Mayfair

There is a cafe in Stansted airport which provides the best bloody Marys at any time of day. This is my favourite place to write blog posts.

The optimal time being somewhere between quarter of the way through the first, and towards the bottom of the second. As a result I feel more at peace with my productivity and if HMRC ever come knocking I can point to my output and say that, if ever anyone needed a muse at 5.30 in the morning it would be me, and, in the absence of Sarah, the best possible muse is tomato juice, vodka and a dollop of sumac.

I am not at Stansted at the moment, and as a result my thoughts don’t fly like the eagle, but more patter along like a fat, contented pigeon. Which is apt, because we are moving to the home of the pigeon, Nelson’s column and, from time to time, Paddington bear. The girls are old enough to need minimal attention from their parents, and Sarah and I have enough petrol in the tank for one last gallop into the Metropolis. It is time to come home.

Our background is all London. Sarah and I met at Christie’s, and lived half an hour’s walk away. Something that wouldn’t be possible on a Christie’s salary now I expect. We moved to Wales to have children and, if the girls don’t have black-lung as a result, I consider that a price worth paying. Still, there was an opportunity cost. We didn’t manage to surf the London housing market, sadly, and I missed out on business as well. No regrets our side. We have been incredibly happy, incredibly busy, and have built Amati into a behemoth, one of the largest in the world for what it does, but it is time to come back.

Our girls have been at boarding school for a long time now and as they glide towards and through sixth form, it is time for Sarah and I to focus our attention elsewhere. In this case, 10A Chandos Street, W1. Right opposite the Langham. Five seconds from Cavendish Square and about a minute from Oxford Street. If you navigate by dealerships, about two minutes from J & A Beare.

“What will we do there?“, I hear the one person reading this call from a distance. Well, that bit is easy. We shall exist. We shall show people the instruments we have on view, we shall value instruments that people choose to bring us, but mostly I shall sit beside a desk, ready to leap to my feet and pour visitors coffee and armagnac. We shall be a gentle but persistent presence, and most of all, we shall be a place you want to visit. If we aren’t welcoming, happy and homely, please let us know. If we lean towards snooty, bring me down a peg or two. If we don’t make you feel happier for visiting we have failed.

Just give us a week or so because moving furniture is hard work.

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P.S. Yes, I know that I look like an un-made bed in this photograph, but in my defence I always look like I dressed in the dark, and Sarah had to take the photograph.
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Our next auction will be the Amati Specialist on 29th October. Click HERE for more details.