ONFORM Magazine - Summer 2012

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ONFORM Summer 2012

Grant Work, life and the insanity of Hollywood

Venture Capital Trusts

Tax-efficient investment opportunities

The World’s Sexiest Car? Our verdict on the Jaguar E-Type

Life in the Fast Lane

Jody Scheckter on racing and farming

A Tale of Two Cities

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EDITORIAL Right: Richard E. Grant and Paul McGann surviving the Lake District in Withnail & I

From the

Editor For the first time in my career, I am suffering from writer’s block. No other profession has such a meaningless excuse for not doing any work. Only in publishing is the inability to do one’s job seen as some kind of existential struggle. It’s the perfect scapegoat, a con, a trick of the pen. I asked one of the publishers of this magazine what he thought I should write about this issue. Apparently it’s my job to decide. Funnily enough, I knew that, but it still doesn’t make the process any easier. Typically, I should write about what the magazine encompasses – style, finance, products, people, places – but I’m just not feeling inspired right now. Instead, this article has gone through countless incarnations, different themes, rewrites and resignations, while, in the meantime, I’ve churned out words on subjects that I can barely grasp, such as high frequency trading and the impact of climate change on insects. Go figure. The last notable thing I did, however, was go on a stag do. It wasn’t my stag do, but a friend’s: a survival weekend, which was less about surviving and more about enduring precipitation. It was obvious from the start that two of us weren’t cut out for the task. Indeed, when asked to dress appropriately, my immediate thought was ‘I always dress appropriately’. Apparently, a trim black leather jacket, black t-shirt, slim jeans and Converse shoes are not considered particularly suitable for survival. Neither were fellow best man’s brown suit trousers and outrageously-priced Italian leather shoes. Damn right we were dressed appropriately – we were the coolest cats in the Lake District. As a general rule-of-thumb, credit cards get you very little in the wilderness. Thus, we learned to build shelters, make fire, cook food, create traps, get rescued – the usual guff associated with survival. How they expect you to build a fire in the rain, though, is beyond me. It’s lucky I had a lighter. We were literally and metaphorically pissing in the wind. One of us even got food poisoning from an ill-prepared herring. It was brilliant fun, sure, but it made me realise how much I love city breaks at haughty hotels, with comfy beds, decent food, cocktails, toilets and less men. Endurances like these make you appreciate the finer things in life, stripping you of work, comforts, mobile phones,

superfluities and indulgences, and supplanting them with basic ingenuity, of which I have very little. We did go on a jaunt to the closest town of Kendal, which was billed as a night of pure hedonism, boasting ‘luscious ladies of the Lake District’, but turned out to be an extension of the survival course. And trying to convince the locals that perry served in a flute is not the same as champagne is a hapless endeavour. Some pretty nefarious advertising there, Kendal – thanks.

“It made me realise how much I love city breaks at haughty hotels, with comfy beds, decent food, cocktails, toilets and less men” Speaking of surviving in the Lake District, Richard E. Grant did a far better job of it in Withnail & I. This issue, Emma Inglis meets Grant to discuss his most famous role, as well as his current project, which is currently filming in Los Angeles. Also, alongside our regular dose of finance, fashion and food, Graeme Morpeth visits former-racing driver Jody Scheckter’s organic farm, Peter Robinson interviews deejaying legend Fatboy Slim, and Huw Thomas explores Las Vegas and San Francisco. Looking ahead, my next trip is to China. Now this is more my kind of getaway: business-class flights, five-star accommodation, and vast history and culture. Granted, there’s lots of raw fish, but not a bloody campfire in sight. You’ll be able to read about it next issue, providing I don’t hit any literary brick walls – although it seems writer’s block extends to visa applications too. I’m sure I’ll survive. Until next time, stay on form. Laith Al-Kaisy Editor-in-Chief

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CREDITS

Contributors Huw Thomas Thomas splits his time between business and pleasure. He has written about travel and tourism for Reader’s Digest, Insight Guides, and Visit Britain, among others. He also covers finance and financial technology for a number of magazines and websites. This issue, Thomas unravels a tale of two cities – San Francisco and Las Vegas – on page 16

David Minns Something of a renaissance man, Minns loves nothing more than dressing for an occasion, and encouraging others to do the same. In his capacity as Senior Style Advisor for A Suit That Fits, he literally dresses the nation. This issue, Minns discusses the excitement of being asked to restore an old faithful on page 47

Emma Inglis Inglis cut her teeth on newspapers back in the nineties. More recently she has returned to freelance journalism after a stint at screenwriting and fiction. She now specialises in travel, food and style, most recently writing for Condé Nast Publications. Inglis scoops our exclusive cover story this issue, interviewing Richard E. Grant on page 34

Graeme Morpeth Morpeth is an engineer with a love of all things mechanical and automotive. His motoring articles reflect this, as well as a profound knowledge of the oily bits that make them work. A recent move into travel writing has seen even flashier prose. Our road warrior reviews the Jaguar E-Type on page, and interviews Jody Scheckter on page 9

Peter J. Robinson Robinson is our Publishing Director by day and socialite by night. Continually picking the short straw means regular travel to places like New York and Zermatt. His occupation appears to be general jet setting and interviewing the glitterati. Among other pieces, Robinson interviews legendary deejay Norman Cook on page 28

Ben Brundell Brundell is a cinephile and writes on all matters film. He will put pen to paper on other subjects in the near future too. In addition to fulfilling his duties as a film critic, Brundell has produced his own short films and worked as an editor. He discusses the latest cinema and DVD releases on page 76

Charlotte Woods Having studied and worked in London and now Bristol, Woods takes a short vacation from illustration to preview the latest offering from the Tate’s ‘Raw Materials’ exhibition. She looks at some of the pioneers of contemporary art, who are united by their use of language and unconventional media, on page 77

The Usual Suspects Laith Al-Kaisy – Editor-in-Chief – laith@gmmpublishing.com Andrew Hobson – Art Director – andrew@gmmpublishing.com Peter Robinson – Publishing Director – peter@gmmpublishing.com Adam Wood – Director – adam@gmmpublishing.com

Models: Karolina Bill, Alycia Blackman, Jackie Boonnam, Laura Cherry, Lara Cassar Delia Photographer: James Billet, Moritz Stragholz (fashion shoot) Production Agent: Clare Wilson Hair & Makeup Stylist: Roseanna Velin

GMM Publishing First Floor, Prudential Buildings, 11-19 Wine Street, Bristol, UK BS1 2PH | +44 (0)117 3702 471 | gmmpublishing.com GMM Publishing is a trading name of Get Media Management LTD registered in England at 1st Floor, Prudential Buildings, 11-19 Wine Street, Bristol, BS1 2PH, Company Registration Number; 07663086. All content Copyright © 2012, Get Media Management Ltd ONF ORM Magazine’s content (including any information we publish regarding Third Party Products) is only for your general information and entertainment purposes and is not intended to address your particular requirements. In particular, any content publishing within this magazine, or on onformmagazine.com, does not constitute any form of advice, recommendation, representation, endorsement or arrangement by ONF ORM Magazine. It is not intended to be and should not be relied upon by readers in making (or refraining from making) any specific investment, purchase, sale or other decisions. Appropriate independent advice should be obtained before making any such decision, such as from a qualified financial adviser. Any agreements, transactions or other arrangements made between you and any third party named within ONF ORM Magazine are at your own responsibility and entered into at your own risk. Any information that you receive via ONF ORM Magazine, whether or not it is classified as ”real time”, may have stopped being current by the time it reaches you. Share price information may be rounded up/down and therefore may not be entirely accurate.

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CONTENTS

28 Cover Story 34. Richard E. Grant

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Money & Business 24. Venture Capital Trusts 42. It’s all Greek to me 59. Leadership cruise Air, Land & Sea 21. Jaguar E-Type 30. Kestrel superyachts 32. Victor Jets 62. Private Jet Charter 72. Goodwood Festival Food & Drink 15. The Roca brothers 64. Gillray’s, London 67. Bordeaux wine 70. Roast, London

“The E-Type became as synonymous with the Swinging Sixties as The Beatles” 6 Summer 2012

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CONTENTS

26 09

“Withnail was a gift of a role. It led to almost every other job I’ve had over the past 25 years”

34

Style 47. The Advisory 50. Swimwear shoot 78. Objets du désir

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Travel 16. Western promises 44. Scarlet Hotel & Spa Property 38. Villa Lauriston, California 40. Château Seguin, Bordeaux Culture 09. Jody Scheckter 26. Snowbombing Festival 28. Fatboy Slim 74. Polo for the Brave 76. Reel talk 77. Raw materials

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I N T E R V I E W: J O D Y S C H E C K T E R

Once a feared racing driver, Jody Scheckter tells Graeme Morpeth how he’s reinvented himself as an organic farmer.

It was Ernest Hemingway who observed,

‘There are only three sports: bullfighting, motor racing, and mountaineering; all the rest are merely games’. He based this observation on the fact that the participants in these three sports regularly put their lives on the line in pursuit of victory. During the 1970s, thirteen F1 racing drivers died pursuing their individual dreams of glory. The drivers who survived were blessed with sang-froid, steely determination, and skill beyond most people’s comprehension, which allowed them to throw F1 cars around tracks, varying from The Ring to Monaco, where overtaking is almost impossible and mistakes often fatal. Jody Scheckter is such a driver; a literal and metaphorical heavyweight. His start in competitive motor racing came on the tracks of Southern Africa, where he battled in a home-built, supercharged Renault 8, which he learned to drive in an outrageous, flat-out style (not entirely suited to F1!). His first real break came when Ford offered him a drive in the Formula Ford Sunshine series. The prize for his third

Life in the

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“He exploded onto the F1 scene as a pugnacious, erratic, accidentprone wild-man, a spinner of spanners and crasher of cars”

Graeme Morpeth is taken on an insightful tour of Scheckter’s racing car collection and organic farm.

place was £300, air tickets to Europe, and a chance to join the 1971 ‘Driver to Europe Scholarship’ with Merlyn Racing, driving a Merlyn Formula Ford car. Was this the ‘big step’, I wondered. “Yes, they were all pretty big steps really,” reflects Scheckter. “Coming over here was big though. It was my first time out of South Africa and I didn’t have any money.” This was the start of a twelve-year career that culminated in his 1979 F1 World Championship with Ferrari. At Monza. In front of the Tifosi. It doesn’t get much better than that. Scheckter’s route was not an easy one. He exploded onto the F1 scene as a pugnacious, erratic, accident-prone wild-man, a spinner of spanners and crasher of cars. His debut, as a trial driver for McLaren in the 1972 US F1 at Watkins Glen, saw him run as high as third place, before spinning and eventu-

ally finishing ninth. McLaren were impressed enough to contract him as an occasional driver for the 1973 season. In France, he almost won in his third start in F1, before crashing with Emerson Fittipaldi, the then-reigning World Champion, who said after the crash, “This madman [Scheckter] is a menace to himself and everybody else and does not belong in Formula 1.” Scheckter raised the metaphorical finger by reminding Fittipaldi that he had taken 42 laps to reach him, and that he (Scheckter) would do the same thing again. In his next start, in the 1973 British Grand Prix at Silverstone, Scheckter was involved in a huge accident after sliding off the track and onto the grass at Woodcote corner. He finished up pointing across the track in front of the rest of the following cars. Miraculously, of the eleven drivers involved in the accident, only one suffered minor injuries. Unfortunately, eleven cars were written off, including all three of John Surtees’. He instructed him to stay in the McLaren motor-home, “because John Surtees was going to kill him for destroying all three of his cars.” The Grand Prix Drivers Association demanded his immediate banishment, which was only put off when McLaren agreed to rest their driver for four races. He continued his development during this year, in the USA, winning the 1973 SCCA Formula 5000 championship, racing in the Can-Am series, and five times in F1. It was a busy year for him: “I did nineteen races between May and October, and sat on a lot of aeroplanes.” Despite crashing with Francois Cevert’s Tyrell during the 1973 Canadian Grand Prix, and writing off both cars in the process, Ken Tyrrell gave him his first full-time drive in F1 for the 1974 season, in anticipa-

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tion of Jackie Stewart’s retirement at the end of the ‘73 season. Jody rewarded him with a third-place finish in the Drivers’ Championship, and a pair of wins in Sweden and Britain. The ‘73 season was a turning point for Scheckter. Francois Cevert crashed during practice for the 1973 US FI race at Watkins Glen and died instantly of massive injuries inflicted by the crash barrier. When he saw the accident, Scheckter stopped his car and ran to assist. “It was the first time I’d seen someone get killed,” he remembers. “You always thought it wasn’t going to happen to you, but when you went after that, you realised it could happen to you.” To this day, he doesn’t remember anything about seeing Cevert in the crashed car. From that moment on, Jody Scheckter told himself that all he was trying to do in F1 was to save his own life. He was further mentored by Ken Tyrrell, who insisted that he concentrate on his driving to win races. It was a difficult time for him, joining Tyrrell and inheriting Jackie Stewart’s legacy, with the team expectation that he would adopt Stewart’s methods and philosophies. “They wanted me to try and copy him all the time or be like him, because they had been so successful, you can understand that. I still tried to fight for what I wanted and how I wanted it.” His ‘75 season was not so successful, although he became the only South African to win the South African Grand Prix, and in 1976, he was 3rd overall in the Drivers’ Championship. During 1976, Tyrrell introduced the six-wheeled Tyrell P34, which Scheckter endured, but didn’t like at all. Nevertheless, he gave the car its only win on Sweden’s Anderstorp circuit. However, Tyrrell’s cars were running too far behind the technological curve for Scheckter, and he left for Walter Wolf’s new team in 1977. He stayed for two years, finishing second on points behind Niki Lauda in ‘77, and seventh overall in ‘78. He left the team after the

‘78 season to join Ferrari, and partner Gilles Villeneuve in the team’s ground-effect 312T series cars Enzo Ferrari – ‘Il Commendatore’ – had spent nearly three years courting Scheckter. “I had been up there several times before, talking to him about possibly joining,” he recalls. “And there I was, going to his place to have lunch when I was there.” The move had been widely expected in F1 circles. What Scheckter didn’t expect when he arrived, however, was that the lunches stopped and Il Commendatore virtually ignored him. “As soon as he signed me up and I went there for the first day, he didn’t invite me back. It was his way of putting everyone ill at ease.” Many thought he would not do well at Ferrari, where Enzo was a revered figure, frightening to most. He proved them wrong and won the Drivers’ Championship in 1979. To this day, he has his winning Ferrari 312T4 stored away in a converted stable block behind the main house at Laverstoke Park. After managing only two points in the 1980 season, Scheckter retired from the team and the sport. He was the last to win a Drivers’ Championship for Ferrari, until Michael Schumacher, 21 years later. What happens, though, when all this drive and determination has to stop racing? Some racing drivers retire, never to be heard of again. Others maintain their involvement in the sport in some way: David Coulthard comments on F1 racing for the BBC and drives in the German DTM series; Damon Hill became President of the British Racing Drivers Club. Others set up their own businesses. Lauda set up an airline. Scheckter, in 1984, set up a company in Atlanta, Georgia, called Firearms Training Systems (FATS), which specialised in small firearms training simulator packages, aimed principally at law enforcement agencies. It became the world leader, cornering 95% of the world market. Why did he sell it? Ultimately, he was persuaded by a combination of his wife, who wanted to return to the UK, and his

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business partner. The company had experienced tremendous growth over the three years prior to the sale, in the region of $20M, $60M and $100M, was employing 280 people, and trading in 35 countries. He sold it for $400m. During his time in the US, Scheckter had owned a farm. He became interested in organic farming as a result of a gift – a book about organic farming, from Clare, his second wife. “I just started reading about organics and it seemed to make a lot of sense,” says Scheckter. It was a logical extension of this interest that prompted him to buy 530 acres of prime Hampshire farmland, including Laverstoke House, a Grade 2 listed Georgian manor house, upon his return to the UK. His initial plan was to use the farm to feed his family. “It started as a hobby for me and my family, producing the best, tastiest, healthiest food.” Great theory, but the practice – eating beef for eight weeks solid after slaughtering a cow – caused a change of plan. The obvious thing to do was to sell the beef. As they say, the rest is history. With typical attention to detail, he set about turning the farm into an organic farming showpiece, endlessly researching the practice and theory of organic farming. “I always knew that if I did something and I didn’t concentrate at 110%, I’d do very badly at it,” he confesses. Such is the relentless drive for perfection that this farm has a laboratory, the only one of its kind in Europe, designed by Dr. Elaine Ingham, one of the world’s leading authorities on soil micro-biology. The laboratory has two main functions: chemical analysis of the soils, feed-stocks and fertilisers, micro-biological analyses of soil samples, and meat from slaughtered animals. It is a wonderful example of science being used to nurture nature – but not destroy it. His abattoir design is another example of this attention to detail. Stressed animals, when slaughtered, often produce oddly flavoured meat. Scheckter had his facility designed by Temple Grandin, a world authority on animal psychology. He explains, “Animals get stressed from noise, from being thirsty, and don’t really want to go into a dark place.” Laverstoke’s abattoir is bright, airy and quiet, a place where animals are made to feel comfortable, before being taken off. It is, he maintains, “The most critical place for producing good meat.” Make a mistake here and the meat just won’t be right. Another key element in this holistic farming process is bio-diversity. Scheckter says, “We have thirty-one herbs, clovers and grasses. If you think that a normal farm would have rye grass, and an organic farm may have rye grass and some clover, I’ve gone much further. All of them are old, deep-rooted varieties, which are left to flourish. It is one of the main reasons why the animals are so healthy and the meat so good.” Did this contribute to the slower growth of his animals, I wonder. “No,” he replies, “most of my animals are rare, or older type breeds, like Herefords and Angus oxen, because they grow slower, they’re healthier, and they taste better.” His water buffalo herd is some 3000-strong, providing milk for mozzarella, ice cream (absolutely the best I’ve ever tasted) and ricotta production. There is, though, more – much more –to this farming operation than just farming. We talked about his award-winning organic wines (“Made from traditional pinot noir, pinot meunier and chardonnay grapes, grown on 35km of vines, planted on nine hectares, and tended to by a couple of experts”) and prize-winning organic beers (“Made from a variety of hops dating from the beginning of the 19th century, and not grown in England for the better part of a century”). As with his racing career, awards and prizes arrive as tributes to his attention to detail and fierce determination to succeed. Scheckter is philosophical about the operation, insisting to anyone who listens that “In a couple of years, I want to retire and lie on a beach.” Somehow, I just can’t see him lying on a beach. Not unless it’s winning awards for being the best beach of its type, of course.

