CARAJILLO MORNINGS

I don't think I'd ever come across the name carajillo before. I'd had coffee laced with brandy once in a while but had not heard of its formalization until the mornings of the MAR Hedge Conference in Barcelona.

I don't remember the year - sometime around the turn of the millennium - when those (few) of us, who made the trip found ourselves holed-up in the Arts Hotel (or vice versa). Others liked its modern steel construction with walk-ways at different heights leading, irrelevantly to different floors like some metal-based, latter day Hogwarts. I did not - but this was partially due to a failure with the multi-button electric controls by the side of my bed. While others revelled in views across what I seem to remember was the Olympic Port, I lived, for those three nights in near Stygian gloom never able to open the blinds and afraid of calling the maid with a random guess.

I certainly remember I was not the only one to find the Hotel Arts too modern. Michael Goldman, then of Momentum prior, I think, to the purchase by Pioneer, was giving the key-note speech for which he had prepared overhead slides (remember those)? But the hotel had no such projector and Michael was confined at 9.15 on Day 1, to holding up the slides and expressing an earnest desire that we, the audience, should be able to see them as well. He certainly described them well - it was almost as good as being there, if you see what I mean.

I also remember that the shortage of delegates quickly informed the speakers that there was little point in the normal intensive networking campaign. And so people like Mark Cohen, Steve Solomon's right hand man, and Man Investments Director, John Kelly - never a man to waste time - hobnobbed with lesser folk such as me, down the carajillo cafés.

Was Matthew Tewkesbury there before he took over his cousin Monroe Trout's business? I think so. Certainly I met Pari Rajkotia, then of Bear Stearns and now Pari Lake and not of Bear Sterns, for the first time. And Elle Anderson and a fine man from Double Alpha (Charlie Zaffuto?) who won the prize for the shortest taxi journey when he fell out of a bar, fell into a taxi and asked for the Hotel Arts. The unexpected result of this request was that the driver got out of his seat, walked round to the other side of the cab, and re-opened the door. In short, where Charlie had been was where he still wanted to be.

And he was not the only Charlie in action. Charles Bathurst and his jacuzzi made an important contribution, so did Charles Macmillan and his valiant attempts to teach the nearby barmen to make Flaming B52s. I remember him saying that when they (the barmen) got the hang of it at about 3.00am, the night became 'terrible'.

All this and many untold tales, goes to reinforce the importance of a good breakfast!