Thursday 16th 22.00hrs: Nice Airport, International lounge, Eyes fixed on floor. Please, let no one speak, like EVER AGAIN. I’m tired and I wanna go to bed. My fellow refugees from The Bunker feel the same, judging by their hangdog expressions. We’ve all had our fill of small talk and card swapping.
Personally, I’ve had my fill of planet-saving virtue signalling. This is the real estate industry for heaven’s sake! Mipim is a bazaar filled with 23,000 folks who have jetted in and are looking to expend the world’s resources by building or, OK, refurbishing things. But mainly building a shiny new world of skyscrapers and cities in the desert.
I don’t know, maybe I’ve just had enough. EZY8360 to Gatwick was supposed to take off at 21.20. Only just touched down. Stuck here missing Mipim’s best night out, when stays are loosened and hair let down.
Never mind, done the business with the El Capo of Capannone over dinner at a cost of €430. Our Neapolitan shed investor is now not coming to London tomorrow to discover why the sheds we bought him in 2020/21 are showing a £15m loss. I promised him first dibs from an LPA receivership due to land in GBH’s lap when the bank calls in the loans from a private shed investor who has just crashed his LTV covenants.