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CUISINE: CELLER DE CAN ROCA

“We have created a conceptual and technical revolution” Celler de Can Roca sits at number two on the ‘World’s 50 Best Restaurants’ list. Based in the Catalan city of Girona, the eponymous restaurant is run by three brothers: head chef Joan, dessert chef Jordi, and sommelier Josep. Together, they have taken their philosophy, which plays on memory and perception, to a three-Michelin-star level. We met with Joan to discuss the Roca brothers’ culinary ideology, and what it takes to serve the best food in the world. How did you, three brothers, all develop a passion for food and wine? We are the third generation of a family dedicated to restaurants. We were born and grew up in a family restaurant environment, which is where we felt comfortable, so we decided to dedicate ourselves to the trade. What is the philosophy behind El Celler de Can Roca? Our kitchen is committed to traditional Catalan cuisine, to the environment, to sustainability, and also to the science of culinary evolution. You serve ‘emotional cuisine’. How important is psychology in the creation and eating of food? Through food, we play with people’s memories and their perceptions. Tasting and smelling can influence people´s emotional state. Apart from food, what are the key factors to running a successful restaurant? Wine is extremely important to have a complete experience. In our restaurant, the wine is as important as the food. Why is it so important for a restaurant to have a knowledgeable sommelier? Having a sommelier who is involved in the creative process can turn the marriage of food and wine into something sublime. Which chefs influenced you? The chef that has influenced me the most is my mother, who still cooks in the family restaurant, Can Roca.

What are your most popular dishes? One of the dishes that has become very popular is also the one where we take the most risk: la ostra con destilado de tierra (oyster with a distillate of earth). How important is Spanish culture to your cooking? Our cuisine is committed to our culture, our land, to Catalan produce and traditions. How has food evolved in Spain over the years? We have a great gastronomic tradition. We are in a privileged geographic position that allows us to obtain produce of the finest quality. Over the last few years, and thanks to the nonconformity of our chefs, notably Ferran Adria, we have created a conceptual and technical revolution, which has advanced the kitchen greatly towards a more creative edge. Do you have any favourite English chefs or restaurants? I rate and admire the work of Heston Blumenthal in England. Is it hard work to maintain your Michelin standards? When we work, our number one priority is to not disappoint the customers who come to eat in our restaurant. We do this enthusiastically. And while we are grateful for the recognition the guide gives us, we do not want to make it an obsession. We just want to enjoy what we do.

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T R AV E L

Western Promises From San Francisco to Las Vegas and back again, Huw Thomas finds a tale of two cities that is equal parts glitter and grit.

I

t’s well past midnight in a smoky casino flooded with a cacophony of light and sound. Across the roulette table a somewhat worsefor-wear gambler celebrates a big win by sitting down and noisily missing her chair. I can see at least three Elvis impersonators. This is Las Vegas and it is driving me slightly mad. But let’s rewind a little. When I first make landfall in the USA, it is in San Francisco, nearly 600 miles distant from Sin City. The plan is simple. A few days in San Francisco ahead of a long drive through California towards Las Vegas, before an internal flight brings me back to my starting point, and then home. My last visit to San Francisco was on a family holiday almost 20 years previous and it will be my first time in Vegas. Any hope that I might enjoy a bit of California sunshine is shortlived. With typically impeccable timing, my arrival in the city coincides with one of the biggest storms in recent memory. The local news covers stories of floods and fallen trees as if reporting the coming apocalypse. As a Brit, and therefore largely impervious to the effects of precipitation, it doesn’t look that bad. Donning the most waterproof clothing I can find in my bag, I set out to explore. Even in bad weather, San Francisco’s incomparable geography cannot fail to impress. Those vertiginous streets, sloping in stages to the bridge-spanned bay, are unlike anywhere else on Earth. For those used to the haphazard layout of European cities, the grid pattern employed in America can seem strangely antiseptic and mechanical. San Francisco’s undulating terrain crumples these grids into fantastic shapes, providing fresh surprises round every corner and over the brow of each rise.

A vigorous climb up the wooded slopes of Telegraph Hill to Coit Tower offers a widescreen view of the city. From this vantage point I spy many of San Francisco’s most famous sights: the grand old buildings of Nob Hill, the jagged spire of the Transamerica Pyramid and, out in the bay, the perfectly isolated island of Alacatraz, my next port of call. Arriving in heavy seas, driving rain and gale-force winds gives an impressively authentic start to the Alcatraz experience. One can only imagine what it must have felt like to those who were arriving for a more protracted stay. On the walk up to the main prison building, the complex’s crumbling structures create an oppressive atmosphere, an effect only amplified by the slate-grey skies. But the thing that elevates Alcatraz from being just another tourist attraction lies inside. It is a spectacular audio tour, where former guards and prisoners recount their stories in their own words. This narration gives a haunting immediacy to the fundamentals of life on The Rock, with little details often having the biggest impact. One inmate tells of time spent in the total blackout of solitary confinement. He would remove a button from his prison fatigues and throw it across the cell, before scrabbling in the darkness to locate it. This process would be repeated again and again to counteract the unbalancing effects of isolation and sensory deprivation. Visitors are invited inside one of the cells as the door is slammed shut. Standing in the complete blackness, it’s hard not to feel a little empathy for those men held here, regardless of the crimes they committed.

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Today, Haight is trying to hang onto the edginess that made it famous, while also offering a more conventional tourist experience, a sort of Disneyland for the hippie movement. It’s an effort that leads to inevitable tension. The grittier aspects of Haight’s heritage remain very much in evidence. The pavements are dotted with people for whom living outside the structures of society has become a necessity rather than a choice. Whether they are casualties of their own attempts to prise open the doors of perception or victims of other cultural ills, their presence is more keenly felt here than in any other part of the city. Every storefront carries stern admonishments against loiterers, while warnings that bathrooms are for the use of customers only are particularly vociferous. At the end of Haight Street lies the entrance to Golden Gate Park, which prominent signs proclaim to be a drug-free zone. These were clearly erected by a city planner with a dark sense of humour. I’m approached by a hustler within moments of entering, and all around are small groups of people engaged in furtive conversation clearly driven by commerce rather than friendship.

“While a lot has changed since those early days, the city is still powered by the twin currents of sex and money” But it’s because of this grime that Haight Ashbury still feels like a real place. This is a neighbourhood that needs to have some dirt under its fingernails if it isn’t to become a complete parody of itself. While it’s clearly not what it was in its prime, it’s still a living, breathing entity. This will only become more apparent as I leave San Francisco for the second leg of my journey.

Upping the Ante

Love Haight Relationship As the epicentre of the counter-cultural explosion in the 1960s, the Haight Ashbury district was instrumental in cementing San Francisco’s peace-and-free-love image. It was here that countless spiritual travellers came to tune in, turn on and drop out, lured by the thought that they could really change the world. Or perhaps by all that aforementioned free love. This heritage is excellently illustrated at the Red Victorian, a B&B, peace centre and living relic of Haight’s beatnik history. Founded and run by artist-in-residence Sami Sunchild, it still serves up healthy portions of new-age thinking alongside its meals. As I enjoy a vegetarian breakfast burrito, I overhear a member of staff ask another customer “So, what do you do for peace?” Pleased that these things still matter here, but equally terrified I’m going to be posed a similar question, I head for the streets.

Arriving in Las Vegas by car gives a powerful first impression of the city’s essential improbability. After hours of driving through featureless desert, only intermittently interrupted by small roadside towns, the sudden bloom of high-rise buildings is a shock to the senses. You can’t help but feel that it’s some kind of mirage. Something so big has no business being in a place like this. But as you get closer, it’s also striking just how familiar it all feels. Vegas is an endlessly photographed city, a living movie set. The massive signs advertising magic shows, Cirque du Soleil and Celine Dion are all present and correct. Even in bright sunshine, the light-bedecked Strip could not be anywhere else. It is the tail end of spring break and Las Vegas’ streets are thronged with inebriated college students, many clutching massive plastic chalices filled with unidentifiable liquor in varying shades of purple and blue. It’s the first clear sign of the anything-goes ethos that characterises the city. People move from casino to casino, freely drinking and smoking as they go. For a UK resident, that this is not only tolerated, but actively encouraged is hard to comprehend. At one point I ask a barman for a plastic glass so I can take an unfinished drink out onto the street. He looks at me as if I have requested a back rub. On my first night in town, I escape the crowds for dinner at the glitzy Lakeside restaurant in the Wynn hotel and casino. This is high-class Vegas, a world away from the sunburnt co-eds and their Technicolor beverages. However this exclusivity comes at a price. I am served with a chunk of mesquite-smoked prime rib as massive as it is eye-wateringly expensive, washed down with a Californian red that would be completely unremarkable if not for its astonishing cost. There’s nothing intrinsically

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wrong with the meal, it’s just that you get the feeling luxury is denoted by the number of zeroes on the bill, rather than actual quality. The upmarket stylings are part of a growing trend here in Vegas. The Wynn, along with other recent developments, such as City Center, is clearly shooting for a more discerning market than your average Johnny Six-pack. More modern and minimalist in design, they are aimed at the five-star traveller seeking something refined, rather than the fairytale-inspired towers of Excalibur or the plastic Manhattan skyline of New York, New York. But even here, amid the fine china and expertly attentive service, Vegas’ tackier roots can’t help but peek through. One of Lakeside’s unique selling points is the titular water feature that provides diners with a pleasingly tranquil backdrop. However, at one mystifying point during the evening, it becomes the scene of a son et lumiere show, culminating in the emergence of a gargantuan animatronic frog seemingly lip-synching to modern pop hits. As entertaining as this undoubtedly is, it seems strangely out of place in a venue that defines itself by its good taste. It’s like hanging fluffy dice in the windscreen of a new Bentley.

Dirty Money It’s slightly ironic that Vegas, surely among the world’s most naked expressions of the free market, owes much of its lustre to one of the largest government spending programmes in history. It was during the Great Depression when tens of thousands of workers were employed in the construction of the nearby Hoover Dam, that the Las Vegas city fathers spied an opportunity. Far away from home and family, these workers needed off-duty pleasures, and not necessarily wholesome ones. Casinos, saloons and shows with plenty of female flesh sprang up at an incredible rate. Thus, modern Las Vegas was born. While a lot has changed since those early days, the city is still powered by the twin currents of sex and money. For proof of this, look no further than the touts offering escort services littering every sidewalk. The air echoes with the sound of them snapping flyers against their fingers in an attempt to grab your attention, like cicadas with strange sexual overtones. What’s particularly eye-opening is how completely normalised it is. Every tout wears a brightly coloured shirt bedecked with phone numbers and the promise to deliver a girl to your room within 20 minutes, as if you’re ordering a pizza. They’re like the charity muggers that throng UK high streets, merely offering sex on demand rather than the opportunity to donate a fiver a week to Oxfam.

The casinos also get in on the act. Female serving staff are invariably dressed in uniforms that reveal more flesh than a butcher’s shop window, while in certain gambling halls you can enjoy some full-on pole-dancing as you lose the kids’ college fund. Without wishing to come over all Germaine Greer, this is not a place with a particularly enlightened view on women. Despite the large numbers of female gamblers at the tables, not once did I see a Chippendales-esque barman clad in only Speedos and a bow tie. So much for equality. It’s easy to see the appeal of Las Vegas. It’s essentially a theme park for grown-ups, all flashing lights and sugary highs. There is an undeniable thrill at seeing the Strip lit up at night for the first time and the city’s sheer commitment to pure hedonism has an incredibly intoxicating quality. But at the same time, it’s impossible to escape the place’s essential emptiness. After a few nights the casinos all begin to look the same and I start to resent the relentless efforts to prise more dollar bills from my pocket. Ultimately, Las Vegas is one of the most incredibly impressive and totally pointless examples of human ingenuity. The city throbs with energy, continually tearing itself down and rebuilding in search of the next high, but it exists only to service itself. You can’t help wondering what might be achieved if the creative force expended on the place was directed differently. Like junk food, it’s tremendous fun in small doses, but take in too much and it can leave you feeling a little nauseous. Of course, it is entirely possible that I am in the minority, a likelihood evidenced by the millions of people who flock here every year, eager to spend their cash. Underlying everything, though, is the inescapable feeling that the world wouldn’t necessarily be a worse place if Las Vegas had never existed. It’s a sensation only reinforced when I return to San Francisco for my final night in the States. I head to the Tonga Room & Hurricane Bar, a venerable night spot in the Fairmont Hotel on Nob Hill. Under any normal circumstances the Tiki themed venue, complete with indoor rainstorms and lagoon, might be considered a little cheesy. After the excesses of Vegas it feels like the very epitome of good taste. It undoubtedly helps that the Tonga serves some truly outstanding cocktails, including what is widely reputed to be the best Mai Tai in town. What makes the difference is the feeling of history here. The Tonga has been open since 1945 and there’s a palpable sense that the walls have stories to tell. In Las Vegas, where commerce invariably trumps permanence, it would probably have been demolished and replaced decades ago. As I slowly work my way through the cocktail menu before stumbling out into the night, I can’t help but feel that would have been a terrible shame.

18 Summer 2012

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MOTORING

T

he E-Type was first presented to the world’s press at the Restaurant du Parc des Eaux Vives, in Geneva on 15 March 1961, a launch timed to coincide with the Geneva Motor Show of the same year. Such was the media excitement and clamour for demonstration runs up a nearby hill-climb that Jaguar founder Sir William Lyons instructed chief test driver Norman Dewis to drive through the night to bring another model to Switzerland. Dewis, who was one of the team drivers for the ‘55 Le Mans Team, took eleven hours to drive from Calais to Geneva. Averaging 68mph, across France. On nonmotorway roads. In a factory-fresh car. Strewth! When Enzo Ferrari saw the new Jaguar E-Type, he pronounced it ‘the most beautiful car in the world’, and he was not a man known for his compliments. He so enraged Ferruccio Lamborghini, who com-

plained to Il Commendatore about faults on his Ferrari, that he vowed to make his own cars, and that they would be better than Ferrari’s. And so the Raging Bull arose as a competitor to the Prancing Horse. The E-Type is the ultimate four-wheeled phallus, an object so sexually charged that, when painted red, it looked like an orgasm on wheels. The styling for this masterpiece had, as usual for Jaguar, been guided by the hand of Sir William Lyons. William Heynes (the engineer in overall charge of the project, and designer of the XK series engines) and Malcolm Sayer (the designer, who had been an aerodynamicist with the Bristol Aircraft Company, and was responsible for the final bodywork form) were jointly responsible for actually putting it into production. It was broadly based on the design of the D-Type, the racing Jaguar that Mike Hawthorn drove to victory in the 1955 Le Mans. The D-Type was based on the C-Type, which was based on the XK120C (Competition); Jaguar were nothing if not prosaic with their model nomenclatures. There were no A or B Types.

