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The Thing sometimes lurks there. People from overseas jurisdictions arguing for the right to carry out a sentence of capital punishment.
But here I am in Court 3, where the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council sits. Behind me is a picture frame that looks like a giant rib cage after the heart within it exploded.
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Are you prepared to catch me if I fall?
That is the first line of a poem written by a prisoner in the latest copy of Allies, the newsletter of the charity Prisoners Abroad - 'caring for Britons held overseas and their families'. (Not normally death row cases.)
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The Thing isn't here today. In Cukurova Finance International Limited and another v Alfa Telecom Turkey Limited, the latter lent the former $1.352 billion; it went wrong and the finance company claims that it was stitched up in the New York courts. I've been programmed to feel sick every time I hear the words 'Deutsche Bank' so I'm not having a great time.
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When I leave, the sound of the celebratory peal of bells from the Abbey smashes against the hard surfaces of Westminster and bounces off again. A birth. Funny old world. Still got people in it like Clive Stafford Smith and all the other death row campaigners with perpetually exploding hearts.