Commercial property blog

By Dickon Broadhurst

Hello,
Given the difficulties of uploading photos and videos in Sudan, I haven’t been able to do it on this blog. However, if you are interested, my other blog is much more complete and interesting so please click on this link to get the full picture (http://www.cycletothecup.co.uk/blog/).

The text for the blog is written below if you don’t mind the lack of video and pictures. I hope you find it interesting, any comments, tips or sponsorship don’t hesitate….my site has a link to Just Giving.
Best wishes from Khartoum,
Dickon

The Heroes of the Belorusian Desert
Excuse me as I indulge in a small boast. Team Trevor was momentarily split because the rest of the team wanted to skip forward in a bus to the next town so they could watch the England Egypt friendly. My desire to cycle the whole continent meant that I opted out and Duncan offered to join me in the 170 miles (270km) from Karima to Atbara, two or three days cycling through more desert. Or not! Given that cycling with less people is a lot faster, I half heartedly suggested we cycle the whole thing in one go to see if we could arrive in time for the game as well (as a bit of a surprise for the others and so we could show off). I had forgotten Duncans propensity for stupid ideas: cycling to the worlds tallest building in Taiwan for a £1 bet and, on the way, running the Istanbul marathon in hiking boots. My suggestion approved, we were up early and heading off, immediately confronted with headwinds, hills, desert heat and meagre supplies of bread and lollipops. At 2pm we had only managed about 60 miles thanks to the conditions, and hit 100 miles at 6.30pm. Dusk. Dinner time. Bed time. Anything but cycle time. But no! We intrepidly continued listening to music and rueing the day our egos helped make decisions for us. There were few cars, but the initial lack of moon meant that it was pitch black, our eyes just capable of making out the line in the middle of the road. The postive spin of this is that it allowed us to see more stars than I have ever seen (Duncan’s phone uses GPS and an internal compass to tell you what stars you’re looking at…so clever). The moon eventually appeared a shade of blood red, as if to reflect my inner turmoil of depleted energy levels, my subsequent ill mood, and the disappearance of my sense of humour. The 5 hours were grim, and we resorted to rationing our fizzy drinks in a bid to tackle our sugar lows. We arrived as the game finished, not bad considering the wind, in a complete state and incapable of normal speech. But like with all challenges, I felt a sense of satisfaction at testing what I was capable of. 170 miles, 14 hours of actual pedalling, 8am ti 1.30am. Pretty gruelling. Why did we do it? Well Duncan has theorised that all actions can be trivialised back to the desire to procreate. In other words, impressing girls. I don’t know whether two guys wearing tight lycra cycling long distances with probable resultant fertility issues is sexy to women, but if it’s not, it damn well should be so I write this boast in earnest.

In case you didn’t know, my name is Dickon. I have a love-hate relationship with my name and I have an affinity towards the song ‘A Boy Named Sue’ by Johnny Cash. With a name like mine, the scope for purile humour is neverending. So much so, most people don’t believe that it’s my name, and those that do often prefer imaginative alternatives. At times tiresome, the one positive feature of my name is that I am an original, one in a million, a limited edition. Anyway, I foolishly look forward to travelling to foreign countries for my name to mean something good like ‘great one’, ‘lion slayer’ or ‘fights like a bear’. So it is to my dismay, and not for the first time, that I am informed that my name means chicken in Arabic. Or Dick means chicken. And so the comedy continues. Finger Lickin Dickon. My name, and therefore yours truly, will forever be a source of amusement across the world.

To prove this, we had dinner with a local family one night which was a highly enjoyable but, as usual, a linguistically challenging experience (sign language can only get you so far). A sure fire way to liven everyone up is for someone (Duncan)to mention that my name means chicken, cue Dickon makes a noise like a cockerel and everyone falls about laughing, my role in global society further cemented (Duncan has now adopted using this conversation starter everywhere he goes). Not to be outdone, the rest of the group proceeded to do impressions of other animals: John – pig, Duncan – whale, Ollie – goat and Lindsey – a bit of everything (amusing). We enjoyed it so much we have adapted our call signs as buzzers to be used in our camp fire quiz games, perplexing to any onlooker.

