Friday 9th November, 2012

Two unfeasibly large cans of Zippo lighter fuel surprisingly arrived on our front door step at home last week. It transpires that Bob ordered these having discovered that I had set up one click shopping on Amazon. Precisely what purpose he has in mind I know not, but for the moment it would appear I got off lightly. A friend of mine told me he knew someone who ended up with a 125cc rally cross motorbike through a similar misadventure. Well, relaying this story last night, I may have stumbled upon a soul mate for Bob. I was with a friend to watch a "play", Simon Callow in The Mystery of Charles Dickens....go David, another winner. It's not a play really. More of a monologue. If you want to listen to someone recounting a protracted and frankly pretty boring bedtime story whilst you sit in a cramped seat in a stuffy theatre ( inevitably with some large uncouth yob behind you coughing their insides out ) this one is for you. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes. Well would you credit it, but my friend's son - who has a fine collection of knives apparently - had also done the 1 Click Amazon thing. A book arrived at his office...."Mini Weapons of Mass Destruction". Respect! Bob's Christmas present sorted one might think. But not necessarily. I have some extraordinary news for you. The other day I got an email out of the blue informing me he had joined the choir. And shortly after that he secured permission from his mother to re-jig his GCSE options. He has given up History ( shame on him and Sophie ) and taken up Art. Here is a picture he sent me in a text message, made from leaves apparently. In due course I suppose it could be a valuable as an example of work from his formative years so I'll file this. It is too early to tell whether Bob's more sensitive side is taking over or to put another way he is turning over a new leaf. Boom boom. I have learnt from Hen that change in character traits take a while to play out don't they. People continue to ask me why we hear so little of Hen these days and I think I have told you already that life was becoming an altogether more serious business for her. At 20 you would expect that really. But if you want an update of her progress, studying photography at Leeds University, you may be amused to hear that I received this message from one of her house mates who seems to be finding her mature outlook too much to bear. "Hen is sitting in her room cutting out pictures of fairies and listening to Metallica....I want her to move out."

Friday 2nd November, 2012

If you ever doubted the professional in me you should be reassured by the fact that I have nipped back to the office from our London Conference whizzing down Piccadilly and round Hyde Park Corner on my trusty Boris Bike....just to send you this and wish you a good weekend. The conference, though I say it myself, has been a great success. CLSA eat your heart out. 38 Asian leaders in a West End hotel. Tony Fernandes entertaining us over lunch with a rivetting run through his career to date. Indonesian trade minister. Prosecco. Duck pancakes. A magician AND....music from the Coutures, aka Three Girls from Essex. Oh and a little too much Soju, a drink of which even a little is too much. I also got carried away with a small Indian company.....be warned this last time this happened to me was when I was reluctantly dragged into a meeting with Inspur at a HK Forum and came out Inspired. It has been a sorry tale since then. But this one is different. Really worth a look..... Tribhovandas Bhimji Zaveri (TBZL IN) - If you can't get your tongue around this company's name don't worry. Call it TBZ. But remember this one. Its only US$220 m market cap but that is changing fast. It has doubled in the last few months and I am pretty sure it is going to do the same again in the next few. It is a play on the rising Indian middle class and its insatiable appetite for jewellery. The critical transformation for this company which for close on a 100 years was a Bombay based wedding jewellery specialist designer, manufacturer and retailer was the decision to switch business model to gold leasing. Think of it as going asset light. Instead of being exposed to gold price volatility and restriction imposed by holding inventory this has allowed it to pursue a dramatic growth strategy transforming itself into a pan Indian company building on its renowned reputation. Now, instead of people trecking to Mumbai to buy their jewellery TBZ is going to them. By end FY15 they will have 57 stores from the current 12 dotted in urban centres all over India and these stores are profitable almost from the outset. Average sales is 300,000 rupees per sq ft. Average billing size is 150,000 rupees. Nothing else in retailing in India comes close. CAGR over last 5 years of like for like gold sales has been 8% and for diamonds (25% of sales) it has been 28%. Add on top the store expansion and you have a stellar growth story. Take a look. So it's been a long week and I have to get back to the conference, but just quickly have to tell you about my trip to Edinburgh on Wednesday where, would you believe, on 31st October, the Christmas trees are up. Anyway, as you know I have various little tricks to keep me engaged during meetings. If I'm with a Chinese company and in front of a client who is a Mandarin speaker I encourage them to conduct the meeting in their own language. Truth is I like listening to Mandarin. When I was with Barings in HK I actually had lessons for a few months and our teacher invariably praised me for my accent which I was quite pleased about. So now one of my little querks is to wait until, with the help of the occasional bit of English that always crops into business talk, I can guess what they are discussing and then chip in with a casual pertinent comment of my own. Fun eh!? Anyway the conversation over lunch was in full flow at the point, I was sure they were discussing various private equity investment firms operating in China. I decided the time was right to launch my attempt to make them think I understood everything they were saying and asked how they selected which firm to work with? They looked at me blankly. "Sorry. We are talking about pineapple cakes" I was told. Busted. After that every now and again, as I reached for another sip of house red, they would break off and with a sympathetic nod in my direction explain they were talking about the Taiwanese financial industry. Hey ho. At least I have the consolation that I can speak more Cantonese than my lunch partner's colleague who, after living in Hong Kong for close on 10 years, can only manage four words....Gung Hei Fat Choi. Pip pip.

