Friday 22nd December, 2017

Well well here we are.  The end of another year and much to my surprise I got quite a few contributions to last week’s Christmas competition.  

 

The first response, from an old friend who has clearly managed his affairs much more sensibly than me and has been able to retire, seemed to confirm my suspicions that this was a challenge to which not many would feel the urge to rise.

 

Do you know even in my more relaxed state these days I’m going to eschew a limerick competition where Triffid or Dyfed would likely feature.

Happy Xmas to you and all the family.

 

Others are made of sterner stuff albeit, at the risk of appearing a touch pompous, I would observe that you all have a slight problem capturing the true rhythm of the limerick.  Lear will be wincing in his grave.  But putting that to one side the winner is this effort mainly for the pun:

 

It used to be simple to do

Provide research and get paid a few

But new rules must be met

And though we’re very upset

Our clients, they’re probably miffed too.

 

Other commendable contributions:

 

I remember the glory days well   

Our service was easy to sell

Now commissions are limper

From Big Bang to a whimper

Mifid 2 is ringing the bell. 

 

 

There was an old broker from Threadneedle Street 

A nicer man you couldn't hope to meet 

Upon the advent of Mifid2 

The air at lunch went blue 

And the rest is control alt delete

 

There once was an author called John
Who imagined plants blocking the sun

He baptised them Triffid

Created a hell just like Mifid

And made all the brokers shout ‘run’

 

 

Oh Mifid2,

It makes us blue.

We need it 

Just like a stone in our shoe.

Cave, cave

The blessed EU...

 

This one didn’t doesn’t even pretend to be a limerick, but I rather liked it….

 

“What’s the point of MIFID2”

He said to me, “And I ask you.

D’you think in Spain, Italy or France

They’ll give it e’en a second glance?”

 

And lastly, before they get a little too blue-blooded….

 

There was fine old boy in EC2

Who hadn’t a clue what to do

In scope, out of scope?

There really doesn’t seem much hope.

Lets all raise two fingers to MIFID2

 

Yup.  Thinking about it most of the others are frankly unprintable.  Of course it’s a touchy subject and feelings are running high, but I have little doubt the rest had been written after or perhaps during a good session in the pub last Friday lunchtime if that sort of thing is still allowed these days.

 

Whether or not this is appropriate I will leave you to be the judge.  Underneath our Christmas tree are two presents tied together and bearing an intriguing label which reads.. “Dearest Jimmy, Merry Christmas with lots of love, Felix and Mummy”.  I spotted the package during one of my regular evening trawls prodding the prezzie pile.   Even though he is one of the good guys I felt compelled to ask Sophie why she and Jimmy’s boyfriend were given our second daughter a present together.  It transpires that other day Felix dropped Sophie a WhatsApp message saying he knew what he wanted to get Jimmy for Christmas, and that she would definitely love it, but being quite a lot over his budget he wondered if Sophie might like to go halves on it with him.  If you promise not to tell Jimmy…..it’s a set of silk underwear.  How good is that?!  In a millennials world perhaps there is nothing especially outlandish at this practical solution to a budgetary problem, but I’m not sure it’s an idea that would have gone down well with my future in laws back in the day!

 

Talking of Jimmy, she’s just sent me this.  Made me smile anyway.

 

 

 

My Christmas present to myself was 6 cases of cheap provincial Italian made from grapes cultivated on the hillside of an extinct volcano in the Cilento National Park.  Alas the trailer that the wine and three bottles of exquisite limoncello were sent over on has been impounded by British customs. Sebastiano, who sold me the wine tells me, there was contraband tobacco in the consignment too.  So it could be a dry old Christmas I’m sad to say.

 

Before I go though I have one more message for you.  Admire its form and structure:

 

You’ll be worried, I know, what to do

With the Bodhi Tree and Mifid2?

Insubstantial, but fun

Doesn’t suit everyone,

Do you want me to send it to you?

 

LET ME KNOW!

 

And on that note I’m rushing out on a panicked mission in the general direction of Jo Malone.  Wishing you and yours a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year when it comes.