Sex on wheels The Jaguar E-Type leaves Graeme Morpeth weak at the knees

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Technically, the E-Type was not such a great leap forward, but it did showcase two significant pieces of cutting-edge automotive technology: disc brakes all round and a sub-frame mounted, independent rear suspension set-up that was used on every Jaguar thereafter until the mid-80s. “Half a century of progress has not diminished the significance of the E-Type,” said Mike O’Driscoll (Managing Director, Jaguar Cars and Chairman, Jaguar Heritage) in 2011 on the occasion of the E-Type’s fiftieth birthday. “It was a sensation when it was launched and remains Jaguar’s most enduring and iconic symbol.” E-Type owners included celebrities such as George Best, Brigitte Bardot, Tony Curtis and Steve McQueen, and it became as synonymous with the Swinging Sixties as the Beatles and the mini skirt. “It is impossible to overstate the impact the E-Type had when it was unveiled in 1961,” said Ian Callum, Jaguar Design Director. “Here was a car that encapsulated the spirit of the revolutionary era it came to symbolise. The E-Type is a design that, even today, continues to inform the work we do in styling the Jaguars of the future.”

“Hard acceleration sounded much like Odin, standing in the halls of Valhalla, calling across to Mimir” The E-Type’s competitors were either hand-made, foreign, more expensive, or all three – think Aston Martin DB4GT, Ferrari 250GT or Maserati 3500GT. When Autocar tested the 3.8 litre 2+2 in March 1961, it was priced at about £2400. The Aston cost £4084, and the Ferrari and the Maserati cost the same or more, depending upon the specification. Jaguar historian Philip Porter, who runs the E-type Club and owns several examples himself, commented “There’s a huge spread of values from £5000 up to £200,000 – or £1 million for a genuine ally-bodied lightweight racer. For those wishing to have something more individual, Eagle probably represent the peak of the rebuilding companies.” I had the opportunity of driving a couple of these iconic machines at the end of May, in the company of Paul Brace, General Manager of Eagle Racing, otherwise known as Eagle Jags, and manufacturer of the stunning Eagle Speedster, an all-aluminium bodied, hand-made creation, conservatively priced at £500,000. So, what are they like to drive? The first was a 1964 Mk1, 3.8 roadster, resplendent in deep-gloss, dark blue paintwork with a parchment leather interior, and fitted with big bore exhausts. Hard acceleration sounded much like Odin standing in the halls of Valhalla, calling across to Mimir, his uncle – in Iceland. It was fast, too. With the same power-to-weight ratio as a modern XKV8,

it dispatched queues of traffic with ease, and dealt with corners as if on rails. Brace explained that, in general terms, he doesn’t stray too far from the original spec, so driving aids like ABS and traction control are not fitted. This particular car, however, was retrofitted with a five-speed gearbox, air-conditioning, and a decent stereo and CD player. The other noticeable aspect of the car was the ride comfort. The all independent system, fitted with adjustable dampers, has torsion bars at the front and a sub-frame mounted wishbone system at the rear, is supple and beautifully damped, turning pave surfaces into slight irregularities, and blesses the car with brilliant handling and road-holding. The Speedster is in another league. The engine is an all-aluminium, 4.7 litre, twin-cam, straight six; 0.5 litres larger, lighter and more powerful than the standard XK 4.2 litre lump, which benefits steering, handling, roadholding and acceleration. The power-to-weight ratio has been improved to the ‘scary fast’ point: at 307 bhp/tonne, it is the same as the Ferrari California! The engine also produces 340lbs/ft of torque, which almost turns motoring into a top-gear-only (sixth) affair. It is achingly beautiful and superbly finished, with some interesting additions to the original bodywork design. It’s de-seamed, the wheel arches are more pronounced, and the rear end finished with the exhausts recessed into the bodywork. The other most important change is that the front and rear tracks are now much wider, giving the car a far better feel, and more assertive stance on the road. It is blindingly fast and extremely comfortable, with bespoke airconditioning and electric steering systems that make for cool and easy driving. This particular car was the second made. Any others made will be bespoke for each owner and made only to order. A point here: each car will use an original VIN from a donor chassis, thus retaining its original E-Type identity. For further information, please refer to The Directory on page 80.

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FINANCE

Venture Capital Trusts An investment in the future.

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nvestment is not what it once was. Increasingly, people are looking at different ways to invest their money, a trend undeniably triggered by tempestuous markets and complex taxation. Last edition, we looked at the gains to be made from timber and wine investments. This issue, however, we look at something with a little more risk, but potentially a lot of reward. A venture capital trust, or VCT, is an investment opportunity that is gathering a lot of momentum amongst investors. And it’s not hard to see why. The VCT scheme began in April 1995, designed to encourage people to invest indirectly in a number of small high-risk companies. Although not listed on recognised stock exchanges, investors spread the risk over a number of companies. Investment is always a risk. The difference here is that the advantages are many. Firstly, you get to support a young, promising company, which has all the chance of making a significant dent in the market, or better still, becoming the next big thing. Secondly, investment in small companies is an investment in the economy. Indeed, it’s almost a cliché to point out that small business is the backbone of the economy. But let’s not beat around the bush: the biggest perk of VCT investment comes directly from the taxman. Because VCTs are seen as a benefit to the country, taxpaying investors get 30 per cent of their investment back – which is nothing to be scoffed at. For instance, invest £20,000 into a VCT and you will receive £6,000 in income tax relief. Better still, there is no capital gains tax or income tax on VCT return. Although there is no restriction on how much you can invest, you can only claim tax relief on the first £200,000. Typically, the minimum investment is £5,000. Furthermore, the European Commission (EC) recently approved changes proposed by the UK Government to increase the size and flexibility of VCTs. The changes include doubling the size of companies eligible for funding through the scheme, from £7 million to £15 million; raising the amount of money that a VCT manager can invest in any one company, from £2 million to £5 million; and allowing firms with up to 250 staff to receive funding – a large step up from the previous limit of 50 employees. Speaking exclusively to ONF ORM, a Treasury spokesperson commented “The Government’s aim is to make the UK the best place in Europe to start, finance and grow a business, and a vital part of this is ensuring access to a wide range of sources of finance. Venture Capital Trusts and the Enterprise Investment Scheme have supported over £11.5bn of equity investment in UK businesses since their introduction in the 90s. By simplifying and improving them, the Government is maintaining a strong incentive to invest, increasing the competitiveness of the UK tax system, and demonstrating that Britain is open for business.” Further more, recessionary periods are an opportune time to invest in an early stage business. We asked Paul Latham, Managing Director at Octopus Investments, why he thinks now is a better time than any: “With bank finance remaining scarce, entrepreneurs and early stage companies are increasingly looking to venture capital teams to provide finance to fund the next stage of their business’ development.

There is also a thriving entrepreneurial ecosystem here in London, which is supporting the overall growth of the UK’s enterprise market. In addition to the current market opportunity, VCTs are increasingly becoming common place in retirement planning. There is a growing recognition among investors and financial advisers that VCTs can play a valuable and complementary role to more traditional methods of retirement planning, such as pensions.” Equally important for those looking to invest, however, is finding the right VCT and provider. “The VCT market has grown significantly since 1995,” says Latham, “and there are now many different types of VCTs available. Each VCT will have its own mandate. For example, some will be focused on delivering higher levels of growth than others, some will be generalist or sector specialists and some will provide long term growth while other VCTs might have a planned exit, providing a set date for returns and the VCT’s closure. Investors will need to ensure that the VCT they choose to invest in is undertaking a suitable mandate for their investment needs. There may also be opportunities for new investors to access established VCTs, via a top-up issue. This could be appealing to some investors, as some of these more established VCTs, which reopen for top-ups, will have a track record of paying regular tax-free dividends.”

“VCTs offer the chance for investors to support a new generation of UK businesses, as well as benefiting from the tax incentives that come with them” Essential, then, is that investors search for providers who aim to capitalise on the strength of their investment teams, in order to deliver sizeable returns by investing in high growth companies. But what is it that providers are looking for when choosing companies to add to their portfolios. “The type of companies that we invest in through our VCTs will vary according to each mandate,” explains Latham. “However, these mandates are all united by our quest to find exceptional companies to invest in on behalf of our investors.” Ian Williams, Managing Director at Cavendish, commented “VCTs are high risk investments aimed at investors who already have a balanced portfolio. Many are now managed for stable returns and investors should look for a manager with a good track record that fits with their requirements. In most cases, go for stability – you’re in the speculative end of the market, even with the safest VCTs.” Williams added that “VCTs suit high earners, as the tax advantages are still favourable.” And thus, we come full-circle, back to the fundamental attraction of VCTs. With smaller companies acting as the so-called lifeblood of the UK economy, VCTs ultimately offer the chance for investors to support a new generation of UK businesses, as well as benefiting from the tax incentives that come with them. So, if you’re looking for an investment in the future, VCTs may hold the answer – in more ways than you may think.

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F E S T I VA L : S N O W B O M B I N G

Tick Tick Boom! Peter Robinson visits the explosive Snowbombing festival in Austria

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f I think back and grit my teeth, I can remember my passiveaggressive teenage years. I was about 16 and the days of spending time with my mother during the evenings and attending social occasions were long dead. Having spent most summers ‘enduring’ festivals like Glastonbury and WOMAD and visiting various ‘ transient artistic’ friends of my mother’s around the country, I yearned, like any teenager, for a simple night out with my friends. The modernity of a Macdonald’s, perhaps, or food that wasn’t bought from the indigenous people of… wherever. At the time, I didn’t understand the unique upbringing I was being given by my matriarch. Later in life, however, I would realise that, having met Peter Gabriel backstage at WOMAD and danced to Tom Jones atop a rubbish truck at the Pyramid Stage, my tutelage had been under an experienced festivalgoer. Never satisfied to slum it with the riff-raff, mother would always ensure backstage passes and entry to the veritable OCD cleanliness of the VIP showers. I’m sure she spared a brief but fleeting thought for the masses rolling around like pork in mud, as she cast her pashmina over her shoulder and headed for a hot shower. Sadly, I’ve not been to Glastonbury whilst of drinking age – yet. This gives any memories of it a Dali-dreamlike quality that I doubt most Glasto revelers have. I’m sure most see it as the muddy quagmire of drug and alcohol fuelled reveling. So, when I was asked to fly to Austria earlier this year to the mythical, mystical event that is Snowbombing, I was hoping for the creature comforts to which I’m usually accustom. I wasn’t disappointed. Snowbombing started in 2000 and was originally run by a group of promoters from Manchester to promote an après club in the French resort of Risoul. Having only skied for a short period of time, I didn’t like my odds. If my own carefree approach to skiing and drinking wasn’t risky, I was sure to be cut to the ground by a fellow partygoer inebriated on the Harakiri. If you don’t know, the Harkiri is the steepest groomed

slope in Austria. It has a truly non-compos mentis incline of 78% and is 150 meters long. It was, however, closed when I arrived. That didn’t stop my support acts, Glenn Holmes and Jason Shankey, dipping under the security tape and heading down. When we weren’t on the slopes trying to cast away the headache of the night before, I spent the afternoons in the hotel sauna and outdoor hot-tub. Snowbombing isn’t a snowboarding festival and it certainly isn’t a bottom-of-the-barrel affair. If you book early, you can easily choose a four-star hotel or chalet and everything is included: flights, transfers, food, and club and event entry. They really have made it rather easy to plan and organise for a group of weekend warriors, or the party-hardened, weeklong roisterer. I didn’t know if I could manage a full week and not wanting to turn up for my interview with the legendary Norman Cook (Fatboy Slim) glassy-eyed and smelling of gin, I chose to party for four nights, not the full shebang. Cook played the street party this year, a procession through the small town, dressed in an array of costumes. On the Monday night, we saw Ben UFO play a smooth, mixed set, hanging roughly around vintage drums. Then, Lindstrom performed a live set which was a high point of the festival, as not only was it full of emotion and righteous arpeggios, it was also vividly punchy and driving. The following night, DJ Shadow played his see-if-you-get-the-chance Shadowsphere show – the last in Europe, he said. Mad turntablist visuals were projected onto the outside of the sphere, all while Shadow flexed his scratching muscle. Bombing does have a few extra-special gems, though. The Artic Disco, an igloo-cum-club, where the tables and the DJ Booth are made of ice – the sound is great, due to the acoustic absorption properties of snow. The final hurrah came on Friday night with Dizzee Rascal, the headline act, tearing up the forest fixture whilst fireworks lit up the venue like a Christmas tree. I only spent four days at this wondrous event but I left self-preservation at the airport. In the words of the late, great Bill Hick’s: ‘It’s an insane world, but I’m proud to be part of it.’

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Photo: Andrew Whitton

M U S I C : FAT B O Y S L I M

An interview by Peter Robinson.

FunkSoul

Bomber

It’s a tough gig, right, being the world’s most famous deejay. But since the mid-90s, when he pioneered the ‘big beat’ movement in the UK, Norman Cook has held the music world in his hands. He made his name as Fatboy Slim, with his first major hit, Rockafeller Skank, reaching number six in 1998. Since then, he has clocked up multiple top-ten hits, including Praise You, Right Here Right Now, and Gangsta Trippin’. His music videos have been equally well-received, most notably 2001’s Weapon of Choice, which starred Hollywood royalty Christopher Walken. But with great celebrity comes great publicity. Cook’s tempestuous marriage to TV presenter Zoe Ball became the focus of media scrutiny, with his private life suddenly outshining his career. It was about this time that Cook stepped back from the public spotlight, not producing another album under his Fatboy Slim moniker until 2010’s Here Lies Love. One thing this legendary deejay is renowned for, however, is his electric live gigs. We caught up with Norman at the Snowbombing festival in Austria to find out how a struggling deejay from Reigate became one of the world’s most celebrated music acts. Congratulations on your new little girl – what’s her name? Thank you very much, her name is Nelly. Just to clear it up, do you prefer Norman or Fatboy Slim? Well, my friends call me Norman, but Fatboy Slim – erm, I don’t know, whatever! Snowbombing – it has to be one of the most random places for a festival by far. On the way here, I was thinking if this is the weirdest place I have played. I played on the back of a tank driving around Glastonbury. I think this is on par with that.

You headlined Snowbombing back in 2010 and were supposed to headline in 2009. It’s old news now, but what’s it like ‘bombing sober’? Yeah, I was famously supposed to headline in 2009, but unfortunately checked myself into rehab, so I’m late to the game. I have been sober for a few years now. You lose one bit, but you gain another bit, so it works. My first Glastonbury without a drink was weird! It’s smooth sailing now, then, at the former party-pad in Brighton... when you’re not playing to an arena of course. I’m glad I had all those crazy years. We partied our tits off around the world and enjoyed every minute. But we are settled now. When you were growing up, did you ever imagine that you would be playing huge gigs in the mountains? No! When I started out deejaying, deejays never did things like this. You just played at your local disco and you never even travelled up to London, so the idea of travelling around the world and doing this when you’re a deejay is like – no! It’s the sort of thing you do as a rock star. Deejays don’t do things like this! We don’t ride up mountains in skidoos! What’s going on!? You’re playing a few little sets here-and-there this week, but you’re also here to play the street party. Yeah, that will be the big show – all bells and whistles! Moving onto your career – you’re already well-versed when it comes to producing and running gigs, given the Big Beach Boutique. How did that come about? The BBB started, bizarrely enough, because of Channel 4 and the cricket. Channel 4 had just got the rights to show test matches. They had the idea of doing a road show, where there was a big screen to

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Photo: Andrew Whitton

It seems to be exciting times for EDM. It sort of comes in waves. Ten years ago, there was a wave with me and the Chemical Brothers and Basement Jaxx and Prodigy. There was a sort of European invasion and then it receded a bit. But I think the Dutch and the Swedes have really kicked dance music up the arse. They’ve brought in different elements of R&B and things like that. The commercial end of it has exploded. Dubstep is really turning people on, getting them out of their houses and dancing, which is always a good thing. What is it about dubstep that has captivated people? I don’t know. It’s just fresh. Dubstep really reminds me of big beat, because it’s accessible. It’s got that rock element to it. Anything that gets people up from watching MTV at home and gets them out and raving is good. It’s got energy. Do you see comparisons to what people like Nicky Romero are doing today to what you did? I think they’ve taken the ball and run with it. I play with Skrillex a lot. He keeps coming up to me and saying ‘You know you’re the reason I do this’. It’s a really nice feeling, like you’re the old uncle that taught them the tricks. Photo: Danny North

show the matches in parks and places in England. They chose Brighton beach and had this enormous fifty-foot-high screen and a sound system. In the evening, after the cricket, they said ‘Why don’t we have a party? Who’s a deejay in Brighton that might want to run the party?’ So they just invited us along off the back of the cricket. By the Friday night, when we did the party, England had already lost the cricket match and no one was interested in it at all. Because it was Brighton beach, on my home turf, to my home crowd, which attracted 65,000 people, who all had a fantastic time, we did it again ourselves the second year. A quarter of a million people came, which was fantastic. If I die tomorrow, I would die happy knowing that I had done that. People called it NormStock. And if you think about the humble beginnings of a deejay, just eking it out, playing weddings just to turn money over, to do that and play to a quarter of a million people, to close personal friends in your home town, you don’t get a buzz like that more than once in your life. There are obvious benefits to producing your own gig. What selfish pleasures do you indulge in that you wouldn’t normally be able to? The greatest thing about curating and putting a show is that you can be a bit selfish. One of the selfish things is that you can just put deejays on. I’m not putting celebrities on. I’m putting the cream of England’s deejays – well, the world’s deejays – on. It’s purely a deejay thing – by deejays, for deejays. The next one is definitely going to be the party of the year in Brighton. Speaking of which, how would you describe your show? Well, I always describe my music as dirty but accessible. You try and do big things that people know, without being too cheesy. It’s a delicate balance between the really well-known and the thumping stuff. The light show is produced with the magic of Serato, which means the sound files that I play with the CDJ are triggering the video on LED, which is fantastic, as it means everything is in-sync no matter what speed I play the tunes at. When you start out playing in night-clubs, you think, how did we get here?

