Monsieur Caviste

I can’t remember his name, so I’ll call him Monsieur Caviste, because that’s what he was.  I wonder what he’s doing now.  My best guess is that he’s one of those sharky French brokers who deal in flipped Lafon allocations and sell bottles of Romanee-Conti that maybe aren’t Romanee-Conti.  Maybe that’s unfair but the truth […]

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Give it a number. Measure it.

So the other day I’m walking along East Street on the way to the station.  It’s cold, dark and it’s 6.35am or so.  And I look round, quite deliberately, to the main door of a converted church – it’s split into flats – and see a bloke just standing there outside the door.  If the […]

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