WTF Wednesdays

The UK has recently been graced with the pre-budget report which details the economic policies the government will enforce next year. Not satisfied with the banks they already own and the mess that is looming over everyone's Christmas, they have decided to put further tax burdens on the whole banking industry. In spirit, I am fully behind taxing bankers but the measures proposed simply hurts the graduates and middle-earners who really have had very little to with bringing on the crisis and who are already suffering from the wage cuts, redundancy, over-leveraged mortgages, unemployment etc etc. It's like all these politicians just spout out headlines that will be short term crowd pleasers. This is not a stand up comedy act - I wish they would think about what they are doing. Completely randomly, they have also decided to reduce tax on bingo winnings - WHAT??!!

What is up with the Chancellor's eyebrows? Thunderbirds was so eighties...

Do we have a right to judge Tiger Woods? Should I care about what he has done in his personal life? Morally, he does not have a leg to stand on and I am not here to condone adultery. However, he's a professional sportsman and that is what he is known for. Why is it that he is having to take time off from the golf circuit because of the public backlash when politicians, movie stars, singers and even religious leaders can get on with their professional lives after their skeletons are unleashed? Surely some of them have more responsibility as moral examples than Tiger Woods? Then there are the celebrities who make immoral decisions in their field of profession - the multitude of politicians who lie and also sports personalities who cheat in their game. Even this year, there was the Renault scandal with a driver trying to throw a race, the rugby player who faked a bleeding face injury and France's controversial entry into the World Cup. I think we should give Tiger a break - glass houses, throwing stones and all that.

Witching hour

Today is one of my favourite days in the year - the end of daylight saving time! My annual ritual is to not change my clock all day until I am doing something I really enjoy. Then I turn back my clocks and it feels like I get an extra hour just at the right moment! And this year, you'll be glad to hear, I have saved it for blogging. It's such a good feeling - you can definitely see why the Doc (Emmett Brown) was so obsessed with his time machine.

The last week of summer time was a gluttonous one for me - I've managed to go to 3 restaurants I have wanted to visit in the space of a week. To my immense relief, all 3 were delicious and well worth the wait and anticipation. I may have to find a new sporty goal though, as I've not lifted a finger (or toe) since the half marathon in mid-October so all these nights out and the upcoming holiday season is probably going to take it's toll! It's weird because I've never really been bothered about it before, but I think I've enjoyed my new toned-ness and it's sad to watch it disappear before my eyes.

It doesn't take much to excite me - which probably goes a long way to explaining why I work in finance and how I can read the financial newspapers and the Economist without falling asleep - but there was a scandal this week in the business community which read like the content of OK! magazine. The head of the UK's biggest insurance company has left his wife (they have 4 kids together) to consumate his affair with his HR director who is also married - to another senior manager who works at the same company! The Aviva triangle - it's like a little bit of Hollywood amongst the pink pages..

Went on a date with the greek guy (the one who challenged me to 'impress him'). Anyway, as most of you rightly predicted but I needed to learn for myself (...!!), he turned out to be a bit of a jerk. Back to the drawing board for me!

This Friday, I am off to Asturias - the home of my hero Fernando Alonso - to watch the last Grand Prix of the year with all his local homies. Slightly less exciting given the Champion was decided last week (Button - ick!) but still, it will be more of a looking-forward celebration as he will be driving for Ferrari next year. Vamos vamos!

Duck duck goose..!

Went to the cinema to see Disney Pixar's Up in 3D. It's their latest animated movie and it was completely lovely. A grump of an old man setting off to live his unfulfilled dreams in memory of his childhood sweetheart - with a chubby little oriental kid to test his patience but who ultimately brings out the best in the old man. It's sort of like Gran Torino - but less violent and with helium balloons. Apart from crying my eyes out (it is very moving), the biggest surprise was how much 3D has evolved since I was 8, following Blue Peter to cut out glasses from cereal boxes and using green and red Quality Street sweet wrappers. I looked like an idiot and the TV screen was largely the same. Now, the plastic goggles still make me look like an idiot but the 3D element really works. Definitely go check it out.