“If I died tomorrow, I would die happy knowing that I had done that”

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SAILING: KESTREL

Free as a bird ONF ORM finds out why the Kestrel 106 is making waves.

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he groundbreaking new Kestrel 106 sailing superyacht, from the renowned drawing board of Ron Holland, is turning heads everywhere she goes. She is the first of an entirely new class of sailing yacht, which combines the best aspects of a sailing boat, motor yacht and beach house, in a classically-beautiful hull form. She has already achieved 13.8 knots under sail, pretty impressive for a yacht carrying the accommodation spaces normally associated with yachts some fifteen to twenty feet longer. At her launch at Antibes Yacht Show in France this spring, she was acclaimed ‘Yacht of the Show’, and has since been featured and acclaimed in publications such as Nice Matin, Boat International and Yachting World. Rarely has a new yacht from an unknown company created such a stir. She attracted particular attention when the original lead dancers from the European tour of Riverdance put on a display of Irish dance on Kestrel’s aft ‘dance-floor’ accompanied by the bagpipes

of Frazer MacIntosh, who is normally seen piping the Scottish rugby team into Murrayfield. So, what is so different about this particular craft and why has she grabbed the attention of all who have visited her, or even had the pleasure of taking her for a sail? To understand this, we spoke with the creator and originator of the concept, Peter Cooke. Peter heads up Kestrel Superyachts Ltd, which is backed by twenty-four Northern Irish and Scottish men and women, this itself being a unique business model in what is usually seen as quite a staid industry. The ladies make up some 30% of the investor base, and played a large part in ensuring that the final design would welcome both sailor and non-sailor alike. Peter’s wife, Jenny, chose the interior fabrics to ensure that the feel was more beach-house than yacht. Cooke explains the philosophy behind the Kestrel: “We were trying to do something quite different in a market where so many boats are just shades of each other. We wanted to put both family and fun back

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into big-boat sailing. Sailing is so often exclusive, in the sense that it excludes those who are not sailing enthusiasts, whereas we wanted to be inclusive. Why would anyone buy a large yacht where all the family do not want to be? We wanted her to be a delightful place to spend leisure time whether under sail on some distant ocean, or just anchored in your favourite bay. From day one, Kestrel was to be a true lifestyle boat that would appeal to sailors and non-sailors alike, but where the sailing performance would never disappoint the enthusiast.” Peter explained that the key inclusive qualities which his syndicate wanted to embrace were vast, useful spaces both on deck and below; great stability, so as not to alarm non sailors; a really attractive and welcoming interior, flooded with natural light; and excellent, fast cruising capability. His team checked every design evolution against the old Jaguar strap-line of ‘Space, Pace and Grace’, and he is not alone in being convinced that they have achieved a fine balance of all three key attributes. Ron Holland took some time to commit to the project back in 2006, as he initially felt there was too much conflict to resolve in the required elements, but accepted the challenge after much thought, and is more than delighted with the outcome. Kestrel has the key elements of the successful, fast cruising yachts he is known for, in terms of sailing performance, but with much greater volume in and on the hull form. Holland states that “Yacht design is always a compromise, and in this case the conflicting requirements were quite challenging to resolve in one design. What we have produced is a careful balance of the all client’s requirements, and I believe we have together opened a new niche in the market for large sailing boats with this elegant vessel. I have been

sailing on her and was most impressed with both her performance and her responsiveness.” Normal sailing boats of this size have three sleeping cabins, but Kestrel has included four, all with their own bathrooms, by clever placement of the galley kitchen below the saloon and a fuller hull shape forward due to the traditional ‘clipper’ bow. This makes the yacht especially suitable for charter, as it can accommodate two families of five each, or four couples. The owner’s cabin is massive for a yacht of this size, but there are also two excellent twin-bedded cabins with an additional Pullman bunk in each, and a large forward guest cabin, as well as separate accommodation for up to four crew members. The bright and fresh deck saloon, with its panoramic views, offers the opportunity for up to ten people to eat inside in poor weather. The engine room is a real little ship space off the galley. Back on deck, Kestrel displays another notable innovation. By putting the guests before the sailing systems, the aft deck area is incredibly spacious and versatile. There is a large cushioned sunbathing area in the stern, a wasted area in most yachts, and, forward of this, two sliding seating pods with integral tables that can be aligned to allow intimate dining for eight to ten, to be reset as a cockpit with a passage down the centre line, or slid outboard on rails to form the aforementioned dance-floor. So, whether your desires are to sail around the world with family and friends, or just potter around the coastline, Kestrel really has it all. The first of the series is now for sale at £6.35 million and is also available for charter. For further information, please refer to The Directory on page 80

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T R AV E L : V I C T O R J E T S

To the Victor belongs the spoils Victor is a private jet company which is changing the way people fly privately. Started by Clive Jackson, the premise of Victor is simple: it’s a book-direct, pay-less model that allows charterers to also share their aircraft, should they wish, offsetting the cost through the sale of surplus seats. It’s a no-brainer.

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s with many industry-changing ideas, Clive’s inspiration was born from frustration, experiencing, first-hand, the inconvenience involved with flying commercially. “I had no idea about private aviation,” he says. “What triggered my interest was when I was sitting on the last scheduled BMI service to Palma where I have a property, realising the only existing alternative was budget airlines which can be horrendous in peak season, to the point where, if it’s busy and you get delayed, you think ‘I wish I hadn’t bothered going down there for the weekend, it’s just not worth it’.” Believe it or not, membership is free, with no upfront costs either. We wonder what membership currently looks like, expecting it to be in the low-hundreds. “Not far off 1700,” he replies. “Probably 1700 be the end of the day.” Victor’s partnerships already include top-end restaurants and hotels, clubs and retreats, and luxury property firms. But it’s Victor’s members that make the idea workable. Victor discovered that some 92 percent of private jet users were actually happy to travel with like-minded people. As well as sharing

“I don’t think the market should continue to levy extortionate commissions on top of jet charter” common interests, be they social or professional, the opportunity to offset the cost of chartering a jet by selling the spare seats is a big motivation. Not even the super-wealthy enjoy getting ripped-off by overly high prices. “I generally don’t think the market should continue to levy extortionate commissions on top of jet charter, particularly for the loyal client,” says Clive. “If you’re a loyal client and you don’t keep asking, you get screwed. The jet charter world is quite murky. Victor makes it transparent.”

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Below: Victor Jet founder Clive Jackson believes ‘the jet charter world is quite murky’.

Surely jet owners want seats filled. How does the market currently work? Clive says, “You’ve got brokers, then you’ve got operators, who don’t own the aircraft. They’re owned by wealthy people who say ‘look, you manage my aircraft, so when I am not using it, charter it out and deflate some of my management costs’. Management costs for a decent jet run up to £175,000 a year. That’s just to keep it parked. That’s the amount of dough you shell out just to say ‘I have a jet’. Hence management companies charter out jets, and hence there is a charter market for people who spot-buy. So, you’ve got brokers, who sit in between; you’ve got jet charter companies, who are all over the place and don’t have a direct offering.” It’s the growing number of partners and members that testify to Victor’s brilliance and innovation. And whether, like Clive, you’re fed up with traditional methods of aviation, or you’re a private jet owner looking for partnership, it’s definitely worth contacting Victor. ‘Revolution’ is a strong and overused word, but Victor is truly changing the private aviation market – one seat at a time. For further information, please refer to The Directory on page 80

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I N T E R V I E W: R I C H A R D E . G R A N T

This Charming Man Currently filming in L.A., Richard E. Grant took time out to meet with ONF ORM’s Emma Inglis.

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n a suite, in the iconic Chateau Marmont Hotel on Sunset Boulevard, Richard E. Grant is enjoying all of what Hollywood has to offer. “Gorgeous weather, room service and valet parking. The life of L.A.!” But not just L.A. Grant gets to do the life of London, Paris, New York and Las Vegas. His current project is a cracker and promises him an abundance of lavish hotel suites and flawless room service. “I am hosting a six-part documentary series for Sky Atlantic about famous hotels and the stories behind them, that will air this autumn, interviewing everyone from Donald Trump to designers, owners, chefs, guests, up, down and sideways.” Up, down and sideways – it seems a fitting description for the irrepressible Richard E. Grant. After all, he does appear to pop up everywhere, with everyone, and turn his hand to everything. Not so long ago he joined Tracy Emmin and Heston Blumenthal in the BA Great Britons Programme. “I was invited by British Airways to judge their Olympic short film competition, alongside Heston Blumenthal

discovering a new chef, and Tracey Emmin’s search for an artist to paint British Airways’ planes with a winning design. There were over 600 film script entries, short-listed to half a dozen by a team of judges, after which we interviewed the finalists to pitch their stories.” The winner was Prassana Puwanarajah, with a script called Boy, about a carpenter who maintains the track at the Velodrome whilst dealing with the loss of his son, a track cyclist. “Prassana’s script was unanimously chosen as the winner and then produced and directed by an amazingly accomplished team, starring Tim Spall in the lead role.” All this and jetting off to Melbourne and the Italian Riviera to star in Kath and Kimderella, a swansong film based on the phenomenally popular Australian comedy series Kath and Kim. “I play a marriage broker in the fictitious court of the King of Pappiloma, a Monaguesque principality in the heel of Italy, relentlessly pursued by Magda Szubanski, who mistakes my disdain for love and lust.” Yes, Richard E. Grant is busy, travelling here, there and everywhere; up, down and sideways. But then Grant has not really had a quiet day since Withnail and I, the cult film that made his name some twenty-five

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Richard E. Grant on location in LA and New York, filming his new series Hotel Secrets years ago. For those not in the know, Withnail and I is the tale of two struggling actors, Withnail played by Grant, and ‘I’ played by Paul McGann. Short of booze, fags and money, they decide to swap cold, damp London for a holiday cottage in the Lake District, owned by Withnail’s gay uncle Monty. The film was was written and directed by Bruce Robinson, based on experiences and housemates from his youth. (The ‘real’ Withnail, Vivian Mackerrell, a colorful eccentric, died of throat cancer aged 51, which Robinson once attributed to his consumption of lighter fluid, portrayed in an infamous scene from Withnail and I.) Even now, over two decades later, Grant recalls the part warmly. “Withnail was a gift of a role in every way. It led to almost every other job I’ve had over the past 25 years, and afforded me great friendships with the cast, especially Bruce Robinson, who makes me laugh harder than anyone else I know. Of all the parts I’ve played, the dialogue is indelible and I can still remember a great deal of it. All credit to Bruce.” Bigger credit to Grant, though. Sure, the dialogue sparkles, and some of Withnail’s lines have gone down in cult Eighties’ cinemaviewing history, alongside those of, say, Spinal Tap and The Blues Brothers, but there is more to the film than that. Grant’s Withnail is a triumph. Few roles have been so splendidly and convincingly inhabited by an actor. Grant is Withnail. He plays the tortured drunken artiste to perfection. All the more impressive considering that Grant doesn’t drink; his liver is unable to metabolise alcohol. Grant has been dropdead drunk only once in his life, and that was at the insistence of Bruce Robinson to prepare for the role of Withnail. Across the Atlantic, there was excitement after Withnail, and Grant got his first invitation from Hollywood to star alongside Julian Sands in

Warlock (a kind of medieval Terminator). Shortly after that, he teamed up with Robinson again to play a scruple-free ad exec in How to Get Ahead in Advertising. The film didn’t go down that well with critics – but Grant did. Suddenly, Richard E. Grant was seen as the perfect villain – or antihero – and the roles flooded in. There were parts in Steve Martin’s L.A. Story; Francis Ford Coppola’s Bram Stoker’s Dracula; Robert Altman’s The Player, Gosford Park and Prét a Porter; and Martin Scorsese’s The Age of Innocence. Then there was the notorious flop, Hudson Hawk, in which Grant starred alongside Bruce Willis, whom he later described in wholly unflattering terms. It was all creative grist for Grant’s mill. In 1996, he published his first book, With Nails: The Film Diaries, a warts-and-all account of the film industry and life amongst the stars of Hollywood. “After publishing a diary about the making of Robert Altman’s Prét a Porter in a Sunday newspaper,” recalls Grant, “I was approached by various publishers, asking if I had kept a diary during the making of other films, which is how With Nails came about, charting the story of a complete nobody landing a lead role in a film, which led to a career that landed me in Hollywood. I tried to be as honest as I could about the reality of making films, as opposed to the press version where things are always ‘bright and beautiful’.” There is little about L.A. that is bright and beautiful in Grant’s diaries. Hollywood comes across as a place full of egomaniacs, stuttering film shoots and mind-boggling inefficiency. Never more so than when Grant describes, in amusing detail, the making of Hudson Hawk. The movie industry fares no better in Grant’s second book, By Design, a fictional tale about two friends from Africa who end up on Sunset Boulevard, which he wrote a few years later. As with With Nails, the book leaves the reader with the distinct impression that there’s nowt so queer, shallow, or paranoid as Hollywood folk. As later affirmed by Grant in

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The Guardian, “Hollywood is on what they call a s**t tide, meaning a tide where stuff comes in and goes out very quickly. People come in, get a part in something, get in a magazine, then they go away and you never hear of them again. The sun shines, the level of paranoia is bottomless, and everybody you meet has an agenda. And that’s it. Show business, twenty-four hours a day. If you’re doing well, you’re a target. Nobody’s interested in you, except how you can be of use to them. And you can’t engage with anyone, you can only engage with their agenda.” Grant’s diary writing did not begin in Hollywood. He has kept a diary since his childhood. It was Grant’s mother that initiated his diarykeeping, but not in the way that one might think. Grant explains, “I’ve kept a diary since I was ten years old, having inadvertently witnessed my mother getting up to mischief with my father’s best friend on the front seat of a car, whilst I was supposedly asleep in the back.” Scrabbling to make sense of finding his mother in flagrante, in the family Mercedes, Grant put pen to paper. Not so long ago, he wrote in the Daily Mail, “I had no idea what to do other than to clamp my eyes tight shut and hope I wasn’t ‘found out’. No one to tell. No one to talk to. No one to share with. Like the statue of the three monkeys on the mantelpiece: ‘Hear no, see no, speak no evil’. This was the moment at which I began keeping a diary.” It should have been a blissful childhood. Grant was born Richard Esterhuysen in Mbabane, Swaziland, a tiny country bordering the eastern edge of South Africa. There were lush grasslands to explore, the huge granite boulder at Sibebe Rock to climb, lakes to bathe in, and the river rapids of the Umbeluzi to race down on an inflatable rubber ring. Grant recalls that “Living outdoors made for an utterly unrestricted boyhood, apart from snakes in the summer. I had a tree house and a pool and spent a great deal of time horsing around and making up things to do.” His father, Henrik, was Swazi’s Minister of Education, while his mother, Leonne, worked as a ballet teacher and a part-time secretary. Mbabane

was small. Everyone knew everyone else. Indeed, that, it seems, was part of the problem. Grant has been quoted as saying that, in Mbabane, no marriage stood a chance of surviving more than three weeks, because there was nothing to do except have affairs. Shortly after his mother’s affair, Grant’s parents divorced and his father plunged into a fury of alcoholism, once firing a gun at Grant for pouring away his whisky. Some ten years later, his father died from cancer. He was fifty one; Grant was twenty four and had just finished studying English and Drama at Cape Town University. The dying man

“Hollywood... the sun shines, the level of paranoia is bottomless, and everybody you meet has an agenda. And that’s it. Show business, twenty-four hours a day” gave Grant his watch, which he still wears today, permanently set on Swaziland time. Grant clearly adored his father. An interviewer once asked how he could forgive a man who tried to shoot him. Grant replied that it’s “Easy to forgive someone – if you loved them.” Grant’s childhood was the basis of his film Wah-Wah, which he wrote and directed in 2004. Set at the end of the 60s, as Swaziland is about to receive independence from Great Britain, the film observes the disintegration of the Compton family through the eyes of its young protagonist son, Ralph. A talented cast play Ralph’s family: Gabriel Byrne, Emily Watson, Julie Walters, Miranda Richardson and Nicholas Hoult. Filming Wah-Wah was a liberating experience for Grant. He says of the film, “Revisiting my past from the safety of middle age was

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truly cathartic and as painful as my parents’ divorce and my father’s alcoholism were to endure. The film is really a love letter to him and our life during the last gasp of the Empire.” Out of the film came another book, The Wah-Wah Diaries. It is a witty, chaotic account of movie-making, and includes a hilarious portrayal of French producer Marie-Castille Mention-Schaar, who comes across as one of the most obstreperous producers in filmmaking. The emotional trauma of Grant’s childhood might explain why family is so important to him today. He has been married to Joan Washington, a dialect and acting coach, since 1986, and speaks with awe about her capabilities. “She has an incredible ear for accents and, like Henry Higgins, can identify where people come from, and has worked with almost every actor you can think of. She understands actors from the inside out.” (Washington is currently coaching on the Ralph Fiennes film about Dickens called The Invisible Woman.) In his wife, Grant believes that he has found the perfect partner. “Born in Aberdeen, her Scottish east-coast work ethic is so down-to-earth that it’s proved to be the perfect marital antidote to the yo-yoing vagaries of my life as an actor. We began talking to each other in 1983 and our conversation has not stopped since then. I owe her absolutely everything.” They have one daughter together, Olivia, of whom Grant is patently proud.

