by Peter Kysel
“Understandably the Eastern Europeans felt betrayed by the West at the Yalta conference. For decades the West endorsed this betrayal, by pursuing their policy of the appeasement of communism.”
“When the West failed to support the anti-communist revolts in the satellite countries in the 1950s, people lost hope,” agreed Pavel
“President Reagan was the first and most consistent adversary of Soviet ideology. In 1982, he predicted that Marxism–Leninism would end up on the ash heap of history, and in the following year he labelled the Soviet Union, the evil empire. He gained credibility when the US abandoned their policy of detente and aligned their policies with his speeches,” added Jack
“He was vilified by the appeasers whose influence practically monopolised the Western media and academic circles. Eastern Europeans, although encouraged by him, were forced into silence. Reagan’s stance spurred the dissidents and exiles to review their opinion of the US,” said Jay.
“By adopting the policy of rolling back Soviet expansion, Reagan and Thatcher redeemed us in Eastern Europe.” summed up Jack
“They made it possible for the popular revolutions of the 1980’s to succeed,” agreed Jay.
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Concorde
On a late October afternoon, sipping tea in my office I looked up and saw Concorde flying low over the river Thames. What a beautiful sight, I thought, and stood up to watch. At that moment another Concorde came into view and then another. The last Concorde flight from New York, landed at Heathrow at 4 pm.
I stood by the window, admiring the grace and elegance of the aircraft. They had completed twenty-seven years in service. I have been in the City for the same time. I am not retiring yet I thought as the beautiful aircraft disappeared towards Heathrow for the last time.
I had flown Concorde once, from New York to London, fifteen years earlier. The passenger cabin was narrow, furnished in soft grey leather. I was mesmerised by the Mach number screen on the wall, as we broke the sound barrier. I seemed to be the only passenger thrilled by the experience. I loved the service, the expensive champagne, and the lobster salad. It was so exciting to fly faster than the speed of sound and sip free Bollinger. Everyone else in the cabin was sipping water or sleeping.
Four decades earlier I had told my schoolteacher that I wanted to be a pilot and fly faster than sound.
“You won’t be a pilot. The proletariat will never allow people like you to fly,” he said with a laugh. I was a naive child. As a thirteen-year-old enemy of the state, I was destined for a spell of re-education, not for pilot training.
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Govett Crushed
The bank directors from Dublin, descended on us in November and called a staff meeting. Their message was dire. Our office was to be closed down and the staff laid off. They refused to give any explanation, or to discuss a management buyout. The meeting was stormy, the staff accusing them of betrayal, as just a few months earlier, the Allied Irish Bank had assured us that the group investment business would be located in London. The staff mistrust, expressed at the Christmas party, had been well calibrated, but now there was general outrage. Anger began to evaporate when we saw our redundancy packages. The payoffs were generous. Even my thoughts of a buyout melted away.
I gathered my performance figures for future reference. All the European funds had done well. In the closing period to 10th November 2003, the Govett Global Opportunities Fund was ranked in the 1st quartile over all measured periods up to ten years. European portfolios of the Govett Enhanced Trust and the Govett European Technology and Income Trust beat their targets substantially. The Emerging Growth International Fund appreciated by 33.7%, compared with a fall of the benchmark index of 11.7%. Govett Emerging Europe ranked in third position amongst forty-four competitors.
I compared the management results in London and Dublin. My European Strategy fund was in the top quartile, while its Dublin rival, the European Blue-Chips, ended up lowest of all the funds and lost money for its investors.
The performance tables were reassuring. None of this mattered anymore. Govett was finished. I was demoralised and went home to think about my future.
Florisse was shocked. Over our pre-dinner drink she insisted,
“We are going to have to review our assets.”
“I’ve been offered a job in Dublin.”
“Turn it down, we need you here. I am not well.” It was the first time she admitted that she had health problems. It was worrying, but she reassured me,
“I had whooping cough as a child and my lungs were damaged. I am just short of breath, that’s all.” She turned to practical issues.
“We need to look for a smaller house. I want my own suite in a house with a better layout.” We continued to discuss the idea of moving. That night in bed I thought Too many coincidences came together today. Our lives are changing. But in what way?
The first change didn’t take long. The AIB termination squad at the London office telephoned the next morning with a request.
“We have a problem. We need you to come back.”
They had overlooked the fact that our contracts with the clients couldn’t be terminated overnight. “The lawyers have made a mistake. Clients must be given a six-month termination notice”.
“What has that got to do with me?”
“The office will have to remain open and has to be managed by someone with regulatory licenses and authorisations. You are the only person authorised by the Bank of England in the UK, the SEC in the USA and you hold the relevant personal licences. We’ll have to keep you on as managing director of AIB Govett in London.”
“Will I earn more for this promotion?”
“You’ll get a salary and keep your redundancy package.” I accepted the offer to take a fully paid sabbatical, without any work to do. I was back in my large corner office in Hay’s Galleria, with a river view towards the Tower of London, Tower Bridge and the cruiser Belfast.