It has been 10 years since I went to University - the first week of October 1999 was when I turned up at Oxford as a fresher to learn the ways of adulthood. To celebrate this joyous occasion, I organised a reunion (kudos to facebook as it made everyone very easy to find) and 50 of us gathered in a gentlemen's club in London on Friday. These types of official reunions are not as 'de rigeur' as they are in the US, and it was really nice to see everyone and for them to make an effort. The variety of different paths we had the choice to follow is really inspiring. Along with several hardened academics who continue to labour on their post docs for intellectual acclaim, there was a mix of lawyers, media moguls and art gallery socialites. Strangely, no one seems to have gone into banking but me - they obviously had better career advisors than I did! Anyway, it was warming to see everyone and to hear of their successes. It still makes me wonder though, whether we follow a predetermined destiny or whether we have the will to write our own futures.

Talking of ugly ducks turning into swans, you have to read about the Belgian Miss Homeless contest. As a social experiment, they ran this contest and the winner receives housing for a year... Aside of being a headline grabber, is it really any worse or better than an actual Miss World contest? The prize may seem more meaningful (in that it satisfies our desires to be do-gooders) but are we not taking exploitation to new levels?

Then the big goose of the week - my work has banned all web based emails and facebook! I spend 12 hours a day in the office and usually more than 5 days a week! It is apparently to protect information security - I still feel like I'm being violated...

Interlagos is underway - my Fernando is out on the first lap following repercussions of another crash. All my eggs are in the red bull basket now. Come on Vettel!!

Peace out

As we reel in the aftershock-slash-glory of President Obama's "extraordinary efforts to strengthen international diplomacy", it's hard to decipher whether the Norwegians have been drinking the same water as their crazeee Icelandic neighbours or whether this is a genius way of giving the busy new President a chance to pause for thought and consider the repercussions his actions can have. There's a man who must get shivers thinking of the butterfly effect!

Closer to home (mine at least!), the nation's hero Silvio Berlusconi (yes, the one who keeps refering to Obama as having a good suntan) has had his self-imposed immunity from all rules removed by the State. Some crazy Italians stopped eating pasta for long enough to see that Berlusconi, who control's the country's media already, should not have the privilege of dodging the hand of the law. Apparently this clip is really him..



A little more frivolous, but on X-factor yesterday, one of the judges made a comment about a contestant's sexual preference - it was completely unprovoked as well. I'm not sure what made her do it (it was glorious as an example of carcrash TV) but she repeated it to make sure everyone had heard her. In this day and age when everything you say is uber-scrutinised, why would she bring this bag of bricks down on herself?

And then most frivolous of all, I have bought my first grown up, significantly-pay-denting hand bag. After months and months of should-I-could-I, the deed has been done. In a most frivolous crushed raspberry. Yum...

Goody goody gumdrops

The whole blog journey began for me as I was procrastinating my way towards some financial exams. Results were out last week and I have passed! Hooray! After the initial relief, the whole thing is somewhat anticlimatic (don't you just hate that word?) because my reward is to sit the next level next Summer - although that one is the last one after which I can stick 3 extra letters after my name. Oh goody...

My 3 summer weddings are also over. Through some cunning facebook de-tagging, I have managed to go to all three wearing the same outfit without anyone knowing. The recession has got nothing on me - although my larger European neighbours have called an end to this depressing period by reporting the return of economic growth. Not only do I not trust their statisticians, but overall it's fairly meaningless to me as the UK still has a long way to go. But to cheer us all up, Simon Cowell is back on our screens with the latest series of the X factor. Oh goody....

At one of the summer weddings, I was reunited with James Bond - no, not the international man of mystery but the guy I was sort of dating before he decided to stop calling me back. To cut a long story short, during our first date, he found out his dad had been diagnosed with cancer (this was almost a year ago now). His dad passed away in June and we hadn't seen each other since. At the wedding, he was very open and chatted about his dad and how he is now looking after his mother, his parent's house and his dad's outstanding affairs - all pretty heavy burdens for a guy who should also be grieving. He was also coming on to me pretty strong but as much as I like him, I had to hold him back. He is very vulnerable right now and I don't really want to get involved with someone who doesn't return my calls. I felt really moral and superior at the time, but I regret letting the opportunity go now. Oh goody...