“She has just completed UEA’s Creative Writing and American Studies degree and wants to go into film production and screen writing, which she is passionate about.” There was another child, Tiffany, born prematurely, during the first few weeks of filming Withnail, who tragically died shortly after her birth. In Now Magazine in 1999, Grant spoke movingly about losing his child. “Not a day goes by without me thinking about her… We still talk about Tiffany… not in a macabre, candle-burning kind of way. But we still honour the day she was born and died. When something like that happens, it binds you to the person you’ve shared it with.” Grant is also stepfather to Washington’s son, Tom, from her first marriage. When not ‘yo-yoing’ around the world filming, Grant lives with Washington in Richmond, South London. When at home, there is the pleasure of daily jogs in Richmond Park and walks along the tow path from Richmond to Kew. Apart from a few short spells abroad, London has been Grant’s home since he left Swaziland in 1982, and still remains his favourite city. “It was always my dream to live and work in London and, like Dick Whittington, I found my pot of gold when I emigrated three decades ago. Of all the cities I have worked and lived in around the world, nothing beats London. I have the patriotic zeal for all things British that possibly only an outsider can feel, and I have never ceased to admire how tolerant and accommodating people are of every idea and ethnicity.” But the pull of Africa, of Swaziland, is still strong and, like a homing pigeon, Grant goes back at least once a year. Britain was in the grip of a war with the Falklands when twentyfive-year-old Grant first arrived here back in the Eighties. Grant recalls ships leaving Portsmouth for the Falkland Islands on the day of his arrival. The whole country was gripped by an extraordinary, patriotic fervour, and Thatcher’s popularity was at an all-time high. It would be a period of history that Grant would revisit some thirty years later when cast as Thatcher’s political nemesis, Michael Heseltine, in the recent biographical film based on Thatcher’s life, The Iron Lady. Grant researched the role by watching clips of Heseltine on YouTube, reading his autobiography and speaking to those who knew him. (Lord Heseltine had little to say of Grant’s portrayal of him, apart from criticising Grant’s hair, which was dyed for the role.) Meryl Streep played Thatcher and deservedly won an Oscar for her flawless performance. For Grant, acting alongside Streep was a dream come true. “Although my role was little more than a cameo, the opportunity to work with her is something I never dared dream would happen. She is the best of the best of the best, and her roster of roles and awards is unequalled and unparalleled in screen history. If that sounds gushing, it still doesn’t begin to convey how inspiring it was to watch her work and spend time in her company – forty carat gold.” In the star-struck Grant, one senses there still exists something of the wide-eyed boy from Mbabane, Swaziland, who still can’t quite get over life’s good fortune, let alone take on board his success. Richard E. Grant is forty carat gold, too. But charmingly, he doesn’t seem to know it.

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P R O P E R T Y: U S A

California dreamin’

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his vast estate was commissioned by the San Francisco capitalist Herbert Edward Law, after he acquired the land in 1911. George Schastey was the designer set to task in the early 1920s. The villa was created as a tribute to its Florentine counterparts, requiring the involvement of over 100 craftsmen to complete. The grounds are punctuated by rows of redwoods, a teeming lawn, diligently-carved statues, and a vast arrival court. The building’s giant sliding doors lead to its majestic foyer, with black and white Carrara marble flooring. In keeping with its homage to European design, the property features arched doorways, grand columns, faithful fixtures, and renaissance flair. A total of thirty rooms include seven bedrooms,

eight bathrooms, two powder rooms, a living room-cum-concert hall, a library, a sitting room, and a reading room. A wine production facility is incorporated into the grounds, and terraced vegetable gardens, organic beehives, natural spring wells, and botanicals contribute to a healthy and earth-friendly lifestyle. The villa is set against the backdrop of Portola Valley, a town in San Mateo County, California, which was named after the explorer Gaspar de Portolà, and boasts a diminutive population of just 4,500 people. It’s an opportunity that combines historicism and modernity in one location – a rarity in the region, but a must for those looking to invest there. For further information, please refer to The Directory on page 80

Villa Lauriston, Portola Valley, California, United States Price: $15,950,000

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P R O P E R T Y: F R A N C E

Heard it through the grapevine

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his issue, we present a production-based investment opportunity: the beautiful Château de Seguin, based in the wine-making capital of the world, Bordeaux. This picturesque vineyard estate is located on 172 hectares of land, 93 of which are dedicated to vines, which include Merlot, Cabernet, Sauvignon and Cabernet Franc. The property’s focal point is its bijou-style chateau, built in 1780, complete with salient turrets and vast cellars for storing wine, alongside seven bedrooms, an apartment, and a number of other buildings that include a quaint wine-tasting museum. Teeming-green gardens and a swimming pool complete the rural ambience of this unique French countryside retreat. Quite advantageously, for those wanting to capitalise on its wine producing facilities, Château de Seguin also has its own marketing team and has developed a powerful brand with outstanding prices, in comparison to others in the region. Château de Seguin is the ideal property for those attracted to the vineyard lifestyle and who are serious about winemaking on a significant scale; the beauty of a home and a small business – all in one idyllic location. For further information, please refer to The Directory on page 80

Château de Seguin, Bordeaux, France Price: €11,235,000

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FINANCE

It’s all Greek to me It has almost seemed like a tale of two halves so far this year, with stock markets climbing steadily for most of the first quarter, before becoming jittery and falling through most of the second quarter. Nonetheless, there has been a common theme of politics and economic growth at the heart of market movements. David Chapman, Director, UK Retail Sales, BlackRock, explains more.

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he market strength that closed last year continued into early 2012, as stock markets climbed upwards and corporate bond spreads (the difference in their yield compared to benchmark government bonds) shrunk, showing a continued return of risk appetite. For the month of January, the S&P 500 enjoyed its best start to the year since 1987. Emerging market shares were not left behind, with many indices posting strong gains. This was in part due to renewed optimism about the global economy, with stronger than expected economic data from the US and China in particular. In general, risk assets, such as company shares, climbed until the middle-end of March, at which point the rally began to run out of steam. Many companies, both in the US and Europe, reported better than expected earnings, but this was not enough to buoy the wider market. Indeed, it served as a useful reminder of the real driver

behind the market upswing. Central banks worldwide had stepped in throughout last year, but particularly towards the end of 2011, to prop up markets. Much of this was through supporting the European banking system. For example, six central banks lowered the dollar funding cost for European banks, enabling them to borrow money, and so fund themselves, more easily. In December the European Central Bank (ECB) stepped up to the plate with a series of Long Term Refinancing Operations (LTROs), which really gave the struggling banks room to breathe. This support gave investors confidence that there would not be a catastrophic collapse of the European banking sector and that it was likely European policy makers and the central bank would stem contagion to other countries in the region. Elsewhere, the US Federal Reserve, UK Bank of England and even Bank of Japan have supported risk assets through their efforts to stimulate economic growth. However, as the first quarter came to an end, it became increasingly apparent that central banks were reluctant to provide any further ‘ex-

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traordinary support’ for the time being. Combined with intensifying concerns about the eurozone and some signs that economic growth was dwindling in many regions, this took the wind out the stock market rally and indices worldwide generally trended downward since as risk appetite has evaporated. European politics has once again dominated both newsstands and markets alike with investors on the alert for any political developments which threaten the stability of the eurozone. In April and May, investors scrutinised the French and Greek elections. François Hollande, who went on to triumph over the incumbent Nicholas Sarkozy in France, campaigned for the need to introduce measures to stimulate growth in the region. On the surface, this seemed to fly in the face of the austerity measures, which Germany in particular is fighting to have implemented throughout the region. In early May, polling stations throughout Greece told of a country sick of austerity measures. The mainstream parties lost their hold as anti-austerity, populist parties secured a high number of votes. However, no parties were able to form a viable coalition so the country returned to the polls in June for another election, which was billed by European policy makers and the media alike as a referendum on the country staying in the euro. This aggravated concerns about the stability of the eurozone and markets were volatile. Ultimately, pro-bailout party, New Democracy won the most seats, which provided comfort to investors.

“It is easy to fixate on the European sovereign debt crisis. However, the global growth background has also weakened” With Europe still the focus, all eyes turned to the EU Summit at the end of June as investors looked for signs that policymakers would act to tackle some of the well documented problems in the region. There were some important steps forward at the Summit, in particular tackling the funding problems faced by European banks. This included the intention to create a partial banking union, with the European Central Bank (ECB) as the regulator. Also, politicians agreed some policies to promote growth in the region. Investors had low expectations prior to the Summit and as a result were pleasantly surprised. This played out in markets as many risk assets, such as shares, rose at the end of June. However, despite the progress made at the Summit, structural problems remain in the eurozone which still need to be tackled. These were seen again more recently as Greece re-entered the spotlight with scrutiny on its ability to meet the terms of its bailout package and we

saw the first appeal from a Spanish province, Valencia, for emerging assistance from central funds. It is easy to fixate on the European sovereign debt crisis – and it has clearly played its part in the recent drop in risk appetite – however, the global growth background has also weakened. The global economy, which accelerated towards the end of last year and early this year, has slowed again more recently. Changes in global growth momentum have been a driving force behind risk-on/risk-off periods in markets in the past few years – and this time has been no exception. Inevitably, Europe has had its fair share of bad economic news, but many of the larger emerging economies, such as Brazil and China have also showed weakening trends. This makes the position of the US economy all the more important. The tone of recent economic data has remained patchy, but nonetheless the US economy is holding up reasonably well with a growth rate of around 2%. This is clearly not a boom, but our view is that this sort of growth rate (or a slightly more rapid one) is sustainable in the second half of the year and if the US does continue to grow at this rate, it is likely to limit the extent to which the rest of the world is going to deteriorate. We also believe the slowdowns in the larger emerging economies will stabilise in the second half of the year – and we will possibly even see signs of reacceleration. The second half of 2012 looks likely to be dominated by policy. In Europe, policy makers are tackling the structural problems underlying banks and sovereign debt; the US is preparing for elections and the need to address tax increases and spending cuts which could hurt growth; and many emerging markets are already moving to policies to help promote growth. Overall, we expect positive but moderate global growth, combined with declining inflation. However, it will not be a unified picture, with some regions growing faster than others. We also believe that risk assets, such as company shares, will make progress in the second half of 2012, but it will be a much bumpier ride than earlier in the year and we expect volatility to remain high, especially surrounding developments in Europe. For further information, please refer to The Directory on page 80 Unless otherwise stated, all data is sourced BlackRock, DataStream, July 2012. Research in this document has been produced and may been acted on by BlackRock for its own purposes. The views expressed herein are as of 24.07.2012 and do not constitute investment or any other advice; the views are subject to change and do not necessarily reflect the views of BlackRock as a whole or any part thereof. All financial investments involve an element of risk. Therefore, the value of your investment and the income from it will vary and your initial investment amount cannot be guaranteed. Past performance is not a guide to future performance and should not be the sole factor of consideration when selecti¬ng a product. Issued by BlackRock Investment Management (UK) Limited (authorised and regulated by the Financial Services Authority). Registered office: 12 Throgmorton Street London EC2N 2DL. Registered in England No. 2020394. Tel: 020 7743 3000. For your protection, telephone calls are usually recorded. BlackRock is a trading name of BlackRock Investment Management (UK) Limited.

Image: vicspacewalker/Shutterstock.com

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S PA : S C A R L E T H O T E L

SCARLET FEVER I can’t say that I often opt for UK breaks. The prospect of packing myself onto a train or into a car for a weekend run to the sun consumes me with visceral dread.

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nd why bother, especially as we’re only a short hop from Paris, Milan, Verbier and Barcelona. Seeing as we’re in the throes of an Indian summer, our editor, Laith, decided that I was to be packed off to Mawgan Porth in Cornwall. Great. I could barely even pronounce it. I wasn’t bickering, of course. ‘Would you like to visit the Scarlet Hotel and Spa on the north Cornwall coast this weekend?’ I think I could do that, Ed, if given the right expense account. And so, on a sweltering Friday afternoon, I hopped in the car with a partner and headed for the Cornish coast, hoping they wouldn’t achieve independence before we got there. As luck would have it, they hadn’t. After a fairly easy drive down, we were welcomed into the arms of Cornwall with the obligatory ‘first sea view’. I have to be honest, after checking-in above the infinity pool, we headed to the sun deck to bathe in the rays with the other weekend warriors looking to escape and recharge the batteries a little. I’m told that the intention of Debbie Wakefield, Emma Stratton and Rebecca Whittington – the three sisters who developed this homage to eco-tricity – was to be ‘luxurious without costing the planet’. As Emma puts it, “We want it to be somewhere that you can come with your partner, or your husband, away from the children if you have them, and remember why it is you like them.” “Today, we’re all encouraged to consume, consume, consume,” observes Emma. “But what really stays with you isn’t what you’ve bought, but the memories of things you’ve done. Holidays can be so passive: you’re fed, you’re massaged, you’re brought yet another cocktail. Our next step is to provide that extra element, so that your lasting souvenirs are the memories of a holiday when you did something really different.” It’s clear that a lot of time and energy has gone into the Scarlet. And the girls are intent that it will all be saved and then reused to power the place.

Having watched the truly breathtaking Cornish sun set over the water, we decided to take a look around. From outside, the hotel looks like a Malibu mansion: perched precariously on the cliff top, it is a stark contrast to the Victorian-era retreats that dominate coastal towns. You could be fooled into assuming that it’s the getaway of some famous architect. The minute you head inside, you’re faced with vast collections of evocative artwork, sculpture and places to sit and relax in true comfort. And no reception desk haunts the lobby. Yes, the Scarlet knows it’s beautiful and soulful and doesn’t need the somewhat vapid, hulking oak or mahogany alter that most semi-elitist establishments feel the need to erect. Rather, a polite sign asks you to take a seat and wait – they know you’re there. It’s not odd box, though; it’s discreet and makes the time that you spend with the staff at the Scarlet truly one-on-one. We took some time to stroll around: the hotel has an indoor pool, heated using solar panel energy, and an outdoor swimming area filled with captured rainwater and filtered by reeds and other sieving plants that stand in for chlorine. Log fires warm the giant red teacup-shaped seaweed hot tubs overlooking the sea. The hotel also harvests its gray

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water, which is ‘eco’ for recycling the water that flows from showers and bathtubs and using it to flush the toilets. I was introduced to the concept of intelligent luxury last year in Oman, at the Six Senses retreat in Zighy Bay. The foundation principals are to take people back to basics, whilst working in synergy with nature; the feeling of sand between your toes, watching a beautiful sunset, taking a long bath, inside or out. The Scarlet Hotel does intelligent eco-luxury very well, indeed. Having arrived late, we decided to have a small nibble and retire to the pool room for a few frames; a good way to spend an evening, with a few bottles of Cornish cider, before retiring to our slumber. The following morning we joined Mara, the resident instructor, for some morning yoga on the beach. Having been a firm believer in the intrinsic benefits of yoga for many years, I was more than happy to rise early. The Scarlet offers complimentary morning courses, ranging from yoga to Pilates and meditation. Having had a good stretch on the beach, we decided to brave the outside, reed-filtered pool. I can only liken it to swimming in a bracing Scottish glen. Or bathing in Evian.