Friday 15th December, 2017

Ever since it worked for me and I got lucky in an Old Course ballot when it was imperative I secured a tee time for a round with my Japanese boss I have kept a keen eye out for a penny on the pavement.  I recall exactly where I found that one. On the walkway from the St James Centre in Edinburgh leading across the road over to Baillie Gifford’ office.  

 

You will know the old adage obviously. “See a penny, pick it up and all day long you’ll have good luck”.  Of course, not only do you need a keen eye to spot them, and they are rare enough, especially in Edinburgh, but you need to do so at an opportune moment.  It is quite easy to catch ones fellow pedestrians unaware regardless of how adroitly one swoops to the ground to retrieve ones find. The happy combination of these circumstances are as hard to come by as hens teeth. 

 

Last Friday however I was trudging along Old Broad Street on my way in from Liverpool Street station when joy of joys I spotted a little blighter and the opportunity presented itself.  It was raining and dark and a delayed train meant I was running a bit late, but there was no one directly behind me so gleefully I plucked the coin out of the puddle it was resting in and popped it in my pocket happy in the knowledge my day was made.  Perhaps another client would sign a research agreement or maybe I would go and buy a lottery ticket I mused.  By midday however I couldn’t say anything out of the ordinary had occurred though I was relieved that the client, who had called in to cancel the arrangement we had made to lunch the following Monday, was able to bring it forward to that very day.  And I managed to get a table at short notice at Wright Brothers.  So fish and chips at the desk was at least avoided and we were having a pleasant lunch, but churlish though it may sound neither of these were quite on a par with a round on the Old. At risk of boring my lunch companion I started to tell him about that mornings find and reached into my slightly gritty pocket to display it. Thank goodness I hadn’t got round to buying a lottery ticket. It was a dime. What are the odds of that on Old Broad Street. Just a hop skip and a jump away from the Bank of England too. 

 

There is a postscript if one were needed for this lame little story. I was in Edinburgh on Wednesday night and caught up with an old friend for dinner at the New Club. My first return to the Club since an incident there with an old buffer which culminated with me singing him a song from HMS Pinafore to prove how good my memory was.   I had learnt my lines as Captain Corcoran at prep school in 1976. I digress.  There I was waiting outside the Clubs front door on Princes Street having buzzed for entry when on the pavement I spotted, indisputably, a penny.  The second one I have ever found in Scotland and quite probably a New Club members coin too. Hurrah for that.  I had a lovely evening and felt lucky enough for that to be honest.

 

I’ve had a torrid old week though with regards to our favourite topic MIFID2, but the good thing about the new regulatory environment is that as everything will be above board post January 3^rd 2018 it shouldn’t be a problem if I popped round early in the New Year with a lavish prize for the winner of this years Christmas competition.  YES.   COMPETITION TIME!!!  Your challenge if you care to accept it is to write a limerick incorporating the words MiFID 2.  I’ll try to come up with one too.  Let the mind roam free and may your fingers effortlessly trip out something witty and hilarious. 

 

Talking of MiFID this might just be the penultimate Bodhi Tree you’ll ever get if you don’t get signed up with us to receive this substantive and opinionated drivel so with that happy thought I’m off for dinner in London with Jimmy and her boyfriend.  Pip pip.

Friday 8th December, 2017

 

Brief update for you from France if you care.  I think it’s fair to say Hen has been slightly twiddling her fingers this last month or so, faced with a bit of a conundrum.  Not that she hasn’t kept herself reasonably busy.  She knows the hillsides surrounding Rennes-les-Bain like the back of her hands scouring them daily for mushrooms which she tries to sell in the local markets.  And then there’s always the wildlife to look out for.  I was talking to her yesterday as it happens when suddenly she broke off with an exclamation of shock.  “Blinking heck, there’s an otter crossing the river.  Or maybe it’s a beaver?  Or a squirrel perhaps.”  I asked her what size it was.  “Hmmmm….its about the length of a ruler.”  Really??  We concluded it was most likely a weasel or possibly a stoat, which many mistake for a weasel even though, wait for it, it’s totally different.   