The news is smothered by 2 stories. Firstly, the UK is divided over al-Megrahi, the alleged Lockerbie bomber. The Americans are outraged by his compassionate release but the British news is reporting it at arms length as it falls into Scottish jurisdiction - they wanted their own parliament so let the Scots lie in the bed they have made. Even worse, the Libyan news thinks that al-Megrahi's release is a reflection of their country's growth in power - the Libyans believe he was set free because the Western world wants to be their friends. He was not set free as an innocent man, he was sent home to die as a guilty man as an act of compassion which will forever be argued as something he does not deserve. Secondly, we are all wasting time arguing over whether Caster Semenya is a woman or not. Leave her alone. What a horrible trauma for an 18 year old girl. Very publicly, the world is debating her gender and she has taken 'tests' (I really can't even begin to imagine how they test her) which will say whether it is appropriate for her to race as a woman.

Sometimes, I am so grateful to be a nobody.

Question of the day

What is your first response to this question?

Back when I was in school, I was in fact fourteen, I received a letter through the post. This in itself was exciting because post is a joyous affair when you're young as you haven't yet learnt the dread of those monthly bills... Anyway, this letter was addressed to me and simply had 'Who are you?' typed on a blank sheet of paper. Sadly, this was during the scary nineties and I was so worried that someone was out to get me and that I would find a horse's head in my bed that my dad had to come clean and say it was from him. He had read an article about a book called 'Sophie's World' in which a fourteen year old girl receives the same anonymous letter and it begins a journey through philosophy and self discovery. I don't think he ever got over the disappointment of me not being able to think outside of the box but such are the risks when you set such high goals...

I was reminded of this today as I was chatting to my friend over a coffee, having dragged her round Nike town as I tried on every pair of running shorts going. She is probably the most religious person I know and we were killing time until she had to go to church for evening service. She was telling me how last week, the sermon had been about identity and how we choose to identify ourselves. How do I answer the question 'who are you?'? I am a daughter, a sister, a banker, a European, a female, an athlete...etc etc. The sermon was saying that some identities are not forever - ie your parents will pass away, you may change jobs - but if you identify yourself as a Christian then this is an everlasting relationship.

I'm vaguely aware that I have written 2 consecutive posts that are loosely based on religion but I think this is interesting for everybody. Given my track record, I probably wouldn't define myself first as a blogger (although I am trying!) but I really couldn't decide what to choose first. If I was a believer of mantras then I guess I could make myself into anything as long as I say it out loud enough times! Although it makes you think about all those AA meetings where they make you say 'I am an alcoholic' before you say anything else which seems to be a somewhat negative form of self-branding. However, I'm off to polish up my positive outlook on life - I am afterall an optimist!

NB. Usain Bolt has just run 100m in 9.58s - it seriously takes me longer to get out of bed. Immense.

Summer camp

This is not something I personally have to worry about but it's that time of year and the great American summer tradition has made it across the pond to little ol' England. The camp in question is called Camp Quest. Set up in the US in 1996, this is a camp for children who don't believe in God. Now, I am a Roman Catholic but I never bring this up in normal conversation and I make a point of not discussing my views with people I meet during everyday life (this is probably some suppressed catholic guilt but that is a whole other story which we can tackle another day!). My point today is why on earth make a camp for children that is specifically made to promote atheism, which is in itself a choice to not believe in God and a choice to not have faith. Can a 7 year old child really decide that they don't want to believe in a higher power, any more than they can choose to believe that they do?

The founders of Camp Quest allege that atheists are not allowed to join Scouts or Guides. Is this true? Apart from usual camp activities, they teach the scientific beginnings of the earth and attempt to dis-prove the existence of things like unicorns to nullify the existence of God by association. Come on, throw me a bone - this is the most ridiculous thing I have seen in a long time (even more so than the green shoots of recovery!!). What is the world coming to? Just send your kids to the same camp their friends are going to. Let them sit round a fire and sing ging-gang-goolie after a day kayaking on the lake. They have plenty of time to sit round their fraternity common room arguing over existentialism and heaven/hell whilst smoking banned substances as they come of age. In the meantime, let them believe in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. The race is not to have the freakiest kids who know the truth about everything, it's to enjoy the fact that they are KIDS and to protect their innocence as long as you can. I find the idea of Camp Quest about as appealing as Bible Camp. Shades of grey people, shades of grey!!!