Just in case anyone was wondering, I am becoming proficient in Arabic. This trip isn’t simply a jolly up the Nile, it is a journey of higher education and intellectual discovery (as no doubt you can tell from my blog updates so far). I can now count to five, I know the words for ‘bread’ and ‘beans’ (unsurprisingly learnt quite early on), ‘hello, how are you’, ‘friend’, ‘expensive’, ‘cheese’, ‘god willing’ (put together they make quite an amusing but so far fruitless request), ‘chicken’ (my impression now includes a beak and rooster hat) and my latest discovery ‘beautiful’. I refer you to my comment earlier about impressing girls, well this one is brilliant. Women across the world are suckers for a compliment.

I must mention quickly Mohammed and his family that we stayed with in Atbarra (as sourced by the team who took the bus)(his family consists of him and his sisters and neices as he divorced all three of his wives in one go having got bored of them…..interesting I think). Having met us on the bus, they put us up for the night and fed us repeatedly with bread, beans, tomatoes, chicken, falafel, egg and even sausages (a vast improvement to our daily carb diet). Social etiquette it would seem is to force your guests to eat (every time you stop eating even for a second they say ‘eat, eat’), so each time we eat till we pass out having not worked out the polite way to decline their encouragments.

Their generosity is neverending and they refuse all efforts on our part to return the favour. We eventually managed to get a photo of all of them and us developed which they seemed genuinely pleased to receive it which was reassuring. They then gave us a goody bag with sugar, biscuits, sardines, tea and crisps in as a leaving present. Crazy! Does anyone put up total strangers up in London? Not many. On that note, I am currently in Khartoum staying with a bunch of Eritrean girls (refugees of sorts it would seem) that we found through the growing phenomenon of couchsurfing.com. A brilliant platform allowing you to stay or host people over the world for absolutely nothing. A great way to meet new people and stay in places for free. I intend to use it throughout the trip and particularly when I get to South Africa. As I said to my parents before I left, most people are kind and us Brits should learn to be more trusting.

Khartoum is a totally different place to the Sudan I have seen so far. As if to mark this change, our final day cycling into Sudan involved 100 miles, 49 degree heat, 5 flat tyres, me lacerating my finger almost to the bone, and some cycling through the city in the dark in pursuit of our contact in a car…a bit risky at times. When it rains, it poors…..or the desert equivalent of that expression. We arrived at a ‘medical centre’ where we were to stay, covered in a weeks dirt, beard and sweat, and were immediately ushered upstairs to meet the doctor. Next thing we know we were sat on chairs in front of 40 morbidly obese people in fancy dress whilst a compere talked about us in arabic to the group.

Lord knows what was said, but we received ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaahs’ followed by a round of applause before we were ushered out again none the wiser. A very surreal experience….’fat camp’ in Sudan….a bit unexpected given some of the poverty seen in rural parts. I like to think that the compere said something like ‘four weeks ago this lot looked just like you’ (although the scales downstairs tell a different story…with Lindsey actually gaining weight).

In the four days I’ve been here I have been ripped off by a few cabbies (standard), found milkshakes, haggled with everyone, had an incredible Lebanese meal with an Italian we met, played 5-aside football at the British Embassy, found some beer (the first in 3 or 4 weeks…its so good), and last night we were invited round to dinner with the British Senior Political Officer. A more civilised experience than I can remember even in the last few years in London (despite our dishevelled appearence) with yummy food and wine. It was also a great way to discuss Sudan and its politics, power and wealth, the election and the referendum the following year, let alone a million and one other topics we seemed to cover over the evening. We were even allowed to steal their old copies of The Week, The Economist and National Geographic which is a huge result as out thirst for news and reading material has to date remained unquenched. I hope that we may be able to source more contacts from the foreign office as we travel south, as it is by far the most reliable and interesting source of information as we travel.

Our dinner conversation also highlighted that global politics such as the power struggles over Africa between China, muslim countries and the west is so much more interesting than our national news such as ‘the lack of grit during snow storms’, ‘crooked cops’ and the tears and airbrushing of our politicians. We have it so easy in the UK, and yet we are a nation of whingers. We have the best (albeit oldest) underground system, infrastructure, security, practically everything and yet nothing seems sufficient. The British stiff upper lip and resilient desire just to get on with it doesn’t seem so fitting these days. I can only assume that we whinge about these things because of the lack of more serious worries, and therefore should be grateful. In Sudan things such as rubbish, electricity, water, roads, traffic lights, laws, dust (Karthoum) is by no means a guarantee….and that is before you delve into politics, Southern Sudan and Darfur.