Friday 26th October, 2012

Frustrating week for me because as you will no doubt be aware the CIMB Classic began yesterday in Kuala Lumpur and the likes of Tiger Woods and my fellow Scot, Martin Laird, must be fancying their chances of scooping the US$1.3 million first prize in my absence. I asked one of you to provide me with the excuse to get out there but you let me down. Thanks a lot. Talking of golf Bob was 15 yesterday and part of his day was spent over nine holes at Royal Worlington supposedly playing golf with a friend. He didn't have much to say about his game. The fact is he would have been pre-occupied exploring the adjoining woods which harbour all sorts of interesting wildlife. I know I go on about his pursuit of furry creatures. In fact fishing is his greatest passion. I can't help him there. I totally hate the smell of fish on my hands. Now, you might have the impression of Bob as an outdoor guy, which I suppose he is, but there is a reality TV show he never misses. Not for him Hollyoaks or TOWIE. It's called Wicked Tuna. Every evening this half term we have had a running commentary over dinner on the latest developments from the fishing town of Gloucester, Massachussets. A blue finned tuna sold for $13,000 in yesterday's episode and there was an interesting scrap between the locals and some outsiders who had strayed into their waters. Oh it's exciting stuff. So I'm back from lunch - client was quite late but with an interesting excuse...."my IT guys in their wisdom decided to put the clocks on our floor back a day early"..and we had a good time reminiscing. That's another thing I've noticed as I write this weekly drivel. Besides blowing my own trumpet more than I used to I also include much more nostalgia. Sign of the times. Anyway an interesting thing happened this week. There was this guy I knew at school who was a good friend, but I hadn't seen him since we'd left. Every few years or so some random event reminds me to type his name into Google to see what he was up to. Nada. No disrespect to him. I used to be a similar non-entity. Something about Glenalmond obviously. If you searched for David Sandison you got a photographer, an accountant or a fisherman in Shetland. But then I ran the Jungfrau Marathon and suddenly I was somebody. Anyway, I spotted his name whilst re-reading my 1981 diary in bed on Wednesday evening and was prompted to have another search for him yesterday. To my surprise, my friend who, as my brother reminded me, lent my parents a pen-knife on my first day at school with which they carved notches into a coat hanger on which to hold my kilt, has re-surfaced. There he was, pictured in the Daily Mail, wearing his OG tie. It's a sad story though I'm afraid. It appears he recently drove his £70,000 Maserati through a stone wall into the harbour in Shieldaig, Ross-shire. And that's the least of it. He has just been fined £1,000 in Perth Sheriff Court for a separate incident. Tut tut.