Time is like a waterfall

always flowing down,

we have but one moment,

to swim and not to drown

In response to dear Otin who always knows what is at the forefront of my thoughts, I am going to respond to his comment through this post. This weekend was the last of the Formula One races before the summer break in Hungary. It's very popular as its central location means it is easily accessible to all European fans and thus attracts a variety of F1 fans. On Saturday, the man Alonso managed to get his car on pole, thanks to a few car improvements but also a light fuel strategy. This however was marred by the tragic accident which saw a 1kg spring off a formula one car go bouncing down the track to hit Felipe Massa on the head when he was driving at racing speed. He lost consciousness and drove straight into a barrier. He was air-lifted to hospital and is now in intensive care - the latest is that he can move his arms and legs but can not speak. He is not expected to race again this season. Spookily, a week earlier, Henry Surtees (son of former F1 champion John) died after being hit in the head at racing speed by the loose wheel of a fellow F2 racer. To add to the general bad karma of the weekend, Alonso had to withdraw from the race on Sunday after a bad pit stop saw his wheel fly off in the middle of a lap.

As an Alonso fan, I am devastated that he is being suspended from the next race (which incidentally is his home race in Spain) but as an F1 fan, I am truly devastated by what has happened to Massa and hope for his speedy and full recovery. Everyone knows the sport is dangerous but so far we have been lucky with a good run without any serious accidents.

And because I can't end on something sad, here's a quick journey into the ridiculous. A group of children were made to walk backwards into the sea, arms linked and singing a song as part of a confidence building exercise. It all went rather pear shaped as the tide pulled out the sandbank from beneath their feet and the whole group of 40 were only just rescued by coast guards. The camp organiser's reponse: "Obviously we've pulled that exercise and it will never be done again"

Holiday!

If we took a holiday

Took some time to celebrate

Just one day out of life

It would be, it would be so nice!

I have had a most relaxing week in a mountain top villa in the Sierra Nevada - some may say it's the traditional British summer escape, but it was truly lovely. All the wonderful sea views without having to face the crowds. There's something very calming about being so close to the sky - I think I am definitely a mountain (as opposed to sea) person. Whilst I was mildly excited by the sliver thin resurgence of the British Pound, it didn't really matter because the cost of food was so cheap. The Spanish wine that I buy in my local supermarket in London (Tesco for those that are interested) is 60% cheaper - I can infact buy the Reserva for less than I pay for the Crianza here. Between the wine, gazpacho and sea views, it's been a very liquid week!

On the Sunday, I went to a Spanish bar to watch the German Grand Prix and experienced something I never get in London - the warm embrace of fellow Fernando Alonso fans. All the warmer for its rarity. Apart from this one indulgence, I was pretty sure I would relish the isolation but I discovered I have one further addiciton. I am addicted to news. Every morning, no matter how hard I tried to distract myself, and much to the amusement of my addiction-free friends, I had to get to a newsagent and buy an English newspaper. The only newspaper that makes the daily journey to Spain is The Sun (this is the most widely circulated tabloid in the UK, read by the masses, often based on hypotheses, with dubious journalism quality but with a fair chunk of sarcasm and some genius headlines - incidently my brother works there). So, mostly I read about how swine flu is inflitrating the nation, how Jennifer Anniston has found herself another man and how Cheryl Cole is prettier than Dannii Minogue. There were little snippets that covered the Indonesia bombings which I could use to piece together the pictures on Spanish TV. What language barrier I say...

Thankfully, the heat has broken here as you all predicted. I have come back to a much milder climate complete with drizzly showers - everyone is still walking round dressed as though it is 10 degrees hotter though, which is probably adding to the swine flu statistics that The Sun continues to churn out. When I was young, I had a Korean nanny who swore on my many dead ancestors' lives that if you went to sleep with a fan on, you would not wake up in the morning. I used to think she was crazy, but I've never been able to go to sleep with the fan on. You may laugh, but this is serious folklore in Korea - like the Bogeyman, or throwing spilt salt over your shoulder, or not walking under ladders. It's known as fan death - read the wiki-link.

