Just a City boy

GUEST LEADER

Twenty-five years ago this week, I sat for a while outside the Royal Exchange building at the heart of the City, looking around at the Bank of England, the Mansion House, the nearby Stock Exchange building and the crowds of hurrying commuters.

A raw English graduate, I was about to start my first day’s work in the City, in the ‘investment department’ of a small merchant bank.  What would I make of it, I pondered.  And what would it make of me? Big Bang was imminent and broking partnerships were selling up to the merchant and investment banks. While our set of eight office desks proudly shared two large TV sets bearing share and bond prices respectively, brokers would still ring up from their boxes below the Stock Exchange floor to report on moving prices during the day, or particularly busy jobbers’ pitches. My colleagues d...