The conundrum is that she wants to head south for the winter, but before that she needs the weather to break and the leaves fall for the opportunity of a job working in the vineyards pruning vines which will help pay for the petrol to drive 1,000 miles to the south west of Portugal!  Well the weather has broken.  Here’s a photo she sent last weekend…

 

 

 

Meanwhile developments concerning animals in another woodland area provided one of the great BBC headlines….more than 150 homes have been destroyed and 50,000 people evacuated but the good news…….

 

 

 

It’s not all a bed of roses in my world either I might tell you.  I went home earlier this week having decided, on the way back, to bake a cake that evening.  I had glimpsed a recipe for a delicious looking flourless orange almond cake in the Polpo cook book.  I don’t know about you, but I find it ever so irritating when someone looks over your shoulder when you’re working in the kitchen.  But she just couldn’t help it.  “Have you checked the measurements properly” Sophie said “I really don’t think you have”.  Pah I thought to myself ploughing on regardless and perhaps even more cavalierly chucking ingredients into a mixing bowl.  The consequence of chucking the additional 400 grams of  sugar which was meant to make a sticky syrup to pour over the cake into the mix combined with the fact I used three large tablespoons of baking powder instead one teaspoonful was an explosion in the Aga and a sticky burnt mess which we ( I mean Sophie ) is still trying to clear up three days later.  You pay for these unlucky little slips ups you really do.

 

On a happier note I got this message yesterday from a lovely person in our corporate access team in HK who I had been able supply with timely and comprehensive feedback from the various meetings we had organised for some clients at our recent Japan Forum.  

Thanks David! Please visit Asia soon!!

 

I might just do that if Sophie doesn’t stop banging on about my cake.

Friday 1st December, 2017

Slightly early one, but don’t get the wrong idea.  I just wanted to get this off to you in case I am a bit distracted later on.

 

Travelling home the other evening I got out of my seat, as is my want, to stand and stretch a bit during the final leg of the train journey from Audley End to Whittlesford Parkway.  This has the added advantage of meaning I am always first off the train, into my car and out of the station car park.  Anyway, as I stood there by the door my attention was attracted by a man furiously typing a letter on his lap top.  I really couldn’t help it, but through the window between us I was able to read what he was writing.  Now you would expect me to turn away and get back to my exercises and of course that’s essentially what I did, but not before I inadvertently gleaned that he was writing to a school-teacher to complain that his daughter was being picked on by a nasty little boy called Robert.  I left him to his epistle thinking what a horrid, horrid situation.  That said I probably wouldn’t have given it much more thought except that I stumbled just now, in a search for inspiration for something to tell you at the end of what has been a rather dull week, on a story I told you back in 2005. It’s a weird one, but true.  Here it is:

 

 

Friday 25^th November, 2005

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard of Alphabetical Bullying before. Neither had I, but this disturbing social phenomenon was articulated to me the other evening by my 5 year old daughter, Lottie. She bore the tell-tale sign - a nasty scratch on her cheek - of yet another grapple with one of our cats. You would think she would have learnt by now. She has been told off enough times for manhandling them by her parents as well as by the creatures themselves. I chastised her yet again, but, looking grumpy and affronted, she protested. "It wasn’t Pickle or Flowerpot.  It happened at school. Charles attacked me in the playground."

Well, of course, I couldn’t imagine such a thing would ever happen at the sweet little prep school we sent our baby darlings, but playing along with her I asked her why Charles had been so mean. 

"He doesn't like girls whose name starts with L" was her response. "He always attacks Lillie and Laetitia too".

"Oh dear me", I said sympathetically, " I hope there aren't any other bullying boys at your school."

"There are." she said. " Alexander......he doesn't like girls whose name begins with S".

She followed this with the name of yet another thug who apparently targets the J's.

By now I was beginning to accept perhaps she hadn’t been molesting the cats but still somewhat sceptically I asked her if any letter was safe. She didn’t even blink.

"If you’re an M that's ok......Mary never gets beaten up."

 

At the risk of turning this missive into something substantive I have a tip for you for 2018.  Keep a diary.  You never know when it will pay you back, but surely, every now and again, it will do.  Mind you I’m now wondering what has happened to Charles and Alexander.  Hmmm.  I think I’ll get Lottie, Lillie and Laetitia ( who remain Lottie’s best friends ) to track them down.