As an aside, an American won the British Open today at Turnberry. It was a day of despair and disappointment - firstly for Ross Fisher, the local lad, who managed a double par when he was 2 shots in the lead to rule himself out of play. However, the real tear-jerker was 59 year old Tom Watson, an old school hero, who had been leading the competition and threw it away on the final hole to lose to another American during the play off. Sport can be so cruel.

Zen...

...the only thing keeping me going is the photo of Alonso and me which I have taken to carrying around in my handbag! Every stranger I meet gets the full story. I'm sure I will get bored of it one day... haha

Work is super busy. After graduation, as I stepped into the warm embrace of the financial Centre of Europe, I deliberately steered away from investment banking where my friends commonly stay at work until 2am and then boast that they get to take a company-paid cab home. Instead I chose to be a fund manager - something equally important sounding at all important high school reunions yet with friendlier hours. But somewhere, I think I've been conned!

We're doing a big acquisition - taking over a company that is far bigger in size than we are. Don't even get me started on the politics involved of integrating 2 separate teams - one of which is significantly higher profile and better paid. You know what they say: Change is good. But not in my back yard!!

Lots of news over the past week but it's all just passing me by without giving me a chance to make sarcastic quips. Michael Jackson, Bernard Madoff, Air France... But the one I've chosen to highlight is the story of James Amburn, a fund manager much like myself. He was tortured and held hostage by a gang of pensioners for 4 days for losing their pension money.

"The men, dubbed the "Geritol Gang" by police after an arthritis drug, face up to 15 years in jail if found guilty of subjecting German-American James Amburn to the alleged four-day ordeal.
Two of his kidnappers are said to have hit him with a Zimmer frame outside his home in Speyer, western Germany, before he was bound up with duct tape, bundled into the boot of a car and driven 300 miles to the home of two of the abductors on the shores of Lake Chiemsee in Bavaria."

His excuse? "Due to market conditions, unfortunately [the money is] gone"

Damn it, that's my line!!

This is no ordinary promotion...

I guess this joke will be lost on all non-British TV watching folk but it's the tagline for Marks & Spencers, one of the UK's biggest retailers. 125 years ago, a Jewish man in Manchester set up a penny stall to sell household bits and bobs. From this, M&S grew to become the darling of the British high street providing good quality basics in clothes, homeware and food. They even dabbled in the US when they bought Brooks Brothers, but they've since let that one go. Their international dreams cost them their domestic focus and they lost share in their customers' wallets to the likes of Tesco, Topshop etc.

But now, M&S are on a charm offensive headed up by Sir Stuart Rose - who has quite the illustrious history himself. He's not been very popular, but he always wears an M&S suit when he does public and shareholder appearances - I know that's pretty trivial but you would be surprised by how many CEOs preach about the quality of their products but don't choose to invest in the lifestyle they're trying to sell (a bit like Wagoner, Nardelli and Mulally choosing private jets!). Do what you want on your own time, but don't think that you're better than your consumers and they will keep coming to your store if you look down on your own products!

Now, TV adverts show Twiggy and Erin O'Connor prancing about in meadows wearing and eating M&S. To top it off, they are celebrating their 125th birthday by going back to their Penny Bazaar roots and offering a selection of 20 items for the princely sum of 1p (about 1.5c). I think this is a great marketing idea and ties in well to the current frugal lifestyle we are all trying to adopt. But take a look at these comments to a newspaper article - there's just no pleasing some people. As for me, I'm off to do my Christmas shopping for the next 20 years!

Slick thinking

Although there's nothing like a good fiction novel, I've been reading a fair chunk of non-fiction of late - mostly biographies of people who inspire me but also the history of large corporations. Have you ever wondered how Exxon started life? A man in Ohio called Rockefeller sowed the seeds for what is now the largest public company in the world. Over a hundred years of history seeped with family feuds, public humiliation, Government intervention, forced break up... could almost be the storyline for the next Dallas series.

It's particularly interesting within the context of OPEC and the controlled regime with which we produce oil and gas globally now. Although having said this, we like to think there are regulations in place to protect us but really the balance of power is shifting to the emerging markets who still have reserves of oil to drill. In the US, imports of oil are now more than double what is produced nationally.