Anyway, tonight we are playing football at the embassy again and are hoping that at the least we can use the showers afterwards and at the most, the beers afterwards may extend into a soiree of sorts. Then tomorrow we return to our bikes and spend the next week heading for the border of Ethiopia. Having now read up a fair amount of Ethiopia, I am really looking forward to it (and my research into Southern Sudan has informed me its not a good idea). Assured that my helmet will need to be worn throughout to protect me from thrown stones (one of the ladies at dinner last night got beaten round the head with a shoe), I am now looking forward to Ethiopia, the hills (I’m becoming a sadistic cyclist), the scenery, the availability of alcohol, greenery, jazz bars we have been told about in Addis, all sorts. It will also be cheaper. Sudan, mostly Khartoum, has been expensive with many things priced the same as UK prices with much of the city relying on imports.

We have cycled almost 1,500 miles so far. I have raised 15% of my total which is brilliant, but keep the donations coming. We are still looking for tickets to a game, further sponsorship, press coverage, anything we can get that might help us reach our totals.

I have now improved my previous two blogs with a video and some photos if you’re interested. Do look at the other guys blogs as well as they’re pretty interesting….oh and Oli Brooms which is really good. The photos and videos should all tie in with some of mine, and are probably a lot better.

Finally, Lindsey, in a bid to raise more money, has decided to shave her head. Admittedly when she looks like she does in this photo I can hardly blame her…although I think she is nuts…and I anticipate tears directly afterwards as I’m not sure she realises what she’ll look like….please go to her page and sponsor her.

I believe we’ll have a story to tell about it soon enough. I can’t wait.

Feel free to comment about my blogs, or pass them onto your friends.

By Giles Barrie

Have you ever given a personal guarantee on a deal, and if so, why?

PGs, as they are known, were a big talking point at ‘An Audience with Paul White’, which I chaired last night.

The Hilton London Metropole event was attended by 200 people and organised by the charity Young Norwood.

White, managing director of property company Frogmore, insisted he learned never to give personal guarantees after hitting trouble in the 1970s.

People who agreed to them in our recent boom did so through ‘arrogance’ and believing their own publicity, White said.

‘If you think you are worth £100m and that the market will keep on going up and up you will do stupid things’, he said.
‘I know people who have everything – their homes, their families’ homes. No deal is worth those types of risks’.

I wonder how many of those risks were down to vanity and reputation pumped up by rich lists.

After all, if all your rivals and most importantly your bank think you are worth £100m it doesn’t seem unreasonable to put a few houses on the line.

But if that £100m is cobbled together from equity in highly leveraged deals that can easily be wiped out, then personal guarantees seem mad.

Banks gain little from them either, because repossessing a few homes will hardly recoup losses on lending they were foolish to make.

It is a message the new breed of property entrepreneurs which will undoubtedly rise from the crash will be well advised to heed.

‘An Audience with Paul White’ was sponsored by Derwent London.

You can see a full account of the evening in the next in our series of ‘1st Friday’ features for younger readers in the April 1 Property Week’.

Have you given personal guarantees? Tell us your views by replying to this blog.

By Mark Rigby

Some performances are more important than others. When you’re Jeff Bridges or Sandra Bullock, you probably know if you’ve pulled it off by the time anyone else sees the result. When you’re one of the 30 men stepping onto the turf at Murrayfield come tea-time on Saturday, all you can be sure of is that you’ll be judged on the next 80 minutes. No hiding place. No chance to cut and re-shoot. Pressure and expectation all around. These are two very different crafts, and two very different types of audience too!

You can bet the baying up in Edinburgh will be lively. Us ‘arrogant’ English are always assured a special welcome and I think it has added spice with this game coming at such a pivotal point in the tournament. Win and England are back in the hunt again – weaknesses will be glossed over as we turn into the final game with a mathematical chance of the Championship. For the ‘Jocks’, a win against England – even if matched with four other losses – creates a memorable and ‘successful’ season. Knife-edge stuff.

