I did jury service when I lived in London. It was the time Barry George was to be tried for the murder of Jill Dando, and I was convinced I was going to be called for that, but would've be ineligible because she had been a customer of mine. I was also worried I'd miss my holiday.
I ended up doing two trials, one each week. The first was an aggravated burglary, and was quite straightforward, as he was as guilty as sin.
The second trial was a woman accused of GBH on a camera woman from SKY, who was filming Prince Andrew's visit to the London Eye. The woman and her two grown up children were trying to get to the ferry to Greenwich, which her kids had booked for her birthday treat.
I was elected foreman of the jury. Basically all eleven of the other jurors thought the woman was guilty beyond reasonable doubt, and I thought she was innocent.
We had to tell the judge we couldn't reach a majority verdict, then I had to stand up and tell the court we'd found her guilty. It was one of the hardest things I've had to do, and I felt like shouting out to the woman that I believed her!
The strangest thing about jury service is the seperation. You are kept away from anyone to do with your trial, you even eat in a seperate juror's dining room. Seperate that is until a recess is called. Then if you're a smoker you find yourself outside having a fag with the accused and all the witnesses.