Friday 12th October, 2012

Soroptomist ..... As you probably know I like new words and this was one I found inscribed on the plaque of a bench in Princes Street Gardens on Tuesday morning. I should add I was walking through the gardens on my way to a 'portant meeting. I was not one of the six tramps I passed horizontalising in various sheltered spots, soaking up the sun rise. I had spent the night in the Balmoral, dig me. So anyway, no conferring and Google strictly ruled out, but can anyone tell me what a soroptomist is? First one to reply with the correct answer gets a prezzie. I wasn't looking particularly for new words. Normally when I walk through Princes Street Gardens I recall a time quite a few years ago when I was marketing with a Sanford Bernstein analyst and we made a detour into the park. The analyst had heard music ( if you can call fiddling that ) and we went to investigate its source. It turned out there was a Scottish Country Dance exhibition going on and I still don't think the analyst believed me when I waved at an elderly lady in the front row of the stage who happened to be my grandmother! No, on this occasion my eyes were peeled for a fox which I'd been told about the evening before over dinner. My friend told me he had seen it one morning on his way to work and it had apparently been stalking an old lady out for a walk with her Jack Russell which I thought was quite remarkable. I am particularly interested in Edinburgh's fox population as I have promised a client, who has a problem with a fox which has made their back garden its home, that I will send Bob up for work experience at some point. Back on the subject of words we had lunch on Tuesday in Cafe St Honore a very traditional French restaurant in North Thistle Street, not to be confused with Rue St Honore, the road sign on the front of the restaurant. Traditionally French it may be when at the end of lunch I drew on my extensive command of the language and asked for a cafe au lait the waitress's face was a surprising blank. Sparing her embarassment I re-ordered. "A cup of coffee please". "No problem" she said. "Would you like milk with that?" It reminded me of the time in Ireland when I was looking for double cream. I looked high and low but there were only cartons of single cream on the supermarket shelves. So I asked a young lad wheeling out a fresh stock of dairy products whether they had any double cream. "No sir," he said pointing to the rows of single cream, "I'm sorry, but it only comes in this size". Last snippet on my theme. Unlike our other children Lottie, our 11 year old genius, needs no help with here homework. She just sits down and gets on with it. Last night was English and the subject was opposites. She was reeling them off with consumate ease till she got to the word IMPROVE. She paused for a second and then came out with "Dettoriorate". Sorry. It's a Newmarket joke really. Frankie's daughter is her best friend in Pony Club.

