Friday 20 January, 10pm, Fahrenheit 7 hotel, Val Thorens, Savoi, France: Young Thruster and I have checked in a day early for real estate networking event PropSki. Last year we bonded on the coach from the airport with a gang from Savills. Mistake
The opening Saturday night remains a fevered dream. Got away with my bar bill on expenses by dreaming up potential clients. Not that the Eighth Floor believed me.
Hence just the £894 half-week option this year, not the full seven days. This is likely to be my only jolly of the year as the Mipim budget has been murdered. No more carousing with other agents. The Eighth Floor want a full report on each client, and get this – follow-up plans by Monday week!
So, I’ve set up two meetings: one with a Danish fund manager, who is convinced there is money to be made building budget hotels over hospital car parks to house bed-blockers; the other is a chancer I met years ago who failed to make any money from solar farms and now wants to get into ‘vertical farming’ by snaffling a few of Amazon’s redundant distribution sheds and growing rabbit food on the racks.
I’ve tasked Thruster to roam the slopes and sniff round the lunch spots to nail après-ski appointments with far more credible clients.
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