Which brings me on to Peak Oil - probably most famously associated with Hubbert's theory that predicts the point at which any given oil field hits peak production after which, it goes into decline. People have tried to apply this on a global level to see when World oil fields will go into terminal decline with varying predictions from the pessimist "it's already happened" to the optimist "won't be til after I'm dead". Answers on a postcard please!

The price of oil spiked at $160/barrel last year which had people stocking up at petrol stations and saw our electricity bills and transport costs go through the roof. And yet we pay $3 for a litre of bottled water which is equivalent to $475/barrel. I don't even pretend to understand the complexity behind setting oil prices (one would like to think it is just a by product of a free market) but it's scary to think there are people out there who do this for a living and can have such a big impact on our daily lives.

Bad Vs Evil

Welcome to the House of Shame.

The war between the bankers and the politicians continues, and as biased as I may be, the bankers seem to be winning by default. The government have shot themselves in the foot once again this week as their frivolous past manipulation of allowable expenses has been brought into the scathing eyes of the general public. Hot on the heels of their intention to raise taxes to 50% next April, we find that our taxes have been used to pay for politicans' late night pay-TV, home improvements (someone even had a new wet-room installation paid for!) and fine dining experiences. Even our Great Leader has been paying his brother £3k per year to clean his house.

Words that spring to mind are rocks and glass houses. Pretty poor form to be advocating national belt-tightening and quantatative easing when the Government are using our taxes to pay for their second, third, fourth homes. Some politicians are exploiting some pretty dubious loopholes to try and justify the £15k kitchen they've had put in, but it all sounds a bit Enron-esque which I'm fairly sure they all deemed morally corrupt at the time...

I've got nothing against rewarding people who are doing a good job but I don't think any one in politics is deserving of that accolade just now.

Chicken Licken

It's amazing how much of a difference a four day week can have on your general well-being and goodwill towards men. After several months of chicken licken mania when all the media were running round telling the world that the sky was falling down, there seems to be a sort of reprieve at the moment. Maybe the markets are still sleepy after gorging on too many eggs but there is a definite calm and sense of peace. I think people are ready for some good news and willing it to happen. If we collectively wish for it hard enough - then maybe it can happen.

Sadly, fairytales don't cut it with me - I blame the years at an all girls high school where being the first to denounce santa claus and my little ponies was vital for survival. Moments of calm like these just make me worry about the impending storm. Whilst everyone else is enjoying the sun, I'm scrambling about buttoning down the hatches. You should have seen me entering the new millenium when Y2K was allegedly going to cause a global meltdown as all the sophisticated technology we rely on wouldn't be able to cope with a change of year... It was not pretty to say the least.

I've found a journalist who shares my view - have a read of his piece on how big corporations are still able to get away with accounting shenanigans. Have we learnt nothing from Lehmans, Enron, Northern Rock etc? Our ability to forget pain is often bandied about as a blessing in reference to child birth but it would probably be wise to keep a rubber band around our wrists to remind us to be more vigilant.

Gold Digger

As a budding young capitalist, whilst my school friends were dreaming of being doctors and lawyers, I dreamt of the day I would marry rich and live the content life of a kept woman. I must have done something bad in my life time as this is not what fate had in store for me at all. Not only am I nowhere near married but I am a fully signed up member of the rat race - working crazy hours to fund my non-designer lifestyle.

So it amuses (actually more irks) me that this week the Financial Times is carrying a piece on how women are paid substantially less than their male peers. I don't know why they do this same piece year in year out like it's some cutting edge piece of journalism but it grates me every time. I can't help but look at the rest of my otherwise all male team and wonder whether they earn more than I do simply by being male. This little seed of doubt is enough to drive my ambitious self crazy - good thing I am also blessed with the memory of a goldfish so will not think about this now until they write about it again.

Even more amusing, my new found hero is the Swedish Marie Douglas-David. Not happy with divorcing her much older husband for an arranged settlement of $43m, she is taking him to court to bump this up to $100m as currently it is not enough to finance her weekly spend which "include $4,500 for clothes, $1,000 for hair and skin treatments, $1,500 for restaurants and entertainment, $8,000 for travel, $700 for limousine services, $2,209 for an assistant, $1,570 for horse care and $600 for flowers".