In the England camp, I think the people under the most pressure are the coaching staff. As I wrote last week, I’m not seeing any progress and, should we get turned over at Murrayfield, I would seriously be expecting John Wells and Brian Smith to be dusting off their CVs and getting ready ‘to pursue other interests’. The RFU is looking for a new Chief Executive (one for you Mr G?) and they could just as well be widening the recruitment consultant’s brief if we don’t get some attacking click and delivery.

I think Johnno is safe mind you. However, along with some like-minded ‘elder statesmen’ of the game at a Wasps Hall of Fame get together this week, I was baffled by some of this week’s picks. What’s Armitage done to stay ahead of Foden? Is he really sure he’s got the right 9 and 10 combo? And what has Moody done to get the drop down to the bench (oh, apart from leave Leicester for Bath of course – conspiracy theorists of the world unite!)

No, I have to say that I have my concerns. Wiser men than I have pointed out that better England sides have travelled north of the border and come away empty handed. The Scots certainly know how to get more from their 15 than the sum of the parts (I’d still take virtually every England player man for man against his opposite number) and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little anxious. The Stanger stain of 1990 on the memory really is a hard one to shift!

But let’s hope England pull off a performance. That’s what I want both as a supporter and a club Chairman. A strong England is good for rugby and good for us all. If we lose, we – and Wells and Smith in particular – are certainly in the Hurt Locker. I’d take any kind of win – big or low – sorry, couldn’t resist – but I’m calling England by no more than six.

I don’t want to be rude but, in comparison, the other games are very much ‘in supporting roles’. Wales’ trip to Dublin does look quite tasty but with such a polar divide between Ireland’s precision and execution versus Wales’ sloppiness, you have to back the home boys. Wales have not shown a great deal of development. Ireland are back with their tails up. Yes, it’s Ireland by nine for me.

As for Paris, it will be a story of 20 minutes. Best short film, you could say. If France come in with the right big-game attitude and focus, this one is all over inside the first quarter. If not, it may drag on a bit (and we could put it in best foreign film like those ones with the subtitles that are supposed to be interesting but are actually quite tedious). Either way, it’s France to win and I see it being by no less than 15 points.

So, when the ref calls ‘action’, let’s hope we get some. I’m not sure we’ll get anything that counts as ‘big screen entertainment’ at Murrayfield but I suspect it could well challenge the censors!

My calls for this week are:

England to beat Scotland by no more than six

Ireland to beat Wales by nine

France to beat Italy by no less than 15

By Giles Barrie

I have a worldwide scoop – Nick Leslau is singing in this year’s Party Near the Park.

Leading the `Prestburys’ with his new partner Mike Brown, Leslau will be belting out Wild Cherry’s `Play That Funky Music’ at London’s Old Billingsgate on June 3.

The theme for this year is `One-Hit Wonders’, and I went along to see a collection of 2010’s hopefuls at their first get-together at Smithfield’s `Karaoke Box’ last night.

Leslau himself flexed his vocal chords, and the results are promising…

Other big names set to perform are PruPim’s investment doyen Martin Moore, who is set to sing Monty Python’s `I’m a Lumberjack’ with a set of other industry big guns.

Other acts include:

● Henderson singing `Dizzy’

● Mike Slade, David Hunter and the Helicalettes singing `Lady Marmalade

● Welbeck Land on `Land Down Under’

● Top agents Stewart Colderick, David Erwin, David Raven and Phil Marsden performing `Tubthumping’.

The good news is that Party Near the Park, where Property Week is a sponsor, has already sold 56 tables, and is on course for 800-plus attendees.

To book your place, contact anna@switchevents.co.uk

As for me? Well after cross-dressing for PNTP for three of the last four years I am taking a year off. The Barrie family holiday in Scotland coincides with the party, which is during half-term.

But three of Property Week’s rising stars, Jenny Rigby, Hardeep Sandher and Aditi Shah, will be stepping into my shoes as part of a cracking ensemble singing `It’s Raining Men’.

It’s going to be a great night….

By Mark Robinson

It’s not at all like 2006…

I like many other people, have remarked over the last couple of months, that the market feels very much like the last days of the Roman Empire, sorry, 2006 with higher and higher prices being driven by a huge wall of liquidity looking to buy what few assets are available. Clearly a major difference is that this liquidity is equity driven, rather than debt driven, but the effect on pricing is much the same.

However increasingly I am starting to believe that this time it is very different.