My routine was most agreeable. I arrived at the office late, had a cup of coffee, made telephone calls to arrange lunches and used the Hay’s Galleria swimming pool and gym. Occasionally, I had to sign a document or two. Most of the time I reclined in my executive chair, with my feet on the desk and contemplated my future.
I chatted to estate agents, wrote French essays and read textbooks for my degree in European studies. Before long, I would be able to convincingly discuss EU legislation and its institutions. I spent more time at home with Florisse. We looked for a new house together. She was excited that on retirement, she had an interesting new project.
A century old, well respected British investment firm had been managed by AIB into oblivion. It’ ll soon be forgotten. We had a good team. They all scattered. Pity that we couldn’t buy-out the business. I thought with regret.
The London staff refused to relocate to Dublin and chose redundancy. Large banks were not happy places in which to work. The Irish financial sector’s hubris was at its peak. Irish bankers had created a massive lending bubble, which would destroy them within four years, with calamitous consequences for the country.
Chapter 24
Anniversary and Sliding Towards Decision
In May 2004, the Czech Republic joined the EU, but decided to keep its own currency. Athens staged the Olympic games on borrowed money, sowing the seeds of the destruction of its economy eight years later.
George W. Bush was re-elected president and the USA admitted the lack of evidence for weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. The world realised that Iraq had been invaded under false pretences and the Anglo-American moral leadership in international politics evaporated.
Osama bin Laden felt emboldened to admit responsibility for the 9/11 terrorist attacks in the USA. The era of social media began, with the launch of Facebook.
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Wedding Anniversary
Florisse and I were married on 9th January 1979. At that time we could only afford a modest ceremony and my family was not allowed exit pe
rmits to join us. We had invited only four friends. To make our wedding memorable, I had arranged a lunch at the smartest hotel in London. As our wedding lunch ended, we invited our guests to return in a quarter of a century, for a celebration of our marriage.
Florisse, Tamara and I were sitting in the bar of the Connaught hotel in London, waiting for the participants to join us for our 25th anniversary.
Florisse’s brother Patrick, with his wife Suzy arrived first, followed by Tony Grenville. David Clarke, who wasn’t well, brought his fiancée Charlotte Burton. At the wedding, Florisse was already pregnant with Tamara and today, our daughter had joined us too. It felt like a miracle that we had all returned. With a glass of champagne David congratulated us on our anniversary.
“I liked your confidence in the institution of marriage. By looking so far ahead into the future, you drew our friendship and your family memories into an elegant circle. It was an inspired decision.” His comments resonated. We had all remained close friends.
I had reserved the same round window table in the dining room and we automatically gravitated to the same places we had sat in a quarter of century ago. Once seated, we all fell silent for a moment, moved by the occasion. Then everyone began talking about their memories of the last years. Florisse was beaming with delight.
We were thrilled to reunite for this occasion. The hotel had been modernised, but the layout of the dining room and its wood panelling was reassuringly the same. Images of the setting and the smiling faces at both Connaught lunches, two and half decades apart, were etched in our memory. But our happiness was overshadowed by concerns for both Florisse’s and David’s health.
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What to do Next?
Having left Govett in March, I teamed up with a former colleague Sui Fun Hui to form the Pan-European Investor Relations (PEIR) company to focus on corporate communications in the capital markets. The business model was sound, but the process of building a client base was slow and our actual earnings were minimal.
After a few months my old friend Chris Kellerman asked about our progress. I was realistic
“It’s stressful, trying to build the business. It’ll take at least five years for it to become profitable.”
“Do you need the stress of managing a start-up company? Why don’t you choose an easier option?” This caused me to reconsider and after a pause, I agreed.
“I do want to be active, but given my age and Florisse’s health, I should really reduce the pace of work.”
“Sell your shares in PEIR and get a simple job that you will enjoy,” said Chris.
I followed his advice and on 1st December 2004, I took a job at MFC Global Investment Management in London, as the head of European equities with the title of vice-president. I assumed I was joining a small London office, ignoring the large Manulife organisation in Toronto. This was a mistake I was to regret.
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Scored at the EU
The EU advised me, on 24th February 2005, that I had successfully passed the selection process for a job as a senior administrator in the European Commission. I had spent a year competing against 5000 applicants from all over the EU, in several rounds of tests and interviews in London and Brussels. The letter contained a surprising caveat, that there were no specific jobs available. I called Brussels.
“Was all that effort spent on a non-existent job?” Apparently not. I was ranked No 2 on an exclusive list of a dozen successful applicants.
“All European institutions can only make appointments from this list. You can be confident of being offered a suitable job within days or weeks.” The EU worked in mysterious ways.
PART 7
Crises and Celebration
In 2005 Angela Merkel became the German chancellor and Tony Blair was elected prime minister for a third term. The Polish pope, John Paul II died, and 4 million people travelled to the Vatican to mourn him. Another social media channel, YouTube, was launched. Home grown suicide bombers hit London transport, killing fifty-six people and injuring 700.
