Fuji and nerve control
Many years ago while I was still cutting my teeth as a young banking lawyer in the City of London, I received instructions from the Chase Manhattan Bank to prepare the documentation for the financing of a large shipping vessel. Chase was part of a smallish syndicate of fifteen banks providing the funds for the vessel and, for a large bank like Chase, it was a humdrum, easily digestible transaction. My client at Chase was a charming, young English rose called Vanessa who learned very early in our dealings that all she had to do to make me melt was flutter her eyelids and smile at me.
Vanessa coordinated the comments of the various banks on each draft document that I produced which made for smooth and efficient progress. Being English, Vanessa found it impossible to get her tongue round foreign names. One of the members of the syndicate happened to be a Japanese bank called the Hokkaido Takushoku Bank. Vanessa never bothered attempting to pronounce their name; she instead referred to them constantly as “the Hok Tok Bank”. “Right, Geetar,” she would typically say, “I have some comments from Chase, some from Shitty Bank (Chase’s then rival, Citibank) and none from the Hok Tok Bank.” In keeping with my admiration of Vanessa, I applied her Japanese abbreviation in my documents for the sake of speed. I mean to say, repeatedly writing down or typing “The Hokkaido Takushoku Bank” can rather wear you down.
Once the documentation was agreed, a grand signing ceremony was arranged by Chase in the ballroom of the Hyde Park Hotel. Vanessa and I arrived early to lay out the documents at their appropriate points and to ensure that each guest had a brand new Mont Blanc placed before his seat for the purposes of his signature. When the guests arrived and took their seats, I did what any dogsbody lawyer is paid to do and went round the table from person to person indicating the point at the back of each document where they were to sign it. The bankers chatted amiably amongst themselves while I did this. Vanessa stood at the foot of the table observing my progress. I eventually got to a little Japanese gentleman representing the Hokkaido Takushoku Bank and pointed at the place where I wanted him to sign my document. As his eyes followed my finger he began to moan “Aaah Aaah Aaah!" He then declared with a shout “is not name of bank!” I looked down at my document and my blood froze. At the point reserved for the signature of an authorised signatory of the Hokkaido Takushoko Bank, in bold capital letters stood the name “The Hok Tok Bank”. I stared up at Vanessa and her face was scarlet. Sniggers ran round the table. I wanted to die there and then.
The Hok Tok incident (as I like to call it) put the wind up me to such an extent that I was put off Japan for a very long time – well, at least until I got home and realised that I would have to switch on my Sony television early on the following morning in order to be able to watch qualifying for the Japanese Grand Prix! If the Hok Tok incident was dramatic for me it is also true of virtually every Japanese Grand Prix I have ever watched. For some reason – perhaps the fastness of the Suzuka and Fuji circuits or the fact that the race always comes near the end of the season when blood pressures are unduly high – Japan never produces a dull race.
This is of particular importance for those like me who have spent our lives in banking circles and are now walking about with clenched bum cheeks as the banking world falls off a cliff. At times like these distractions are essential. I traditionally have found mine in tasty totty and motor racing. My association with banking imbues me with an aura of toxicity which causes humans to steer well clear of me for fear of contagion – which pretty much means that the former of my distractions is now rendered well beyond my reach. It is for this reason that the Japanese Grand Prix has extra special significance for me this weekend.
As if our nerves weren’t sufficiently jarred by the nail biting end of the 2007 season, 2008 is proving to be even more of a threat to the continuing health of the nervous system. Lewis Hamilton arrives in Japan with a 7 point lead. This would be reason to be cheerful on most days but given that he approached the last two races of 2007 with a 17 point lead which he then squandered, nothing can be taken for granted. Curiously, the usually erratic Italians seem to have learned nerve control better than the English (perhaps from their long association with a robotic German) over the years. But even this is not to be taken for granted. Felipe Massa’s race was destroyed in Singapore by nothing more than the sheer ineptitude of the Ferrari pit crew. One of the two drivers will almost definitely end up being world champion but which one depends upon nerve control.
Circumstances can come into play too. If it rains in Fuji – as well it might – Lewis Hamilton has a better chance than anybody of winning Sunday’s race. His performance in the wet last year in Fuji and this year at Silverstone and Monaco were so breathtakingly commanding, so brilliant that comparisons with Ayrton Senna do not now seem ridiculous. The Fuji circuit at the base of Japan’s great mountain is, like Spa, more given to wet than dry conditions. It will do my heart the power of good if I switch on the television early on Sunday and see the ITV Formula One crew dressed in their rain gear.