If I recall correctly, back in the boom-time mania of 2006 everybody actually believed in what they were doing. Those nice Candy boys genuinely believed that they could pay vastly more than anyone else for prime sites because they could add more value, Modus thought that the UK needed 35 additional non-prime town centre developments, Peter Cummings honestly believed that every tubby middle aged man he was introduced to was a property genius, Gordon thought that he had abolished boom and bust……

What is very different now is the level of open cynicism abounding in our industry.

No one seems to genuinely believe in the current bounce. After a bottle of wine (or two) fund managers will admit that it is clearly quite embarrassing to be buying back assets at a premium of 20-30% over what they sold them for less than 12 months ago, despite rents falling; but they are paid to splash the cash.

One agent described doing deals with them “like clubbing baby seals”.

Other, allegedly more savvy, investors are buying on a momentum trade, knowing/hoping, that they are clever enough to get the hell out of Dodge before the next inevitable correction.

However, should there be a double dip any time soon, the Nuremberg defence of “I was only obeying orders” or if “I don’t do it someone else will”, will ring doubly hollow and as Warren Buffet would put it, we really will see some horrible sights/sites as the tide goes back out.

By Roger Southam

The fragile state of the economy is leaving everyone guessing on whether we will get a double dip recession or whether there will be a slow steady rise back from the abyss. Whatever happens, every economist will be claiming they were right – because they always do!

However this makes it very tough for the public to know what to do on buying, selling and renting. There are many hours being spent in institutions and developers contemplating the creation of a workable and sustainable private rented sector.

Now your initial reaction might be there is one. However, what we currently have is a very amateur, ‘kitchen table’ industry dominated by small landlords and a huge diversity of ownership. There are one or two exceptions such as Dorrington and Grainger but, by and large, residential rented property has never become an investment class in the way all other areas of property have.

So we have the prospect of dedicated buildings owned by pension funds and let out to the private rented sector. The needs and requirements will be different in terms of making sure they can extract a reasonable return on investment. But the biggest handicap is the wealth of legislation and the constraints imposed by conflicting legislation such as health and safety, employment and company law aside from the property laws.

So we have the prospect of an exciting 2010 in seeing what transpires and the hope that licensing and regulation can be enacted to replace the reams of legislation.

By Dickon Broadhurst

The Sudan Egypt border is bigger than simply the border between two nations, it represents the change from a mostly Arab and muslim Egypt to a country that is really an amalgamation of black Africa and the arab Middle East, both Muslim and Christian.

Ferry under the stars

The boat trip along Lake Nasa or Nubia represents a definite high point of my trip so far. Ignoring the ridiculous border bureaucracy at both ends combined with the frantic non-sensical African way of doing things, sleeping on the top deck of the dinky boat in the warm air under the stars crammed in amongst Arab and African traders, travellers, migrants, workers and a few travellers like us was a great experience. This Disney-like experience was only marred by the most degraded overflowing loo facilities I have ever encountered, where you are as likely to end up throwing up as well simply by force of smell. I departed resolute that with that barrier overcome I can do pretty much anything. Either that or I am slowly edging towards vagrant status. I made a mental note that my gung ho attitude to local water and food also has its unfortunate repercussions that manifested themselves on this particular boat journey.

George Michael, Michael Jackson, Boy Band....who knows, but its not good

I thought you might be amused by the photo here. My sensitivity to the sun thanks to my malaria pills combined with intense heat means that this was my current get-up. I look like a combination of George Michael in WHAM, Michael Jackson (one sock), a gangster (hanky tied round my leg representing my cru) and probably not very heterosexual. I can’t imagine what the locals made of me.

Despite its reported problems, Sudan is a lovely place. Admittedly, visually all I have been graced with is more sand, more rocks and more desert with the odd glimpse of the Nile…and life. Nonetheless, the people more than make up for it. We represent a curiosity, and the Sudanese have the cordial habit of coming over to greet you, having a short exchange and then leaving you to your own devices. Its so refreshing. The Sudanese would be masters of coffee machine conversation in an office. Many of the people have been well travelled in Europe and the Middle East either through politics, business or study which is pretty interesting. The cynic in me thinks that, given that many of the men wear the white muslim robes and hat, being seen to discuss your travels and business as well as flex your linguistic abilities with passing foreigners is an effective way of reminding those around you of your status, but I’m probably wrong. Either way, the refreshing good nature of the Sudanese is slowly knocking the British reserved and stand offish nature out of me. I anticipate that this will return in Ethiopia as I am informed that the constant begging and stone throwing (a consequence of previous Western aid policies) will bring the true evil in me. A Swiss guy we passed showed us the gash on his leg as a result of a large stone being thrown. Rumour has it that a previous Brit in Ethiopia adopted the policy of waving money and then clouting anyone who came close. I like to think that I have more tact than that so have invested in a huge bag of sweets that should act as a diversion while we make our getaway. Lets hope they are happy to accept sweets from strangers.