Chapter 25
London Bus
I was late for work on the morning of 7th July 2005. Normally I commuted on my black, Aprilia Mojito scooter, and parked it in Finsbury Circus. Today, I assumed that all the parking spaces for motorcycles would be taken. Reluctantly, I decided to walk to Hampstead tube station. Our train stopped at Euston, where passengers were asked to get off and continue their journey by bus. Eventually, I found a bus that would take me in the direction of Liverpool Street. At Russell Square, I turned around to see which bus was following us. It was the No 30.
At that moment, there was the muffled sound of an explosion. The roof, of the red double-decker bus behind us, lifted. It slid slowly towards the front and to the side, exposing the entire top deck. Watching it, I froze. Then, there was silence. It was 9:47 am. There were people visible. Some of them were moving. The passengers on my bus realised that a bomb had gone off and tried to get out.
We were blocked by a young woman, who stood halfway up the stairs, frantically trying to make a call on her mobile. People shouted at her to move. She held the rail with one hand and dialled with the other hand, screaming at us to leave her alone. Someone grabbed the girl’s mobile phone and tossed it away. She turned, lost her grip of the handrail and was swept off the bus. Somebody shouted,
“There is another bomb on the bus. Run!” We all sprinted around the corner into Tavistock Place and then, leaning against a wall, I began to shake.
“I’ve called 999, but they aren’t answering,” shouted a passenger. I called my office with the same result. This was odd. My colleagues should have been at work. I called Ann, our office secretary, on her mobile.
“The building has been evacuated. We have all been sent home,” she said, and the line went dead. All mobile networks in London had been suspended. There were no announcements. Public transport had stopped operating.
“We’re too exposed here. Let’s move away,” someone shouted. Hugging the walls, I began to make my way home to Hampstead. Half expecting snipers, I took side streets and ran from doorway to doorway. My mind was racing, trying to make sense of the experience. The streets were deserted. There were no police to ask for guidance. I was nervous and felt unsafe. London was eerily quiet for a weekday morning.
Thoughts whirled through my head – There must have been more attacks. They could be coordinated, like on 9/11. I must get into Regent’s Park, away from danger. Hampstead is outside central London. Florisse should be safe. Tamara is on her gap year in the Far East. She’ ll be safe too.
I only relaxed when I reached the open spaces of the empty park. My knees gave way and I sat down on the nearest bench, looking nervously at every passer-by. By lunchtime I had reached Haverstock Hill. I stopped in a cafe for a coffee and sandwich. There was a television set giving details of co-ordinated bomb attacks on public transport throughout London. Thank God that I was not caught by the suicide bombers on the tube. Mobile networks were switched on again. I called Florisse.
“I’m unharmed, safe and walking back home. Public transport has stopped. I didn’t mention the red double decker bus.
“I’ve been watching it on television. I’ll have a drink ready, when you get home.” She responded calmly. That night my nightmares returned. The following morning, like everyone else in London, I went to work as usual. I was determined to use the Mojito and to avoid public transport, especially the underground. I managed to stick to this resolution for about a month. The same thoughts kept going through my mind
I’ ll be sixty next year. I should be retiring. Working in central London is too stressful.
Florisse was diagnosed with a complex lung disease and was extremely unwell. She found it difficult to climb the stairs to our bedrooms on the second floor and couldn’t wait to move. We bought a house in Belsize Park, modernised it and adapted it to her needs. It was refurbished to create a semi-open plan kitchen, dining and living area on the ground floor with
direct access to a large terrace and garden. Florisse was thrilled with her own bedroom suite and study overlooking the garden. We moved in November.
Chapter 26
Terrible Year 2006
Saddam Hussein was executed in Baghdad, by hanging. North Korea tested its atom bomb and medium-range missile. Another social medium, Twitter was launched. Global stock markets began to overheat. Financial institutions handed out risky mortgages. Issuance of the subprime debt exploded, just as the US housing market peaked. The Federal Reserve ratcheted interest rates to 5.25% and the Bank of England followed. While the stock markets were scaling new heights, these excesses called for a reduction in investments. The housing bubble seemed to be peaking as defaults on mortgages were hitting new highs.
My favourite play, ‘Rock ‘n’ Roll’, by Tom Stoppard, opened at the Royal Court Theatre in London. A delightful film, ‘I Served the King of England’, based on the book by Bohumil Hrabal, was released. Suddenly my life was turned upside down, hit by two massive personal shocks.
It had been a mistake to join Manulife. I had aimed for a less stressful life, by giving up my position in the corporate hierarchy, but I miscalculated. The head office in Toronto developed the habit of bypassing my managing director and dealing directly with me, and he resented it. In my first year, I achieved my objective of raising the performance of the European fund from 4th quartile to 1st quartile by January 2006. These good results, paradoxically, provoked my boss to harass me on a daily basis. The atmosphere at work turned toxic.