Friday 28th September, 2012

I received this email on my way out to Frankfurt earlier this week. I don't know what it is about me and Frankfurt, but everytime I go there I get messed up by flight delays and cancellations. It was the same this time albeit, gratifyingly, at the hands of Lufthansa rather than BA. Anyway, this came from a former colleague, "Lucky Tim" we call him, as I twiddled my thumbs ruefully in H'row T1.....it's a long story but worth a read. Happy Monday, I hope you had a lovely weekend? I have a interesting story that I think you will like being a fellow sailor. ( DS adds.....I must admit to have been rather flattered by that ! ) So Im not sure if I have mentioned this to you before but I am a massive fan of the yacht called the Maltese Falcon (google if you have no idea what I am talking about). Since friday the Monaco yacht show has taken centre stage here and the MF has been on anchor just outside the main marina. The yacht show was fantastic and I managed to schmmooooze myself onto a few lovely boats but the boat I really wanted to get on of course was MF.. So to cut a long story short when back at my flat and staring at the MF from my terrace I decided to google it and see whether I could find a contact. I found a typical enquiries@ address and sent off a polite intro/begging/Im a fund manager rah rah rah email and within 2 minutes I received a call back from the PA of a lady called Elena Ambrosiandou (ring any bells?). Elena is the founder of Ikos and had that very public divorce you may have read about. Anyway so I gracefully accepted the invitation from Elena's PA to come onboard that afternoon and have a tour by one of the crew and I was instructed to meet the MF tender at the Monaco Yacht Club jetty. At 1.45pm I arrive nice and early at the jetty to be met by 5 staff who were not at all shocked by little old me, mentioned that they were expecting a friend of Elena's and that they were ready to take me to the MF.. A quick motor out to the MF and Im starting to act like a child in a candy store but still trying to look like this is a normal experience for me in front of the MF crew.. Once onboard I am met by the captain and given a tour ( I have attached a few pics). The MF is truely remarkable! After the tour the PA of Elena arrived and told me that Elena would be onboard shortly and would like to invite me to stay for lunch along with a few other guests. I accepted without too much thought and perched by the bar, intrigued as to who the other guests would be... So along with Elena, the other guests were a Saudi Sheikh called Sheikh Hammed, Dr Mohammed Al Barwani (He had just arrived from Scotland where he was a guest of Charles and Camila because one of his Oman O&G companies had just bought an interest there) A couple of hotties from Motor Magazine (who were writing a piece on Elena) and finally and most interestingly a chap called Alvaro De Marichalar who is now famous as the man that crossed the Atlantic on a Jet Ski travelling from Rome to New York. So after a 3 hour lunch and chilling on the MF like it was my local I hopped on the tender and was delivered back into port with Elena's number in my pocket and promise of lunch and guidance whenever its needed in my new ventures with Tipsy Capital (DS again....I made up this name btw). All in all a crazy day in Monaco! Hope you like the pics Tim How cool and ridiculous is that? I don't know about you, what I really wanted to see was the email Tim had sent. I suppose I was thinking if only I could draft something as convincing as he obviously had done all my problems would be over. Here is what got him on board the Maltese Falcon. Good morning, Please forgive this rather random email but I am huge admirer.. previously from afar... of the Maltese Falcon. Not least this is because of my Maltese heritage but also because of my love of the design and capabilities of the vessel. I'm presently based in Monaco and have been staring from my balcony at every spare moment as she swings on her anchor in the harbour. I was wondering if there is any possibility of going onboard for a quick tour? I am a fund manager so I am often looking for client entertainment ideas and also I am a very keen sailor. I'm not expecting a positive response from this email however I thought, as I watch the gorgeous boat out there, I should at least try kind regards So there you go. It was as easy as that. I'll be brushing up my email skills over the weekend and trying something similar on you next week after which I have no doubt a couple of US$200 million orders will follow. Failing that I'm off to try my luck as a fund manager in Monaco. P.S. Just finished The Sugar Barons by Matthew Parker. Fascinating read, yet horrendous.

Friday 14th September, 2012

Despite the satisfying, albeit delayed, outcome at Flushing Meadows I had been fully anticipating writing you a message that reflected general gloom and despondency chez Sandison and yet it turns out that this is a story of surprise, joy and love. I was expecting to have to report on yet another 60 lids down the drain spent in a futile attempt to get one of children across the finishing line in their driving test. On top of which a Vodafone bill had just arrived revealing that my youngest daughter had managed to run up a bill of £33 in 14 seperate 118118 calls made last Saturday afternoon when she was meant to be watching the Burghley Horse Trials. Maddening. But would you believe it, early yesterday morning, three and a half years after her first driving lesson, Hen passed. Yes, Hen. Not Jimmy, three years her junior, who had been quietly confident - even though she has failed her test three times in the last couple of months - that she would be qualified before Hen. Jimmy has felt she has had the edge ever since, all those years ago in Thailand, she was out of nappies months before Hen could be bothered to look after her own business. Sibling rivalry. Terrible thing, though I should say Jimmy was delighted at Hen's success. "This opens up a whole new world of opportunity for us Hen" she said ominously. Anyway I digress. I was talking about money. Of course test fees kind of pale into insignificance when you consider what we have spent on driving lessons for Hen over the years which also helped lessen the blow of having to insure her. I was pleasantly surprised in fact. I don't want to tempt fate but the RAC may wish they had demanded a bit more than the £750 they did to cover our aged VW Polo. So, it was a very happy home last night and we celebrated wildly. Hen revealed, that whilst she had not repeated previous errors which had included breaking a red light and requiring her examiner to perform an emergency stop, she had been convinced she had failed and burst into tears of surprise and joy when her examiner gave her the happy news. Wiping the tears away as she added her signature and dated the Pass certificate she noted it was the 13th September. "Unlucky for some, but not for me!" she told him gleefully. It was at this point I suspect the poor man began to wonder what exactly he had unleashed on the roads of Cambridgeshire and Suffolk. He would be even more concerned if he saw her latest Facebook post after she had spent the afternoon getting used to the sensation of driving on her own. "Jus been patrollin Gazeley-Ashley way, watch out bitchez imma ridin ma weeeeels." So what of the love angle this week? Maybe it was the champagne we were toasting her success with over supper yesterday but Hen started to get quite emotional again as she discussed the contribution her driving instructor Colin had made. As you would expect she has been through quite a few instructors over the years. Colin has only relatively recently come onto the scene. He is 67 years old, married, although apparently he and his wife have seperate bedrooms, and Hen later in the evening told us how much she loved him. Apparently he was friendly, wonderful and gorgeous and witty too. He has some great one-liners many of which she recited to us though I can only recall two of them. "Better to arrive 10 minutes late in this world, than early in the next" and "Early observation = early information; Late Observation = pain in the ar*e." Anyway, at this point, after a tiring day, she shuffled out the kitchen telling us she was off to write Colin a letter.