Lindsey hitting the hard stuff

....and where shepherds lead, sheep will follow

Departing Wadi Halfa in the north, we have high tailed it 260 miles over four days to Dongola and have discovered the joy of having a tail wind by averaging between 18 and 22 mph (we were as low as 8mph in Egypt)(max speed set by Duncan and Dickon is 35 mph….not that we would care or anything). This is also aided by the new road built by the Chinese (I think) which wasn’t there a year ago. I feel for those who went before us on the dirt tracks. We arrived in Dongola which is a pretty cool place. Everyone seems keen to help, including an English teacher who had an impressive grasp of a lot of anglicisms: ‘this is my gaff’, ‘bog roll’, ‘that’ll be five quid son’ to name a few. It was John’s birthday so we hit the town (??) in search of (gourmet) food (in place of beer…it doesn’t exist in muslim countries). Its safe to say that many chickens heroically gave their lives for a good cause, and the restaurant had nothing left to serve us by the end….an achievement I feel.

Blue Door Blue Man

A point of interest is that one western habit we haven’t been willing to drop is that of loo roll. The African method involves a watering can and…..well hands I suppose. You understand our stubborness to conform on this point. To this end, I trawled the streets in search of the marvel of modern civilisation…..no dice! My eyes caught a glimpse of both nappies and tampax and my mind wondered….but fear not, I managed to track down some Kleenex. ‘Bog roll’ does not exist in Dongola.

Duncan in the sun

So I managed to get out the football that my charity gave me and start a game with some of the locals. The presence of a football had the not unwelcome consequence of making us both the centre of attention and very popular. If I’m honest, we started with cricket for the sake of Ollie Broom, but moved to football for the obvious reasons that everyone knows how to play. I was reminded why I’m not an avid football fan saving my enthusiasm for international games not because there wasn’t much football at school or that I’ve never been to a game, but simply because I’m useless with my feet. Each time a 12 year old Sudanese kid beats me (many times) I am reminded of this unfortunate inadequacy and curse the Gods for making me this way. Oh for a genie in a bottle to provide me with gifted football prowess. Anyway, it was good to get involved with the locals and we have discussed a plan of trying to play in as many places as we can.
By the way, through the money raised so far, I have been able to provide an ITV programme called ‘Men Brewing Badly’ (with Neil Morrisey to be aired in June) with 100 footballs which they will distribute to those that need them during their travels in southern Africa which is great (and part of the money will go to worthy causes as well) so thanks for all your help. I am also hoping to provide lots of footballs to a charity called ‘Ticket To Ride’ based down in Cape Town which helps kids in the various slums in the area with teaching, sport and arts and crafts which is really cool, so keep the sponsorship coming.

As I write this (in my notebook) I am lying in my sleeping bag under the stars in the middle of the desert. We were priviledged to witness the sun and full moon rise in impressive unison at opposite ends of the horizon. Both seemingly perfect spheres, they dissappeared and appeared as if my perfect design, as told in children’s fairtale stories. I imagine that only in the flat desert such as this that such sights are possible. The sun cast an incredible orange and red across the sky for a good hour, encouraging us to continue cycling into the night singing Blue Moon and Moon River much like the sirens of The Odyssey (see video). I would say that ‘red sky at night is the shepherds delight’, but then I’m in the damn desert, so damn hot and damn sunny is bit of a foregone conclusion. Anyway, I’ve learnt to take photos at night, so have included a few.

Dinner preparation

Whats that...

...is it a ghost

Goodnight Lindsey

By Claer Barrett

So-called independent financial advisers have been given a roasting in the press this week – and most of my contacts in the property world are secretly rubbing their hands with glee.

Why? They believe the ‘independent’ credentials of IFAs are compromised by the commission they receive when recommending certain investments.

