’d done.

In the end it wasn’t worth it. Running your own firm can be lonely. It comes with risks that push boundaries. I missed the camaraderie and having colleagues to brainstorm complex matters with. You’re working 24 hours; you’re clocked in all the time. Even when you’re being social, you’re thinking about business you can get.

Four years later, I was worn out. Money wasn’t the problem, I had built a strong practice, but physically I was drained and needed more time to spend with my family. I moved back to Lambeth as a senior lawyer and I immersed myself in childcare work again, before moving onto join Luton Borough Council as a Principal Lawyer.

I set up a charity over a decade ago to build schools in Tanzania. My legal experience transcended the courtroom, creating a lasting impact on communities in need. We started by investing a small amount into building a school in Zanzibar. The first school, funded at around £30,000, was just the beginning.

I soon realised we needed to do more. Our focus changed, and I channelled my business acumen from the legal world into cultivating a specialism in water drilling. Today, our charity operates efficiently with dedicated local staff, delivering the precious resource of water to approximately 90,000 people daily.