Friday 31st August, 2012

Anyway, back to Sweden. Yes, what a great country. We rented a house on one of the islands in the Swedish archipelago together with a boat to get us there. It was not the modest vessel I had hoped for, but a Chris Craft 25ft motoboat with an 8.1 Volvo Penta inboard engine together with brand new set of propellors which meant the boat was capable of a stunning 60mph. Alas it did not come with GPS and I can tell you the Swedish archipelago is one complicated and rocky place. I wasn't actually skippering the boat. The friends we were with had heard about my exploits in the British Virgin Islands no doubt and had pre-qualified their 16 year old son who passed his small boats licence days before. Fair play to him. We rocketed along on our 40 mile journey to Blido, darting artfully around islands and between yachts, flying across the substantial wake thrown up by various enormous ferries that ply their way between Stockholm and St Petersburg or whereever. My mistake was to take the steering wheel on the last ten minutes of the journey, in my defence a particularly precarious section that involved some dangerous rocks. I'll get to the point. I successfully negotiated all of these until we were just about to tie up to the jetty off our house. At that point there was an horrendous scraping noise and we had run aground. The pristine propellor flukes were not looking quite so shiny and smooth anymore. 'Nuff said. Blinking hate boats. To be fair it wasn't really my boat handling that was at fault. I was quite pleased at how I smoothly extricated the boat off the rock and edged gently up to the pier. The problem was the lack of sat nav and map reading, I admit, is not my forte. Believe it or not days later I had another little navigational incident. This time though it was on the Old Course at St Andrews. Now, as you might expect, I know my way around the Old rather well. I won the our family golf competition, The Big Stick, again this year, the eighth time out of the 15 occasions on which we have held the event. As I scribble this I am still considering whether or not to send you the write up which, as the winner, I am obliged to come up with. We'll see. The Old Course starter official manny handed us each a score card together with a sheet containing the day's pin positions and I was rather pleased with myself when, faced with a tricky approach to the third, I remembered to pull the sheet out of my bag and consult it. Armed with the knowledge that the pin was 22yds from the front and 7yds from the left I took an extra club, decided to add a bit of a draw and my 9 iron finished two feet from the hole. I resisted the urge to suggest that my father, brother and nephew would do well to pay such attention to detail, because I felt that would have been a little bit pompous. Just as well. When I next resorted to my pin sheet on what I thought was the 5th, I couldn't reconcile from the sheet whether or not I was on the hole I thought I was so I just hit the damn ball and hoped for the best. On closer inspection as I wandered up to the green I discovered that, from the start of the round, I had been using a map with the pin placements for the New Course on 19th August 2011. What a numptie. Oh what the heck, it's a dull old day...I'll send you my write up. But if you havn't heard of William Macgonagall, Scotlands second greatest poet then you may well think I have finally lost the plot. My write up owes a debt of gratitude to his seminal work, A Descriptive Poem on the Silvery Tay. Just for reference, faither means Dad, J is my brother and Charlie is my 17 year old nephew. The yellow jacket is a hideous corduroy creation once owned by the brother of the editor of Private Eye, which the loser of our golf contest is obliged to wear over lunch in the R&A.