Here’s a positive sign: you know you’ve arrived when traffic policemen adopt you as their fast driver of choice. It has been reported that British traffic policemen’s favourite one liner when pulling over a speeding driver is now: "Who do you think you are - Lewis Hamilton?" That’s progress.
Enjoy Japan!
Gitau
Vanessa coordinated the comments of the various banks on each draft document that I produced which made for smooth and efficient progress. Being English, Vanessa found it impossible to get her tongue round foreign names. One of the members of the syndicate happened to be a Japanese bank called the Hokkaido Takushoku Bank. Vanessa never bothered attempting to pronounce their name; she instead referred to them constantly as “the Hok Tok Bank”. “Right, Geetar,” she would typically say, “I have some comments from Chase, some from Shitty Bank (Chase’s then rival, Citibank) and none from the Hok Tok Bank.” In keeping with my admiration of Vanessa, I applied her Japanese abbreviation in my documents for the sake of speed. I mean to say, repeatedly writing down or typing “The Hokkaido Takushoku Bank” can rather wear you down.
Once the documentation was agreed, a grand signing ceremony was arranged by Chase in the ballroom of the Hyde Park Hotel. Vanessa and I arrived early to lay out the documents at their appropriate points and to ensure that each guest had a brand new Mont Blanc placed before his seat for the purposes of his signature. When the guests arrived and took their seats, I did what any dogsbody lawyer is paid to do and went round the table from person to person indicating the point at the back of each document where they were to sign it. The bankers chatted amiably amongst themselves while I did this. Vanessa stood at the foot of the table observing my progress. I eventually got to a little Japanese gentleman representing the Hokkaido Takushoku Bank and pointed at the place where I wanted him to sign my document. As his eyes followed my finger he began to moan “Aaah Aaah Aaah!" He then declared with a shout “is not name of bank!” I looked down at my document and my blood froze. At the point reserved for the signature of an authorised signatory of the Hokkaido Takushoko Bank, in bold capital letters stood the name “The Hok Tok Bank”. I stared up at Vanessa and her face was scarlet. Sniggers ran round the table. I wanted to die there and then.
The Hok Tok incident (as I like to call it) put the wind up me to such an extent that I was put off Japan for a very long time – well, at least until I got home and realised that I would have to switch on my Sony television early on the following morning in order to be able to watch qualifying for the Japanese Grand Prix! If the Hok Tok incident was dramatic for me it is also true of virtually every Japanese Grand Prix I have ever watched. For some reason – perhaps the fastness of the Suzuka and Fuji circuits or the fact that the race always comes near the end of the season when blood pressures are unduly high – Japan never produces a dull race.
This is of particular importance for those like me who have spent our lives in banking circles and are now walking about with clenched bum cheeks as the banking world falls off a cliff. At times like these distractions are essential. I traditionally have found mine in tasty totty and motor racing. My association with banking imbues me with an aura of toxicity which causes humans to steer well clear of me for fear of contagion – which pretty much means that the former of my distractions is now rendered well beyond my reach. It is for this reason that the Japanese Grand Prix has extra special significance for me this weekend.
As if our nerves weren’t sufficiently jarred by the nail biting end of the 2007 season, 2008 is proving to be even more of a threat to the continuing health of the nervous system. Lewis Hamilton arrives in Japan with a 7 point lead. This would be reason to be cheerful on most days but given that he approached the last two races of 2007 with a 17 point lead which he then squandered, nothing can be taken for granted. Curiously, the usually erratic Italians seem to have learned nerve control better than the English (perhaps from their long association with a robotic German) over the years. But even this is not to be taken for granted. Felipe Massa’s race was destroyed in Singapore by nothing more than the sheer ineptitude of the Ferrari pit crew. One of the two drivers will almost definitely end up being world champion but which one depends upon nerve control.
Circumstances can come into play too. If it rains in Fuji – as well it might – Lewis Hamilton has a better chance than anybody of winning Sunday’s race. His performance in the wet last year in Fuji and this year at Silverstone and Monaco were so breathtakingly commanding, so brilliant that comparisons with Ayrton Senna do not now seem ridiculous. The Fuji circuit at the base of Japan’s great mountain is, like Spa, more given to wet than dry conditions. It will do my heart the power of good if I switch on the television early on Sunday and see the ITV Formula One crew dressed in their rain gear.
Here’s a positive sign: you know you’ve arrived when traffic policemen adopt you as their fast driver of choice. It has been reported that British traffic policemen’s favourite one liner when pulling over a speeding driver is now: "Who do you think you are - Lewis Hamilton?" That’s progress.
Enjoy Japan!
Gitau
posted by Gitau at 11:36 am
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