Though I already felt like my batteries had been plugged into the charger, I had booked myself in for a hot poultice massage, followed by a Mukabayanga facial, and so made my way to the relaxation area. Frank Lloyd Wright would have approved the room’s architecture and design, I assure you. No sooner had we clambered into the swinging relaxation pods that our therapists had arrived, and we were whisked off to what appeared to be a Bedouin-style enclave of white muslin and candles: calm embodied. As Bonnie worked out the three large glasses of lactic acid from my taught and languid muscles, I zoned out to the sounds of classic orchestral pieces, before succumbing to periods of lucid slumber. Post-massage, I was taken to a relaxation room brimming with giant swinging pods filled with other calm and lucid patrons. I climbed into my pod and was later joined by my partner, who had been equally zoned-out by Juliet. As we lay, curled up in what can only be described as foetal bliss, we both drifted off and awoke an hour later – as calm as Hindu cows. Having been sufficiently, muscularly manipulated, we changed for dinner and found ourselves in the restaurant, overlooking the tepid pools and the beautiful Cornish coast. Lobster ravioli, mackerel, potato and herb gnocchi, turbot and pork belly, followed by pineapple tarte tatin with whiskey and honey parfait was the order of the day. I got the impression we were re-toxing, to a certain extent. I’m sure if we had opted for a nutritionalist, we would have been eating wheat grass with fatless, skinless, tasteless blanched chicken. However, we didn’t, and were treated instead to some truly fantastic fare by the head chef, Tom Hunter. Breakfast began with a smoothie option of fresh fruit. After sufficiently feeding my body its five-a-day, I opted for the poached egg atop a haddock fishcake-cum-hash brown, beautifully finished with a dash of hollandaise. A dollop if you ask nicely. It’s hard to sum up the experience at the Scarlet, as it’s one of a kind. I know that I arrived taut and with a head full of to-do lists and worry. But I left feeling tranquil, with a cool, calm and collected head. I have spent weeks in the Seychelles that haven’t achieved what the Scarlet did in three days. So, I leave you to ponder this Chinese proverb, whilst urging you to take some down time at the Scarlet: ‘Tension is who you think you should be. Relaxation is who you are’. For further information, please refer to The Directory on page 80

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STYLE

The Advisory Sartorial style with David Minns.

Theatre, darling! The old faithful King William House is the only wharf building on Queen Square. As such, it is rather unique. Upon my arrival at King William House, back in 2010, I was greeted by a noble gentleman by the name of Simon Norris. Simon is the director of Nomensa – a web developer for such upstanding organisations as Unicef. Not only was he the first neighbour whose acquaintance I made, but he was also my first customer on the Square. Being a chap of refinement, Simon immediately saw the benefit in the services offered by A Suit That Fits – though few of my customers can claim to have their tailor quite literally just outside their front door! And so, with one of my suits, a sports jacket, and a plethora of my shirts now under his belt (metaphorically, of course – I wouldn’t allow Simon to have belt loops on his suit trousers,

coercing him instead, like the majority of my customers, to have waist adjusters, which are far more elegant), I found Mr. Norris at my door, brandishing an overcoat, which I can only describe as bearing an uncanny resemblance to the one sported by our cover star, Richard E. Grant, as Withnail. And whilst I am perfectly satisfied with the cut, jib and design details that A Suit That Fits offers, I find it heart-warming when a customer brings me an old faithful to replicate. Perhaps not surprisingly – given the intimate nature of the vestiture – trousers are probably the most requested garment to reproduce, closely followed by jackets. But rarely am I asked to duplicate an overcoat. How exciting it is to be, though! But what is it that makes a garment an ‘old faithful’? Is it the cut: the proportions, length,

width, the jib? The way it fits one’s frame? What it evokes in its appearance, such as the colour, design, texture and weight of cloth? Or, as is certainly the case for me, if not the overcoat’s owner, that it is a little dishevelled, threadbare and moth-eaten? Whilst it is likely that Withnail’s overcoat was a charity shop bargain (though probably more expensive than the toxic elixirs he was prone to quaffing when times got hard), I’m sure he knew only too well the theatrical impact that it had, given its propensity – nay, propensus – to drape cape-like, both shrouding and enhancing the wearer’s frame, and affording them an air of grace and menace.

“So, in a word, what we are trying to create – or in this instance, recreate – is theatre” So, in a word, what we are trying to create – or in this instance, recreate – is theatre; to create a garment that we feel transforms and transports us; that makes us feel like someone else, perhaps our sartorial hero, or perhaps more regal, or, in the instance of a cape, perhaps even superhuman. I have long since believed that I have found my vocation in tailoring, because of my life-long love of dressing up (fear not Saffron Darby, your dresses are safe), and my propensity to want to help others. Being Bristol’s local tailor affords me the opportunity to do both. And as I make my way across Queen Square to King William House, clothed in a three-piece Prince of Wales check suit, fob watch in pocket and Fox umbrella in hand, I am anywhere but 2012. For further information, please refer to The Directory on page 80

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Q U I N T E S S E N T I A L LY V I L L A S

If you are looking for the perfect property, please contact our travel specialists on 0845 269 6673 or email info@QuintessentiallyVillas.com QV_Ad.indd 48

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The latest word in luxury and exclusivity, Quintessentially Villas offer a portfolio of the most prestigious properties across the globe. Enhanced by "access all areas" privileges, we ensure every holiday is a trip of a lifetime.

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beach

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o you remember that scene in High Society? You know the one: Grace Kelly is kneeling poolside and pushes the toy boat across the glistening water. Remember her swimsuit? Yes, that swimsuit: white halterneck, finishing with a tiny, ruffled skirt. Has anyone ever looked so elegant in a swimsuit? Swim and beach wear tends to move in more obvious and less haphazard cycles than other summer trends. Frankly, there is only so much a designer can do without compromising the fine balance between functionality and sex appeal. Of course, that’s not to say that swim and beach wear isn’t influenced by other trends – items as unchanging as bikinis are still influenced by styles as diverse as cutaway clothing, one-shoulder pieces, fetish fashion, and rock and roll. But whether you’re shopping on the hot streets of Milan, or soaking up the sun on a Monegasque beach, everyone wants to dress as elegantly and sexily as possible. It is summer after all. And if you’ve got it, flaunt it.

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This page: Swimsuit by Cole of California; sunglasses by Fendi. Opposite: Buttercup Long by Kate Fearnley Boutique is a pretty, 50s-inspired dress featuring a soft tulle undershirt and cute bow detail. The stunning keyhole cut up the back is an unexpected but splendid piece of detail.

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The Laura by Kate Fearnley Boutique is a fitted pencil dress overlaid with heavy lace and features an open back with bow detailing; The Darcey by Kate Fearnley Boutique is a silk multi-checked material with train and tulle underskirt.

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Both pages: swimsuit by ASOS; shoes by Topshop.

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LEADERSHIP

Cruise

control... Overcoming the odds of leadership by Ellis Axton.

I used to get anxious. Anxiety is a funny thing. Mine wasn’t as debilitating as OCD, but not as innocuous as worry or dread either. It was somewhere in the middle, the effects of which were full-on, physical panic attacks. I would hyperventilate and struggle for breath. My chest would sink. I was convinced I was going to die, that my heart was about to stop. It was bad, terrifying at times, but I could still function and appear to lead an unhindered life. People can usually pinpoint the source of their anxiety – I couldn’t, which was perhaps the most frustrating thing about it. Nothing in my life seemed bad enough to justify this affliction: no family to support, no unmanageable debt, no past demons, no unresolved conflicts. Where was it coming from? Looming economic collapse? The threat of war and terrorism, perhaps? Surely not. With no idea of its root, I just had to cope, forgetting the times when it didn’t affect my life. People come to accept afflictions as normality.

You move on, learn to deal with it, stop feeling sorry for yourself. But, no matter how much I accepted it, the anxiety was always there, dwelling in the psyche, waiting to trigger the next psychosomatic episode. A friend asked me, “What about work?” I’ve never really considered work as stressful, or let it affect me in negative ways. I’ve always enjoyed it – thrived on it. Work has been a constant positive – so much, in fact, that I’ve been promoted twice in as many years. Promotion comes at a price, however. There’s more money, of course, but also an increased workload and more responsibilities, including a fairly large team to oversee. I was successful, yes, but success had always come with being well-managed. The sudden increase of employees under my remit, however, had risen to triple figures. I had been thrust into management. Was this subconsciously causing my anxiety? If it was, it certainly wasn’t obvious. Attacks never oc-

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Queen Mary 2 leaving New York

curred in the workplace. I’m far too busy to be concerned with delirious notions of heart failure at work. My attacks would hit when alone, when trying to relax. Should it be so hard to kick back and enjoy complete thoughtlessness? Apparently so. My friend was certain that professional pressures, apparent or not, were the source of my anxiety, and recommended that I contact a man called William Montgomery. William, I was told, specialised in leadership. If my anxiety was work-related, he’s the one who could sort it out. I’m always sceptical of people who claim to solve the seemingly unsolvable. William’s credentials are, indeed, impeccable – a graduate of Harvard (PhD in Psychology, no less), and former GCHQ code-breaker and navigator of HMS Ark Royal – but it still doesn’t mean he’ll be able to provide some miracle cure. I was dubious, but decided to attend one of William’s public speaking events, to get a feel for his approach. I went with a colleague to Merchant Taylor’s Hall in London to hear William discuss motivational leadership. The talk was impressive and taught me something that gave instant comfort: many leaders suffer from anxiety. Apparently it’s a natural by-product of the role, symptomatic of the constant balancing-act we all have to deal with: keeping on top of work, making tough decision, sustaining good relations, and embodying brand ethics. Also interesting is William’s claim that virtually every aspect of life is entwined with leadership, whether it’s achieving personal goals, or helping others attain theirs. William is a gifted speaker, someone who delivers immediate impact and oratory guile; a charming balance of passion and captivation. It’s no wonder the room is full. The talk left me thinking. I thought and thought, with William’s information jogging laps of my neurotic brain. I decided to call him to

discuss my anxiety issues. Something, somewhere (instinct, perhaps) was telling me he could help. My timing couldn’t have been better. William was about to embark on his biannual leadership cruise, which, among other things, offers one-to-one counselling on personal leadership issues. The goal of the voyage is simple: everyone emerges a better, more confident leader. William said the answers to all my problems were innate; I just had to be shown the doors. Leaving Southampton on December 12, arriving in New York on December 19, this was a well-timed cruise – a perfect pre-Christmas getaway for my fiancée and I. You can’t really argue with £2,500 for a cruise, food, one-to-one mentoring, then flights back from New York – and that was for both of us. By this point, the anxiety was so frustrating that I would have paid anything for a chance to feel better. This way, we both got a holiday too. It was a no-brainer. (It’s worth noting that the government has created a new ‘Leadership and Management Advisory Service’ (LMAS), in order to help employers fund development opportunities for their senior leaders and management staff. The scheme provides a grant of £1000, which means the cruise actually cost just £1,500. Bingo.) Before departing, William asked me to complete a Personal Profile Assessment (PPA). This, he said, would give him a chance to understand my inner-workings before we even met – to save time and make the most of our sessions together. A PPA is worth doing, if only to see yourself on paper. Providing you’re honest, it’s scarily accurate. My leadership flaws were instantly recognisable, as were my qualities. It seems my lack of assertiveness – something I am perfectly comfortable admitting – can frustrate others around me. Not an ideal attribute for a leader. It got me thinking about the personality traits that most affected me as a boss.

“Many leaders suffer from anxiety. Apparently it’s a natural by-product of the role, symptomatic of the constant balancing-act we all have to deal with” My lack of assertiveness led to yet another deficit in my leadership canon: bringing the best out in my team. Having been managed quite rigorously for many years, I understand that good employees like to be guided, inspired and praised. Being quite laidback, this is something I had to master. The PPA pointed out an interesting fact: that I ‘perceive no necessity to modify [my] characteristics in the work situation’. Wow – bang-on. Me at work is me at home or with friends. My role never changes. Not adopting the psychology of a leader implies a distinct lack of control. This immediately questions people’s faith in my ability as a leader. Why had I never thought about this? I start to panic... It was a month-long wait before the cruise, but it couldn’t have arrived more quickly. I had already attempted to ‘up my game’ at work, by monitoring and employing the attributes of other leaders around me, realising that being more assertive didn’t have to compromise my friendliness or likeability. As I was about to learn, in the workplace, respect always trumps geniality. Queen Mary 2 is a wholly impressive ship, a flagship luxury cruise liner, and a far cry from the joyless town halls that usually provide the backdrop for so-called business coaching. After stowing the luggage

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in our stateroom, we made our way to meet William and the other delegates for a ‘champagne sail-away’. There were twenty-four of us in total, eighteen of which taking the course, the other six just enjoying the cruise. One chap mentioned how Simon Woodroffe, the eccentric founder of Yo! Sushi, had been a guest speaker on a previous trip. Another person added that Ian Ayre, the managing director of Liverpool Football Club, had done the same, as well as Admiral Sir George Zambellas. A wave of relief washed over me and I sighed with satisfaction: I was in good company. The night was rounded off with a first-class dinner (rack of lamb, my favourite) and cocktails. Tomorrow, I thought, would be the start of the rest of my life. Before sleeping, I realised I’d gone an entire day without breaking into a panic. No threatening thoughts, no spasms, not even a twinge. Right now, I was alive. And for the first time in about a year, I wasn’t going to die.

William Montgomery with his daughter, Ellen Not much beats waking up in the middle of the ocean: azure waters, the salty breeze, undulating isolation. By 9am, we were at work, the first of five group sessions with William, each lasting for four hours, with time for personal mentoring in the afternoon. Each group session focused on two of William’s ‘Ten Actions of Effective Leaders’. This isn’t some trite top-ten list plucked from the ether; these ten actions were carefully crafted during William’s time at Harvard, and provided the basis for his final doctorate. The first day, we looked at ‘Learning Leadership’ and ‘Inspiring Motivation’. These areas were both crucial to my betterment, so I was pleased to be diving straight in: drink deep or taste not, the leadership spring. ‘Learning Leadership’ showed us how to become self-aware, reflecting on our strengths and weaknesses, and analysing behavioural patterns, values and ethics. ‘Inspiring Motivation’, conversely,

explained how to motivate others to develop themselves, promoting initiative and self-responsibility. This isn’t light learning, nor should it be, and the content is vastly different from that offered by the many business mentoring hacks out there. Business coaching has become an industry saturated with failed entrepreneurs and egomaniacs. I should know – I used to sell business events. William, however, maintains a relatively low-profile, dealing directly with actual people and specific organisations, rather than attempting the impossible feat of educating en masse. His advice is tailored, tried and tested, not trite and cliché, as with so many vague-as-astrology, twoa-penny pundits out there. Indeed, William’s work for the UK Cabinet Office, as the principal advisor for David Cameron’s initiative to measure the UK’s happiness, crosses over to his curriculum. His unique approach has been lauded by such political and entrepreneurial heavyweights as Michael Portillo and Steve Jobs, respectively. But, no matter how insightful and mastered William’s teachings may be, were they having any effect? In a word: yes. The group sessions provided a foundation for the one-to-one mentoring that followed, in which William’s background in psychology finally came into play, deconstructing my behavioural habits and professional neurology; analysing the decisions I make and the reasons behind them. It was me at my most bare, and it was oddly liberating. This thorough exploration of self concept and reflection, all within the context of leadership, is novel and refreshing, borrowing (consciously or not) from psychologists such as Cooley, Rogers and Geier. And, indeed, William was initially correct: good leadership, and its inherent attributes, can not only be appropriated professionally, but personally and socially too. Leadership is all around us, day-to-day, in every action, decision and conversation. And it’s only when you step outside yourself and make an objective analysis that change can really begin. The answers were there; the only things missing were actualisation and self-belief. The things I learned, just from the first day, now seemed so simple: to distinguish a professional persona and attitude, one that commands respect and the confidence of others; to be able to shape the future, both personally and professionally; to engage talent, making the most of employees, inspiring them to do their best; and lastly, to invest in myself, understanding that I will never be a perfect leader – no-one can – but I can find ways to continually build my skills and improve. The subject areas for the next four days included enabling communication, managing change, understanding emotions, making time, setting goals, encouraging creativity, delivering strategy, and inspiring motivation. Prior to the cruise, William had also asked all the delegates to read a book and watch a film. Mine were 21 Irrefutable Laws of Leadership and Office Space, respectively. A light exercise, yes, but also a good opportunity to debate the themes of leadership with the other delegates, exchanging ideas and interpretations. The rest of the trip provided much-needed respite from the mania of work and the overkill of Christmas. For six days, it was all about regrouping, discovering and seamlessly changing. Oh, and of course, ending up in New York for a little indulgent shopping and sightseeing. But the question is: did this all work? Well, as of writing, I haven’t had a full-on panic attack for just over eight months. Naturally, there are times when my brain will play tricks and I fear a relapse, but altogether, I’m not only in control my mind again, but my life and job too. If times get too hard, William is only a phone call away; he makes a point of keeping in touch with all delegates, offering ongoing support and advice. And was it worth the money? This question is frankly redundant, because you can’t put a price on well-being and the respect of your peers. As John F. Kennedy said, “Leadership and learning are indispensible to each other.” And if learning and teaching are inextricably linked, then you’d be hard pressed to find a better teacher than William Montgomery. For further information, please refer to The Directory on page 80

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P R I VA T E J E T C H A R T E R

Family function Private aviation is no longer just for businesses, but families too. ONF ORM finds out more.

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or far too long now, private aviation has been misunderstood. It’s not about business, celebrity, speed or pretention; it’s about comfort, ease and good service. Nowadays, you’re just as likely to see families on board private jets as you are entrepreneurs. People are realising that private flights not only alleviate unnecessary travel stress, but are often cost-effective too. We’ve all been there: getting up early to go to the airport, only to check in and wait around for hours, bored, children frustrated, everyone wanting to get to their destination as quickly as possible. Private jets, simply, eliminate the part of holidays that everybody hates.

