Georgina Noakes and Imogen Rumbold do lunch

It is a beautiful Spring day in the City of London as we head for Prism, a restaurant dwarfed beneath cathedral like ceilings and Corinthian pillars at the old Bank of New York building in Leadenhall Street.

We arrive and are led into what can only be described as a chilly back passage, adjacent to the bar and restaurant. Big mistake. We quickly agree this is not an environment conducive to a relaxed lunch. We wait whilst a table is prepared in the restaurant next door.

Three waiters usher us to our seats, flap napkins and bring glasses of champagne. Now we can relax and ponder over the easy menu of five starters and five main courses. The choice is simple for us both. Foie gras terrine with leek and truffles and an oriental relish, followed by seared tuna (well done for Imogen, rare to raw for me) with smoked anchovy salad and paprika oil.

Imogen Rumbold is clearly interested in and loves the company of other people. Her niche dry shipping practice perfectly suits her. "I have down to earth shipping clients who want results. They want to like you but also to know that you can deliver. I love the international element of the work, the range of foreign clients and that, at the end of the day, my job is about people, people, people."

A frequent opponent describes Imogen as: "An acceptable face of litigation. She does not take silly points or waste client's money on arguing the unarguable. Imogen is a good person to have on the other side - from her client's and the opposition's point of view."

Imogen speaks fluent French & Italian, "I can't bear being abroad and not to understand what people are saying", she explains over the foie gras. Imogen's desire to communicate led to her to choose a degree in French and Law at Sussex University but it was during her childhood that she first needed to speak in a language different to her mother tongue-Swahili.

Born in New Zealand, her father was in the Colonial Service which led Imogen to spend much of her childhood in Kenya and Zanzibar. "Zanzibar is known as the clove island. What I remember most about it are the smells and tastes and the sounds of the street traders. The coffee seller would juggle coffee cups in his hands and sing a song to you. Hot spicy meat cakes and fish were also on sale. It was an exotic and colourful place to live."

Imogen describes her own life and career as "an unplanned economy", a series of accidental happenings that led from being sent to boarding school in England to following her Father's footsteps into the law.

"After being called to the Bar, my Father arranged an introduction to 7 Kings Bench Walk Chambers. It was there I met Stephen Tomlinson, who got me as his first pupil and introduced me to the world of shipping, arbitration and nice lunches."

Today we are being abstemious. Both of us have meetings later on, and Imogen is fighting off the flu, so we know this is not going to be a boozy lunch. (Not this time anyway). So we both choose a glass of wine, Imogen a Tasmanian red and a Bordeaux for me.

Imogen was fortunate to get the opportunity to work with the great arbitrator, Cedric Barclay who, following a stroke, needed a right hand. "This meant getting paid and learning all about shipping for two and a half years."

"I had already realised that to be a shipping barrister you had to be super brainy. Whilst I think that I have some brains, I felt my talents lay in using them more practically and in client relations. So after Cedric, moving to becoming a solicitor was an obvious choice. Had I known what I know now, I would have always been a shipping solicitor."

Imogen applied, was accepted and settled happily at Lawrence Graham, where she remains eighteen years later, having been a partner since 1991. The firm has a reputation for working hard and playing hard with a big respect for life outside of work.

This ethos no doubt provided the necessary support for Imogen to have her three children, now aged three and a half, eight and thirteen. "As far as clients are concerned, maternity leave should be nothing more than a minor irritation. They should not even notice you are away," says Imogen in her matter of fact way. But having a baby cannot exactly be described as a sabbatical. "Nurturing babies and the usual, childish bed time rituals certainly bring you down to earth" she sighs.

"When she can't get what she wants, my youngest daughter Lucy sounds like Tosca about to go over the battlements. Really tragic. Leaving her parents' nerves jangling and minds racked with guilt as we try to settle in front of the telly after a demanding day at the office."

"Week-ends are the time for family meals and play on Wandsworth Common." Imogen and her husband Nick, who also works in shipping, live in South London, in the heart of what is known as Nappy Valley, a haven for working professionals with small children.

Imogen rarely takes work home and the fact that she has successfully juggled a busy home life with a demanding career lies in the secret of drawing a clear line between the two. "Home is home and work is work," she says firmly, "and they don't mix (much)."

To protect our respective waist-lines we decide against pudding in anticipation of the petit fours with coffee. So when only two small squares of fudge arrive we cannot contain our astonishment. Four more squares are duly brought to the table before we head out into the Spring sunshine.