I know the idea for the name of my ridiculous Friday missive was a wee bit pompous, implying as it does that reading it will render you with all manner of deep and meaningful insights. Of course we all know, Nomura’s research aside, that’s rubbish, but there are some weeks when, if my scribblings remain as unenlightening as ever, the title is at least pertinent. For example you might remember when Jimmy was on her GAP year and I was kind of hoping that with three months to spend in India she might just find the time to head along to Bodhgaya to see the Bodhi Tree? I was all set to get quite poetic and emotional about that, but it never happened of course. Her “tour” of India essentially involved four or five weeks lying on a beach in the Andaman Islands and the rest of the time spent flitting between various shabby Himalayan hostels.
And whilst on the subject of Buddhism I don’t think I even told you about my last trip up to Edinburgh with an Indian corporate. The delightful gentleman I was introducing was sitting cross-legged on the boardroom floor of one of Scotland’s finest investment institutions teaching me the basic principles of Pranayama when the client, who I had never met before, entered the room. So that was a good start to our relationship.
Getting to the point, last night I was in reflective mood when I got home and sought out a dark blue velvet lined box of CD’s which I must admit I hadn’t listened to for a while. There was a gathering of the young in the kitchen – ogling our litter of two week old lurcher pups – who looked dubiously at me as I struggled with the CD player. So I set them a challenge offering a fiver to any of them if they could guess the relevance of the music I was about to put on? That shut them up.
A pleasant melodic tinkling of the ivories in the style of jazz filled the room. Instantly Bob’s girlfriend said “Someone has died”. I could have argued that she didn’t know who, but I reckoned that would be churlish of me. So anyway once Ella had got over celebrating her good fortune, I allowed myself a rare mid week glass of wine and we all stood for a while listening to the music composed by His Majesty King Bhumibol Adulyadej. Bob was born when we lived in Bangkok, will be going to Thailand at some point on his GAP year and we still have lovely Thai friends there. So this was a poignant moment and I suppose I kind of patted myself on the back for injecting a little spirituality into proceedings before we settled back to arguing who was going to get to keep which puppy and whether or not it was appropriate to smother the delicious shepherd’s pie I had made with tomato ketchup.
Talking about spirituality and reflection, just before I heard of the King’s death yesterday, I went for a nostalgic walk up to Leadenhall Market, which was on the doorstep of the offices at 8 Bishopsgate of Baring Brothers & Co. Ltd with whom I began my “career” in the City a few years back. Apart from noticing with horror that the butcher in Leadenhall Market had closed down I was in mellow mood by the time I wandered into Waterstones for a book browsing session. I came out with a fascinating one which I am already ploughing through and must recommend it : No Picnic on Mount Kenya by Felice Benuzzi. Quite the most eccentric and charming book I have read in a long time. It’s also spawned an idea for one I might write myself one day but that’s another story.
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