“It’s an unwelcome hassle,” says Rachel Woods, whose family of fourteen, grandparents included, have all just holidayed by private jet for the first time. “Usually, when flying commercially, you’re stressed before it even begins, especially if you’re only going for a few days. My husband and I always think ‘Is it really worth it?’ We’d never considered flying privately until some friends recommended it.” Perhaps that’s the fundamental problem with private aviation: it’s not commonly associated with families and holidays, but rather individuals and business meetings. “Definitely,” agrees Rachel, “people automatically associate private flying with business, not pleasure. But, as we found out, that’s not the case at all.”

The Woods family used Private Jet Charter (PJC) for their flights. We can’t help but ask what made them choose the company. “Again, our friends,” replies Rachel. “They have used private jets for years, mainly for business. When they suggested we fly privately for holiday, we asked which company was best. They always use PJC and pointed us in the right direction.” Coincidentally enough, we reviewed the Citation X, one of the aircraft used by PJC, last issue. Did the family use this jet? “No, we were recommended the Gulfstream IV, as it has fifteen seats and there were fourteen of us flying. Plus, for the children, it provided all the necessary distractions!” Indeed, for families with children, private aviation seems like a win-win situation. Not only do you get everyone sat together, which is not always possible on commercial flights, but there’s also plenty to do. Typically, on board, you will find big screen TVs, DVD players, and you can use your own personal games consoles, computers and tablets, all within the setting of comfy sofas and recliners. Plus, there’s on board catering – a chance to pick your food, not settle for a questionable

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set menu (and we all know how fussy the little ones can be). But, as aforesaid, it’s also a case of timescales, removing the burden from the voyage. Take a commercial flight: fifteen minutes getting from the car park to the terminal, two hours checking in and passing security, and then loitering in the departure lounge with hundreds of others, only to be subject to a delayed flight. By flying private, however, families can make their way to the airport, without rush, just twenty minutes before takeoff. “Everybody is infinitely happier,” says Rachel. “It’s an ideal and relaxed start to any holiday.”

“Flying privately for holidays is a natural progression of having flown for business. People enjoy it and want to use the service with their families” We’re eager to know of any other benefits that may have been overlooked – and yes, there’s a big one: security. This is twofold. Firstly, children can look after themselves without parents having to worry or nag. And just as importantly, parents don’t have to be concerned about their children disturbing other passengers. Secondly, in an ever-changing world of security threats, flying privately ensures unparalleled safety for all the family – period. We decided to ask PJC why they thought families were increasingly using their service. “It’s a mix really,” says Hugh Courteney, the CEO. “Due to the pressures of today’s lifestyles, we need to make the most of the little time we have with the family. Often, flying privately for holidays is a natural progression of having flown for business. People enjoy it and want to use the service with their families too. In other cases, people just want family holidays to be that extra bit special – it’s something more to remember.” Rachel concurs, summing up the experience better than we ever could: “It’s definitely the best way we’ve ever travelled, especially as such a big group. Now we’ve done it, we couldn’t imagine not flying privately. There’s no going back!” And who can argue with that. For further information, please refer to The Directory on page 80

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R E S TA U R A N T S : G I L L R AY ’S S T E A K H O U S E

Gillray’s Steakhouse London, SE1

Does London really need another steakhouse? Laith Al-Kaisy chews the fat.

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t’s a paradox that, during a recession, high-end restaurants thrive and less expensive restaurants fail. And, in moments of hardship, there’s one plate of food that out-eats any other. Steak is a sign of the times – very us, very double-dip. It’s the most a man can get for his money without feeling shafted by the system. Hard times should, theoretically, be punctuated by frugality and abstinence – soup, vegetables, grain and off-cuts. Yet, in practice, there’s nothing better than chowing down on the muscular pomposity of a gory steak. It’s the ultimate reassurance, the forty-day-aged midlife crisis, the culinary declaration of status. A steak represents the fat of success, the chew of ambition, and the protein of providence. It’s adversity with bone marrow and mustard. Gillray’s, the new offering at London’s Marriot County Hall, epitomises everything about recessional appetite and aesthetic. The room is vast, high-ceilinged, with an air of ceremony and grandeur. It even evokes Depression-era decor, as does the bar, with its cute focus on ginand-something aperitifs. But, however pleasant the surroundings, does London really need another steakhouse? There’s a fundamental problem with steakhouses: they all charge the same prices. This wouldn’t be an issue if their quality was consistent, but we’ve all had steaks that are a cross between Leatherface’s mask and a biopsy tray. You’d probably consider it face-slappingly condescending if I explained the mechanics behind cooking the perfect piece of beef, yet so many chefs get it wrong. There’s the obvious advice to cook it quickly and let it rest, but so much more lies in the seasoning of flesh and the rendering of fat. It’s a waste of time hanging and ageing a bit of meat only to murder it a second time. Have some respect: if you’re going to cook a cow, do it properly. I was dining with my brother, Justin, who is the actual critic in the family – not professional, but a better one than I will ever be. He kept asking what I was going to write in my review. He never reads anything I write, so

I told him how I usually just waffle, a kind of circumstantial speech, without much substance and even less guile. His decision-making plays like a lesson in neuroscience. He deliberated and backtracked over which starter to order – the prawn cocktail or the corned beef and bacon hash – until we agreed to share three dishes, including my choice of scallops with smoked bacon and pea mash. The scallops were okay, not memorable, lacking cohesion and bite, and the prawn cocktail was, as Justin opined, ‘just a prawn cocktail’. The corned beef and bacon hash, however, was everything a good dish should be: more than the sum of its parts. The taste was bold, the texture light yet assertive, all bound together with the unctuous yolk of a fried quail’s egg. One of the best starters I’ve tried this year. In the spirit of assessing a restaurant, it probably seems selfish that we both ordered steak. Selfish, but not regretful – this is a steakhouse, after all. He went fillet, I went rib-eye. Everyone knows what a good quality, well-executed steak tastes like, so it’s pointless me insulting you. A menu may have ten different steaks to choose from, but you only ever get served one of two: a good steak or a bad steak. The steaks at Gillray’s are unimpeachable, to the point of showing off. The produce is wellsourced, the cooking is even, and the fat melts on the tongue like butter on a hotplate. Bovine brilliance. Steaks are served with a selection of mustards, ranging from genial to sinus-burning – a seriously deft touch. As a rule of thumb, side dishes for steaks are generally pitiful creatures, like sick patients in the gastronomic waiting room, treated with sympathy rather than ceremony. Gillray’s offers sides that people actually care about: black pudding, bone marrow, carpetbag oysters, crab oscar, alongside mushrooms, creamed spinach and triple-cooked chips. This is eating at its best: solid plates of food, without the pretence, without the pokey portions and without the superfluous decoration, delivering exactly what you came in for. The dessert menu posed yet another quandary for my brother: apple pie or sticky toffee pudding. He settled for the latter, on the basis it came with custard, not ice cream. The staff, who were charming and effusive enough, accommodated without any fuss. He initially described it as the best sticky toffee pudding he’d ever had – but then, in a moment of realisation, no doubt triggered by the fear of being published, abruptly retracted the comment. You’re welcome, bro. My lemon meringue pie was served chilled, not hot, the way it should be. Its Madonna-bra peaks were firm, crunchy and sticky. The base was thin and undemanding, with an overzealous filling of zesty curd. It was a well-judged curtain call, an exclamation point, to a well-judged service. It doesn’t take a closing paragraph to summarise Gillray’s. In fact, the older sibling did it in one succinct sentence: ‘For a steakhouse, it delivers’. And he’s right. Gillray’s proves that steakhouses don’t need reinvention or quirks, just the knowledge and ability to do what they advertise, because nothing is harder to swallow than a botched bit of beef. Except the bill, of course.

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DRINK

Terroir firma Bordeaux has it all: the glitz, the glamour and the fairytale chateaux. But where was this aura of the Gironde spawned? Andy Simkins explains all.

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ordeaux wines are revered for their exceptional quality, unmatched in the old and new worlds. For hundreds of years, the area of Medoc has been lying dormant, an immeasurable potential lying under a wasteland of water. Indeed, it wasn’t utilised until the seventeenth century, when Dutch traders took it upon themselves to drain the area (commonly known as the Left Bank) and plant vines. Their goal was to produce superior wine, aimed at a more polished society, replacing savage with savvy. Time passed, vines settled and matured, and the region’s reputation slowly began to blossom. For anybody who knows Bordeaux history, the year 1855 will ring a bell. It was during the reign of the newly-crowned Napoleon that the grand ‘Exposition Universelle de Paris’ was planned. Napoleon called for Bordeaux’s best, showcasing the finest wine to the rest of the world. Napoleon’s merchants held a blind tasting, rating all the wines, and then ranking them in order of excellence. The wines were graded into what we have today: the cru. The classification refers to five growths or crus. The first growth contains four wines from the Medoc and one from La Grave. These are indeed the best of Bordeaux, referred to as the Big Five: Chateau Margaux, Chateau Latour, Chateau Moutin Rothschild, Chateau Lafite Rothschild, and Haut Brion. Over the years, people have tried to encourage a reshuffle of the classifications, but it stands almost unchanged. The only exception was Mouton Rothschild, which was promoted in 1973.

“Napoleon’s merchants held a blind tasting... the wines were graded into what we have today: the cru” So, what makes Bordeaux so special? People tiptoe around the phrase ‘terroir’, but do they really grasp what it means, or what it means to wine? Terroir incorporates everything, an umbrella of variables, from the gentle nurturing of the Atlantic Ocean and its maritime climate, casting moderate winters and warm summers, to the warming Gulf Stream waters that fill the Gironde river. These specifics are vital to the harvest; enough rain to promote healthy growth, but not so much that the grapes over-hydrate and produce bodiless wines. A third factor is the soil itself. The Left Bank is predominantly gravel and clay, rich in minerals, and retains little water at the surface. The vines have to work hard; their efforts run metres into the ground. It may sound a little like coral – that the plant is fighting the elements – but this forces it to produce exceptional grapes and reduce the foliage. A final passing thought on vintages: not all years for Bordeaux have been kind. Recent years, specifically 2006 and 2007, have been disappointing. Also, wines between 1991 and 1993 require some caution. In my opinion, the best year to savour and invest in is 2005, which some wine critics have called the best in Bordeaux history – even better than 1982.

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R E S TA U R A N T S : R O A S T

Roast

London, SE1

Roast is a gastronome’s delight. It also serves some of the finest booze in town, as Peter Robinson finds out.

When Iqbal Wahhab OBE stepped down as director of the Cinnamon Club, the London restaurant brigade knew it was a move to pastures greener. Let us start at the beginning: the name itself. I doubt it came from this, but it’s an interesting ortolan of an anecdote nonetheless: at the Cinnamon Club, during a fire-fighter strike, copies of a large expenses bill, run-up by the now-debunked union leader Andy Gilchrist, found their way to journos, costing Gilchrist his job and pocketing Wahhab untold thousands in free advertising. Roast is not a new restaurant, but it has developed its loyal following of traditional and modern, well-heeled diners through hard graft. When I hopped into a cab, the driver seemed surprised to take a fare to a restaurant in Borough Market that he hadn’t heard of. I assumed this either meant it was off the beaten track, or the cabby didn’t have the knowledge. In any event, it had been a long day in London, traipsing from meeting to meeting, so I had earned – nay, was the heir-apparent to – a stiff drink and some fine food. When I arrived at Borough, having waited for my culinary companion for long enough, I decided to take the lift to the restaurant solo. The first thing that strikes you about Roast is the light; windows encapsulate it on three of its four sides, giving you a great view of the Dickensian market. After been seated, I ordered my staple beverage – having faced off captains of industry all day, a Bloody Mary. The bottle of Dom Pérignon was in celebration of not having seen the delightful Eleanor Burke for almost three months. If there was ever cause for champagne, et cetera. I surveyed the menu, first noting the Honour Role, a polite and deserving nod to those that had toiled to supply tonight’s fare: Miles Irving of Kent for the herbs and vegetables; wild boar bacon from Peter Gott of Sillfield Farm; and hand-dived Isle of Mull scallops from Guy Grieve of Ethical Shellfish Co. I sat back in my chair and started to ponder the zero-carbon-footprint approach that many British eateries had begun to take, when I was tousled on the bonce by the one and only Elly, one of my oldest friends. After the obligatory toasts and catch up, we perused the menu. I opted for the pan-fried Braddock White duck egg with baby squid and Bath pig chorizo, mainly because I’m addicted to the cuisine of the Iberian Peninsula. It was a delicate dish that melded together the good work of both fowl and pig, in a rich but not overpowering manner. My initial thoughts were that the squid would be a step too far, but I was quickly

proven wrong, possibly because the chorizo and duck egg overpowered the infant squid ten to one. Gin-cured Loch Duart salmon with soused cucumber was Elly’s choice, possibly because she was recovering from a night on the tiles, so sought to try every dish containing an ABV of forty-plus. She concurred that it was brilliant and complex; a sophisticated dialectic. We moved forth to the specials menu. Having never been able to say no to a decent slab of suckling pig, I liked the idea, but perhaps not the idea of its aftermath. It would have most certainly involved in me keeling over, having eaten more than my average frame can handle. The waitress, sensing my quandary, informed me that the pig was off, having been suckled by every other London gent that evening. So, I opted for the pan-fried fillets of Cornish gurnard with clams in New Forest cider and sea aster. Elly ordered the herb-roasted fillet of Clew Bay sea trout with a warm salad of spring vegetables and wild boar bacon. Luckily, I had warmed up the larynx with a nice Lagavulin, so enunciating this cornucopia of delights wasn’t too tough. The dishes were well-balanced and light, which surprised me, given that I had expected a ‘roast’; dripping slabs of flesh, carved from the bodies of Genghis Khan’s adversaries. This was not the case. This was all washed down with a few more whiskies, from a truly first-class selection, and accompanied by an upstanding cheese board. Roast occupies a truly stunning space and is the sort of restaurant in which I could happily while away the hours, with good company, pheasant on fork, stopping only to quaff another scotch from a well-cut glass.

70 Summer 2012

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Petrol-heads’ Paradise

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MOTORING

The Goodwood Festival of Speed celebrated three Diamond Jubilees this year, in typical automotive style. Graeme Morpeth reports.

