Money In The Bank

Less than ten years ago it was a good bet to put your money in the bank. Not on deposit, stupid, but in owning the bank by being a shareholder. OK, there were a few that bit the dust – think Slater Walker, Barings and BCCI, none of which were proper banks, but the real… Continue reading Money In The Bank

A Pinch of Snuff

My late father-in-law favoured High Dry Toast. Norman Murphy, an authority on P G Wodehouse and much else besides, likes Kendal Brown. I have just ordered some Seville. From 1720 until 1981 they could all be purchased at Fribourg and Treyer’s shop in the Haymarket.

All Change

Something strange and unexpected has happened to me. It’s as unsettling as the moment in An American Werewolf in London when the main character transforms into a werewolf. It’s actually so awful that you may not want to read further.

Tie the Knot

Men don’t wear ties and shops don’t sell them. Having left home without one and needing neckwear to visit my club, I popped into Uniqlo and American Apparel on Kensington High Street  –  no cigar. There was no branch of T M Lewin handy so, reluctantly, I went into TK Maxx.

Something Fishy

By the end of this year more salmon will be sold than tuna in the UK. I read this in a newspaper, so it must be true.

When I Was Five

“A house in Kensington and £2,000 a year.” Sounds a bit like some thing from the pen of Muriel Spark, doesn’t it? Well, you’d have to sell the house these days. When I started in the City I never aspired to a residence in Kensington but I thought that I could jog along on £4,000… Continue reading When I Was Five

Alms for Oblivion

This is the SOE Memorial on the south side of the Thames outside Lambeth Palace. It was unveiled in 2009 and the bust is of Violette Szabo. Last Sunday I attended a ceremony at which representatives from Norway, Serbia and our own armed services laid wreaths around the memorial. A contingent of cadets from the… Continue reading Alms for Oblivion

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Categorised as Literature

Lest We Forget

There were no poppies on sale in the Irish Republic in my childhood. The same ones were brought out each year, like Christmas tree decorations. They had wire stalks and a small black button in the centre with Haig Fund written on it.