Diary of a private banker

It’s a hard life for us private bankers. Now long, boozy lunches are becoming frowned upon, we’re increasingly being expected to do some actual work. This has taken its toll on me, so – much like a lot of senior wealth professionals – I’m going to be jetting off for a summer sojourn.

Her husband, the “richest of the Rothschilds” but who flirted with addiction before dying at a relatively young age, left her with the heavy responsibility of  head of the family bank.

I have watched with fascination the career progression of the highly talented Sarah Soar, head of Hawksmoor Investment Management and a woman who will go down in history as a pioneer for breaking up through the glass ceiling for females in the City.

The overwhelming emotions among clients of our bank are invariably greed and fear. The ultras, with their £25 million and above, are never sated by their net worth, and always want more.

Rupert Phelps, a man known as “Two Brains” for his superlative synapses, is launching his own family office advisory business, called Peppard Advisers.

Now that private equity player Oaktree Capital has concluded its deal to buy out Sanlam Private Wealth, that treasure of a gal, Penny Lovell, is completely free to continue her glittering career elsewhere.

Ancient China meted out many cruel torments to its victims, like water torture or death by a thousand cuts.

At the start of the year, Barclays wisely decided to re-integrate the wealth and private banking businesses, reversing that disastrous ring-fencing policy dating back to 2017.

My bank’s clientele are starting to get awfully excited about the opportunities available in the emerging metaverse, which is basically a network of 3D virtual worlds focused on social connection.

St James’s Place seemingly remains the City public enemy No 1 in the media, with fresh accusations this week that it continues  to steam along happily as a “gravy train” serving top perks for top managers.