No. 53: Jelly Worms

Last time I was in Australia I shared a swimming pool with Kim Kardashian and Kanye West (see earlier Note). Ok, so we weren't in the pool at the same time. Minor point.

I am back in Aus and am sharing the experience with The Rolling Stones, 4 Russian warships and the G20 world leaders. Whilst they discuss world trade, terrorism threats and global environmental issues, I am talking 'water' with anyone who will listen. 

I love Australians. They are so positive and 'can do', generous and constantly open to new ideas. Opinionated and questioning, never afraid to tell you if they think you are talking rubbish, but all done with a straight, honest, smiling frankness. It's a cultural thing that seems to flow through their whole national psyche.  

Earlier this week I tried to change one of my flights between Brisbane and Adelaide, the  two main G20 cities, so security was tighter than usual. The kindly, smily, airport staff told me I had to contact my travel agent as only they could change the ticket. It took an incredible 45 minutes on the phone to make the changes, so long in fact that I missed the flight that I had been trying to catch. 

Was I grumpy? No. It was impossible to get annoyed. The airport ticketing staff had opened a fresh huge (literally 10kg!) bag of Australian Jelly Worms and as I stood listening to the mind numbingly dire Muzak on the travel agent's telephone system we ate worms and generally putting the world to rights.

I hope the G20 folk have Australian Jelly Worms. Everyone should have Jelly Worms.

No. 52: The last 48 hours…

…have been fairly hectic, but there have been some memorable moments:

The most strategically important: Following and introduction by Nada Abubakr (Isle Pty, Australia), I met with the AMG Group. Isle is probably going to partner with them in the Middle East. They love the TAG model and understand how it could bring real change to the local utilities. They are also a potential useful source of deals for GWD/Blackstone. (Visit their web site, each page has a different quote from His Highness Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan al Nahyan. He’s a modern day Oscar W).

The most enlightening: The Abu Dhabi cab driver who expressed fervent anger towards his Muslim brothers who has been ‘gifted money by God’ and then invested it in shopping malls. He drew a clear line between those who had amassed their riches from oil, and people like himself who worked for a living. He quoted the Koran with a scripture along the lines of ‘God will give stupid people money, don’t be surprised when they fritter it away’. Aside from the obvious difference in content, the enthusiasm and passion behind his statements wouldn’t have been out of place in a London cab. It was a nice reminder of home. 

The most embarrassing: This happened whilst meeting with a potential new investee company (ie one we might invest in). Everything was going well. The CEO was enthusiastically describing his business plan and I, along with two local Blackstone colleagues, were listening intently. Along with our coffees they had brought us each our own little bowl of snacks; an eclectic mix of nuts, Ritz crackers, mini Mars and Ferrero Rocher chocolates (honestly, no word of a lie). I absentmindedly popped a nut in my mouth and bit down, only then realising that I was eating a whole hazelnut, shell and all. The loud crack as it broke against my teeth resonated around the room. The CEO paused in his talk to see what I would do. Chew and swallow, or spit and dribble?  An age passed as I weighed my options. I swallowed.

To my surprise, the CEO then commended me, stating that it was good for my lower bowel/digestive system. This is just the sort of thing my dad used to say when he was trying to get me to eat more fibre. For a brief moment I felt like I was 10 again.

This whole investment banker thing really is beyond me sometimes.

No. 51: Quick Quiz: Where would you find the Dubai Airport Hotel?

This morning at 1am local time I arrived in Dubai. It has been many years since I was at Dubai airport and as I weaved my way through security I marvelled at how much had changed. Local importers of marble have clearly had a good few years. It’s a bright clean modern airport.

30 min later I cleared customs and walked out of the Arrivals exit. I started looking for signs to the Dubai Airport Hotel. Eventually I asked a friendly looking local and as she pointed back towards the customs area I felt my heart sink. The Dubai Airport Hotel is actually in the airport, before you get to customs. I spent half an hour trying to talk my way back through security but it was clear I wasn’t going to be successful. Arguably the least helpful suggestion for how I could get to my hotel room was for me to change my next flight to an earlier time so I could check in right away, then once I had the boarding pass I could get through security.

The fact that this approach would mean all the meetings I had planned would no longer happen seemed to be a minor aside.

In the end I booked myself into another hotel and chalked it up as yet another thing I learnt after it was too late.

No. 50: Oh dear…

Today I am 45. To use an Oil and Gas analogy, I have reached ‘Peak Piers’, ie there is less time in front of me than there is behind me. Yes despite this I am feeling pretty good.

As I cycled the 18 miles into central London this morning (that’s a whole Note on its own, detailing the cycle-obsessed mid-life crisis that I now share with thousands of other 40+ Londoners) I considered how lucky I was. I have a shiny new job in the City, great friends, a loving family. I am a very lucky bloke.

In Thames Water when you have a birthday the tradition is that the birthday-celebrant buys cakes for the whole team. In Blackstone/Global Water it’s a little different. At 930am my terrific new colleagues appeared with glasses and a bottle of rather fine, very chilled, champagne. It’s not yet 10am and I have downed three glasses. Feeling a bit tipsy actually. And I have a big celebratory lunch with Jeremy Rudd in 3 hours. I think I Luv him.

My cycle home tonight may be a bit more challenging than I expected.

No. 49: My Movember Moment

Here is a story you might want to skip over. Feel free to just press delete. It’s hard to imagine any circumstance where a story about testicles goes down well but, this being Movember month, I thought I would share it. For the unaware, Movember is an international campaign to raise awareness of testicular and prostate cancer. It involves men (and women? Let’s not be sexist) growing moustaches during the month of November for charity.

My story starts at a recent Bupa health check-up. All was going well until they asked if I wanted to have my testicles checked. Why not, I thought. On went the rubber gloves, down came my trousers. For the next 5 minutes a lady in her late 50s squeezed and prodded in a way that really shouldn’t be allowed. She noted that one hangs higher than the other. This is normal I have now learnt, apparently the left testicle is usually the lower one. Who would have guessed? (I can safely guarantee that every male reading this is, right now, having a quick feel to check themselves).

Anyway my doctor declared that I needed a scan. My right testicle ‘didn’t feel right’. I pointed out it had always felt like that but she wasn’t persuaded. She put on her ‘this is serious’ face and told me I needed a proper scan within 10 days. So last night I found myself at Epsom Hospital.

Here a man smeared some sort of jelly over my balls and then proceeded to spend 15 minutes taking pictures of them with his special handheld ultrasonic device. It’s the sort of thing that I am sure some people pay good money for. Not me. I found myself missing the touch of my earlier older, substantially more gentle, female doctor.

As you might imagine, I made cumbersome jokes about how after four children and a vasectomy 13 years ago I no longer needed them. He didn’t crack a smile. He merely stated that I had hydroseals and cysts. This didn’t sound good. I was briefly worried. He then went on to say that this was typical of someone of my age, that every 45 year old male on the planet had them, and there was nothing I could do about it anyway. He finished by saying that if they ever hurt then they could ‘cut it out’.

I wasn’t sure what his ‘it’ referred to. I didn’t want to ask. I wiped myself down, got dressed and left, feeling like I had be slightly infringed and interfered with.

Somewhere on the servers of Epsom Hospital there are detailed images of my balls. I hope they make good use of them.