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he Diamond Jubilee of Queen Elizabeth II was observed via a collection of thirty-three cars used by the Royal Family, and never before seen in one place at one time. The most notable were the three state limousines used on overseas engagements: the 1950 Lincoln Cosmopolitan ‘Bubbletop’ used by President Eisenhower; the 1965 Mercedes-Benz 600 Pullman used by Kurt Georg Kiesinger, the German Chancellor; and the 1973 Citroen SM Cabriolet used by Valéry Giscard d’Estaing, President of France. The others reflected state occasions and the townand-country lifestyle enjoyed by the monarchy. A range of Daimler, Rolls-Royce and Austin Limousines for state occasions, covered the period 1902 -1992; Daimler, Ford, Vauxhall, and Land Rovers for country use covered the period 1937-2000; and finally, a number of regal runabouts for town use: 1955 Jaguar MkV11, 1962 Alvis TD21 DHC, 1965 Rover P5, 1969 Aston Martin DB6 Volante (that car from the wedding of 2011), and a 1991 Daimler Double Six . The latter were cars that the Queen both drove and was driven in. All these carriages of the Crown were presented in the Cartier Style et Luxe arena. The incorporation of Lotus Cars by Anthony Colin Bruce Chapman in 1952, and the production of the Types 6 and 7, established his company as a small-volume sports car manufacturer. His obsession with ‘building in lightness’ focused on lightweight cars and fine handling, rather than horsepower and spring rates. This produced fast but fragile road and racing cars. However, his relentless innovation produced some of the best F1 cars ever. An enormous metal sculpture, 28 metres high, in the approximate form of a three-dimensional three-leaf clover, held aloft six Lotus F1 cars from various eras, starting with the Type 32B and finishing with the 2011 F1 car. One of the most notable Lotus drivers, double F1 World Champion Emerson Fittipaldi, was on hand to demonstrate his skills in a Gold Leaf-liveried Type 49C and a pair of Type 72s. The 72, he remembered, was “the best car I ever drove. Chapman was a genius.” Mercedes Benz won the 1952 Le Mans with two W194 300SL sports/ racers: Number 21 driven by Hermann Lang and Fritz Reiss came first; Number 20 driven by Theo Helfrich and Helmut Niedermayer came second. The W194 evolved into the legendary W198 Gullwing, the first in a long line of SL sports cars, and examples of all six models were on display (Ws 198, 113, 107, 129, 230 and the SLS AMG). The other Benz worth waiting for was the mighty 1937 W125, driven at top speed by Jochen ‘Flat Out’ Mass. Introduced for the 1937 season, these 750kg cars were fitted with 650bhp supercharged, straight-eight engines, a formidable combination of light weight and brute force. During the ‘37 British Grand Prix, held at Donington Park, the fastest British competitors were ERAs, weighing 916kg and boasting all of 240bhp – they did not win against the Teutonic Titans. The annual ‘King of the Hill’ competition was hampered by a drizzle-slippery track for the Sunday afternoon final. The proceedings were further disrupted when Rod Millen, a former winner, hammered the bales in his 1000bhp Toyota Tacoma ‘Pikes Peak’ racer ; neither were too badly damaged! Following the restart, Anthony Reid blasted his Chevron GT3 racer up the hill in a blazing 46.46 seconds, crossing

the line at 131 mph. This performance edged out the favourite Gary Ward, who steered his Leyton House-Judd CG901B Grand Prix car up the hill in 46.80 seconds. However, fastest across the line, at 142 mph, was the Group C Jaguar XJR8/9 driven by Justin Law. It was a suitably dramatic conclusion an enthralling competition. The rest of the four-day event indulged us motoring maniacs with excesses of noise, tyre smoke, spills and thrills, and personalities galore: Sebastian Vettel, Mark Webber, Jenson Button, Lewis Hamilton, Nico Rosberg, Sir Stirling Moss, Alain Prost, Emerson Fittipaldi, Jochen Rindt, Tom Kristensen, Jimmy Macrae, John Surtees, Rauno Altonen, Norman Dewis, Nick Mason – the list goes on. A celebration of the ‘Young Guns of Motor Racing’, past and present, completed the pageant. Alain Prost revelled in his first Goodwood appearance and was suitably impressed by the display in his honour. My highlight was watching Stirling Moss and Norman Dewis driving MDU 212, the Jaguar C-Type, chassis no XKC005, which Moss drove to victory in the 1952 Boreham International. This particular car has been signed on the inner bonnet skin by both Moss and Dewis, and is worth somewhere in the reason of £3 million. Bonhams achieved a notable first this year with their sale of the exSir Henry ‘Tim’ Birkin 1929-31 4.5-litre supercharged Blower Bentley for £5,042,000 ($7.9 million USD). The single-seat car, which when new raised the Brooklands Outer Circuit record to 137 mph, now holds the record as the most expensive Bentley ever sold at public auction. The other notable sale was the 1912 40/50 Hp Rolls-Royce Double Pullman Silver Ghost, which went under the hammer for £4.7m. This car is often referred to as The Corgi, because it was copied by Corgi Toys during the 1960s. A final thought here: such is the success of this annual event, it is looked upon by most of the major manufacturers as the place to showcase their products, schmooze ‘n’ booze with important customers, and actually sell cars. The Goodwood Festival of Speed and British Motor Show combined. You may well have heard it here first!

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C H A R I T Y: P O L O

Fortune favours the brave Peter Robinson visits Polo for the Brave, a charity event steeped in tradition and competition.

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n the mid 19th century, an Irishman, Captain John Watson, of the British Cavalry 13th Hussars, created the first set of written rules for playing polo. Arguably, the origins can be traced back to nomadic warriors over two thousand years ago. Used for training cavalry, the game was played from Constantinople to Japan in the Middle Ages. Tamerlane’s polo grounds can still be seen in Samarkand. It’s perhaps fitting, then, that this game of kings should be the chosen sport to raise funds for The British Forces Foundation (BFF) and the Household Cavalry Operational Casualties Fund HCOCF. When we were invited to cover the inaugural Polo For The Brave event, my first thought was ‘interesting choice of date’. It was Royal Ascot weekend and so the prospect of driving through the Ascot traffic filled both my driver and I with dread. We needn’t have worried: even though a large proportion of high society had decamped to Ascot, a select few had been invited to the Berenberg Bank-sponsored event at Coworth Park. As we rolled up the tree-lined drive of the Dorchester Collection’s countryside jewel, it seemed as though the warm summer sun had unveiled itself at the perfect moment. As exclusivity goes, it was up there with the best of VIP events – open only to the myriad of sponsors and their specifically-invited guests. As we entered, passed the cavalry guards in full regalia, the Taittinger reception was in full swing, alongside some of the product ranges of London’s most luxurious brands, including effortlessly-refined Jet Mocs by Harry’s of London, timeless wallets and cufflinks by Ettinger,

the diamond jubilee timepiece from Backes & Strauss, and some stunning luxury hand luggage, business card holders and more by Elvis and Kresse, all of which made from decommissioned British fire hoses. Suffice to say, there was more than enough to keep the well-heeled crowd entertained. After a splendid luncheon, a tip of the cap to the team at Coworth Park, introductory speeches by the CEOs of both charities, a charity auction to complement the silent auction, and a charity raffle, it was finally time to order the charge. The Berenberg International itself did not disappoint. An encounter at this level, between two teams suitably galvanised to win for pride and a stunning prize, that ends with one team scoring in the final seconds to secure a half-goal win is always going to capture what the British Army refer to as the ‘hearts and minds’ of any crowd. The first match was a high-goal match: Hurlingham Great Britain versus The Commonwealth. With two teams, totalling a handicap of thirtyeight between them, the standard of polo was exemplary. An extremely hard-fought match ensued over the usual four chukkas of seven minutes, and it each brought a score of four goals to Team GB and four-and-a-half goals to The Commonwealth.

“As exclusivity goes, it was up there with the best of VIP events” The second match was a low-goal match between The Household Cavalry and Wallerstein Polo, patroned by HSH Prince Carl-Eugen zu Oettingen-Wallerstein. The stage was set for a classic England vs. Germany clash. As so often the way on the football pitch, the same was true on the polo pitch: the Germans prevailed by two goals to nil, and The Household Cavalry retired to their nearby Knightsbridge Barracks to plot revenge and re-examine tactics. By raising in excess of £40,000, the inaugural Polo For The Brave has not only ensured that this military charity fundraiser will return with the same relaxed atmosphere next year, but also with the ambition to reach that symbolic six-figure result for the charities involved. God speed to the brave men and women of Her Majesty’s Armed Forces. Let us see how deep we can all dig next year in support of these fantastic charities.

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Photo: Edward Lloyd Owen

VIP marquee

Commonwealth vs. Hurlingham GB teams

Pitch side marquee

Pitch side marquee Commonwealth, Wallerstein, The Household Cavalry, Hurlingham GB

Mark Francis, star of Made in Chelsea Wallerstein vs. The Household Cavalry

Captain Sam Instone Viscount Melville and friends

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CULTURE: FILM

Reel Talk Ben Brundell looks at the latest cinema and DVD releases. Take This Waltz Margot (Michelle Williams) has a great life. She has steady work as a freelance writer and lives on a pretty street in Toronto. She’s married, too, living with Lou (Seth Rogen), her husband of five years. Lou’s writing a cookbook of chicken-based recipes, and likes nothing better than to prepare yummy chicken dinners. On the surface, Lou and Margot’s marriage seems perfect. They even have their own little quirks that make you think ‘now there’s a real couple’. Lou routinely pours a cup of cold water over Margot’s head during her morning shower (she shrieks each time, and has no idea that Lou is responsible), and the couple have their own in-joke banter (Margot might say, ‘I love you so much I’m gonna mash your head with a potato masher’, and Lou might say, ‘I love you so much I’m gonna inject your face with a curious combination of swine flu and ebola’). But there’s this other bloke – Daniel, an artist and rickshaw-runner. He meets Margot while she’s out of town on a writing job, and the two have instant chemistry. Margot’s return home should mark the end of their encounter. But Daniel is still there in Toronto; he lives on the same street, just across the road. Margot seems to genuinely love her husband, but she’s also restless and dissatisfied with their life together. And Daniel is new and exciting. As Margot and Daniel start spending more time together, the question becomes: will she or won’t she? The director of Take This Waltz, Canadian filmmaker Sarah Polley (Away from Her), tells an intriguing story without obvious goodies and baddies; though Margot seems like a selfish character, she’s also vulnerable and somewhat likeable. The film is also rich in realism, and has garnered attention for its shower scene, which is completely non-sexual, and a reflection of real-life nudity not often seen on film. Though Take this Waltz is an engaging watch, it won’t be everyone’s cup of tea. But if you enjoy exploring relationship issues (or if non-sexualised, full-frontal shower scenes are your bag) then give this one a look when it’s released in August.

Jeff, Who Lives at Home There are too many decisions in modern life. Where will you go on holiday this year? Which shoes will you wear? And what’s for breakfast? Cereal? Maybe a croissant? Or just stick to toast and jam. Blackcurrant Jam? Strawberry? Marmalade? Please, kill me now. Jeff, Who Lives at Home, set for DVD release in September, centres on Jeff (Jason Segel), a thirty-year-old likeable layabout who lives in his mother’s house, and spends his time pondering his destiny. He needs to fix the broken wooden shutter on the kitchen door (his mother keeps reminding him) and maybe get himself a job. But Jeff is consumed with an obsession for the M. Night Shyamalan film Signs, and has his own system for living: he must wait for the universe to tell him what to do, and act only when he’s given a signal. Is this way of thinking pure genius, or a recipe for disappointment? After Jeff receives a wrong-number call asking for ‘Kevin’, he’s derailed from his quest for wood-glue when he spots a basketball vest with ‘Kevin’ written on the back and decides to tail the owner (‘there are no wrong numbers’, he says). This doesn’t end well, but Jeff soldiers on. Meanwhile, Jeff’s mother Sharon (Susan Sarandon) has a secret admirer and his brother Pat (Ed Helms) has marital troubles. With a wife, a job and a brand new Porsche, Pat is Jeff’s polar opposite. He seems to have everything going for him, but now he suspects that his wife is cheating on him, and Jeff is soon roped in to determine if this is the case. Directors of the film, Jay Duplas and Mark Duplas, have been described as mumblecore, a term given to filmmakers working with meagre budgets and naturalistic dialogue. If you’re used to the sensory overload that often comes with high-budget special effects, this style is a refreshing change. With Jeff, Who Lives at Home, I was half expecting a lesson in the dangers of being too carefree. Instead, after a snappy eighty-three minutes, there was an action-packed conclusion and I was left with the feeling that I’d just watched a great movie (whilst eating toast).

76 Summer 2012

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CULTURE: ART

Raw Materials Charlotte Woods discusses Bristol’s newest art offering.

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ouring nationally with The Art Fund (and owned jointly by the Tate Gallery and National Gallery of Scotland), Raw Materials at Bristol Museum and Art Gallery forms part of the Artist Rooms collection of international contemporary art. Assembled from one of the largest gifts ever made to British museums, all of the pieces on display were donated by the British art dealer Anthony D’Offay in 2008. Valued at £125 million, but sold at a fraction of the original price, D’Offay was closing his gallery on Dering Street and making a financial loss, in a philanthropic quest to ensure that the 725 works could be viewed by the nation. He was all too aware of the difficulty to see great contemporary art outside of the capital, and was particularly conscious that many young people were missing out on an important part of their education. The ex-art dealer is now curator of Artist Rooms and has been instrumental in ensuring the collection does not become a scattering of token pieces, but is a well-structured series of accessible art exhibitions spread throughout the UK. Poignantly, in a city famed for the satirical street artist Banksy, Bristol Museum and Art Gallery will be hosting major works by four American conceptual artists who were pioneers in using materials and media not traditionally seen in a gallery setting. Feeling frustrated by traditional perimeters, the artist Jenny Holzer, who has a number of pieces on show, abandoned the gallery altogether and headed for the urban environment of 1970s New York. Her subsequent works bulldozed through previous art convention and paved the way for street artists such as Banksy to emerge. Holzer’s early street fly-posters (Inflammatory Essays 1979–82) displayed text devised by the artist to show a conflicting array of hot topics and views; far-left to far-right messages were purposefully pasted on the street walls in Manhattan to evoke a reaction in the reader and even provoke them to ‘consider doing something different’ in response. In an interview with Jeanne Siegal, Holzer stated, “From the beginning, my work has been designed to be stumbled across in the course of a person’s daily life. I think it has the most impact when someone is just walking along, not thinking about anything in particular, and then finds these unusual statements either on a poster or in a sign.” Bringing together key pieces by Jenny Holzer, Bruce Nauman, Ed Ruscha and Lawrence Weiner, the exhibition unites artists that have a keen interest in the use of language as part of their work: Nauman uses our familiarity with neon-light shop signs to convey his distortions of everyday phrases, while Lawrence Weiner challenges the idea that art has to consist of a physical object at all, and instead focuses on the interaction between art and viewer. In Tied Up In Knots, Weiner displays a series of statements that each describe an action. Viewed by Weiner as a sculpture, it invites the viewer to construct the piece with their imagination. Back on the streets and highways of America, and heavily influenced by American popular culture, Ruscha’s work is all about signs, either in the form of words or visual imagery, both often appearing together in witty and ironic contradictions. Ed Ruscha often used unconventional

Top: Bruce Nauman, La Brea / Art Tips / Rat Spit / Tar Pits, 1972, Neon and glass tubing: 61.90 x 58.40 x 5.10 cm. Above: Bruce Nauman, Violent Incident 1986, Video Installation. and bizarre materials in his earlier works to depict single words from the steady stream of typographical references that confronted him daily. In Dance? (1973), Ruscha applies symbols of west-coast pop-culture onto the canvas in strips of mustard, ketchup, chilli sauce, cheese and coffee. Each of these unlikely art materials takes you straight to the diner: the ultimate icon of America. His later artwork Pay Nothing Until April (2003) depicts a breathtakingly photorealistic mountain range, only for it to become a backdrop to the insipid, but too familiar statement which gives the piece its name. Ruscha’s work continually throws back the barrage of mass media-fed images and words and, in doing so, not only highlights their power, but also their banality. By each of the artists rejecting the gallery, traditional media or physical object as a determiner of art, they put the audience in a quandary, left asking questions and searching for answers. Beautifully summed up by Anthony D’Offray, “Art is important because it stimulates… people’s creativity. If you see great art it makes you ask questions and if you ask questions it makes you seek answers. It’s always been in my mind that this is something I wanted to do.” Raw Materials runs at Bristol Museum & Art Gallery from 30 June – 23 September 2012. Free entry.

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D I S C E R N I N G TA S T E S

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Music to our ears Pioneer X HM71 & X-HM81 Around £475 Pioneer’s newest all-in-one micro hi-fi system is (unsurprisingly) designed to the highest audio standards. Its features include AirPlay1, an iPod and iPhone dock, and a USB slot for an iPad. The system will also stream high-quality audio directly from a PC2 and DLNA-equipped Android smartphone or tablet PC, boasting a fine sound quality playback for your entire music library. Apple users can stream music via AirPlay from any of their devices. Along with the high-performance, the unit is tastefully designed, and is available in black or sliver brushed aluminium. And it’s always nice to have something that looks as good as it sounds. pioneer.eu/uk

A matter of time Nixon A209 £899 Fashions may come and go, but you know what they say: quality lasts a lifetime. Swiss watches are a perfect example of this – especially those made by Nixon. The A209 is elegant, simple and sleek, with timeless design and diligent mechanics. It features Swiss-made mechanical automatic, with day and date, and sweeping seconds. Its case is custom, 200 meter, 44mm stainless steel with scratch-resistant protection; sapphire crystals and tungsten top-ring; and a tungstencapped crown. The band is a three-link, stainless steel bracelet, with solid bar, double-locking clasp. And the finished product is nothing short of sophistication. nixon.com

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Close shave Phillips SensoTouch 3D From £250 Is there a better feeling than a clean shave? Probably. But that doesn’t mean you can’t still enjoy the experience. Phillips releases its most advanced electric shaver to date: the SensoTouch 3D. Aside from providing a close shave, this device promises minimal irritation and super-smooth skin. The GyroFlex 3D system follows the contours of the face lovingly, ensuring minimum pressure. The head also features 360° pivoting, with outward flexing and inward tilting. And the in-built Aquatec seal allows the user to choose between a dry shave and a wet shave, and is also compatible for use in the shower. What more could you want from a shave? philips-shop.co.uk

Handy hedonism Alison Van Der Lande Tote Bag £415 This Alison Van Der Lande Tote Bag is both chic and classic. Its cute size suits the role of ‘everyday’ handbag perfectly. Plus, the sleek black looks fabulous with jeans. To be carried in the crook of the arm or by the hand, the bag opens to reveal two inner compartments, ideal for organisation and storage. In terms of detail, it has contrasting coloured lining inside, which makes it equally gorgeous to look at. Inside, there is also a phone, lipstick and zip pocket – agreeably ergonomic. 59strings.com

24 carat cool Finest Seven Zero 01 £695 Handmade in the mountains of Italy, with casing handmade in Spain, these shades boast five layered hinges for durability. The design is minimal and elegant, plated with three microns of either 24 carat gold, yellow gold, 14 carat gold, white gold, rose gold or platinum. With metal pad arms and silicon pads, these frames can be adjusted to fit any face. net-a-porter.com

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