Bricks and mortar property funds (shorthand for authorised property unit trusts and investment companies) are a case in point. Could the fact that IFAs receive commission for selling them explain their huge popularity with the man on the street?

Retail investors ploughed £511m into property funds in December.

This beat November’s record property inflow of £417m hands down, according to figures released earlier this month by the Investment Management Association.

Sure, the commercial property market is recovering – but are these funds Continue reading »

By Mark Rigby

We’re all familiar with this theory, but, talking purely rugby, I can assure you it’s no theory – it’s fact. Possession counts for nothing. Territory, nothing. It’s points that win you matches and, to score points, its all about execution – making and taking your chances.

The ‘stat’ boys can shower a load of numbers around about the time England spent holding the ball, how many tackles they made, how many more the Irish made but, cliché time I’m afraid, the scoreboard never lies. Ireland were mean, professional, efficient and ruthless in taking points. England were not. Story of the game in a nutshell.

What worries me more is progression. A lot of us have been pondering this for a while. Is this England side actually building towards anything? Are there signs of progress? We have all heard Johnno talking about ‘needing time’ and Andy Robinson before him was a broken record on that subject. The trouble is I’m not seeing any development. Worse still, I’m not seeing a game plan either – and neither were those around me on Saturday as we watched the Twickenham game up in Leeds ahead of our Wasps fixture.

In 2003, there was a real sense of England reaching the pinnacle of that side’s journey. For two to three years, those players and that staff had been building. You could see it happening, feel the progress and, ultimately, there was a real sense that that World Cup was the moment for the side. Destined but worked for – and achieved. I’m not getting that with this England side so the only conclusion that’s left is that something has to change, whether on or off the pitch.

Let me also say a word about the players so that we can be clear about their preparedness for the game. Today, England-contracted players are exceptionally well looked after. They get plenty of rest, they get outstanding medical and fitness support, and they have plenty of time with the England coaching set up away from the clubs. From our Wasps squad, many would argue the England players are the best rested of all! They simply aren’t experiencing the weekly biff and grind of the Guinness Premiership and all of its attrition. The clubs are doing a great deal to facilitate the national side and, to cut to the heart of the matter, something is going wrong with the national set up. Results and performances make the argument for you.

All credit to Ireland, however, they played strong rugby, took their chances and minimised mistakes. They are getting streetwise after all!

Over in Cardiff, it was the French victory I predicted (my one from three this week!) and the visitors did it without having to hit top gear. Wales cut their own throats by conceding unnecessary scores and, once again, forcing themselves to play catch-up rugby. You can’t give a side like the French a jump on you like that and expect to get a result. Interestingly, Sean Edwards told me that, of some 27 tries that Wales have conceded in the last 18 months, one third of them have been interceptions. Now, that suggests someone’s trying to force the pace too hard and that’s what Wales paid the price for last Friday.

As for Rome, well I called a very tight win for the Scots and this fixture was always going to be in the balance. Well done to the Azzuri. They did the job and came away with a win few would argue their hard work didn’t merit.

I tell you what – and to borrow a phrase from an old friend – it’s going to be one hell of a humdinger at Murrayfield next time out!

Strike rate: 5 from 9 – it’s tougher this year!

By Giles Barrie

Come on Qataris and Candys – settle your differences today.

I say today because Qatari Diar and Christian Candy’s CPC Group are going into a one-day mediation session this morning that could prevent their Chelsea Barracks dispute going to court.

And about time, too.

Last week’s Sunday Times revelations about the full detail of Prince Charles’s intervention at the Barracks are only the start of the potential embarrassment for the State of Qatar.

To recap, Qatari Diar and CPC Group teamed up to pay £959m for the Chelsea Barracks site at the peak of the boom.

Qatari Diar then bought CPC Group out, retaining Candy’s company as development manager for the Rogers Stirk Harbour-designed scheme.

Then well-heeled local residents started to revolt – and there is a suspicion that this was as much about new affordable housing on the site as about its design – and the Prince stepped in.

In a letter sent last March to Prime Minister of Qatar and Qatari Diar chairman Sheikh Hamad bin Jassim, the Prince confessed that his `heart sank’ when he saw the scheme.

Just before the project was due to go before Westminster planners the Qataris withdrew the scheme, leading to CPC’s claim for £81m due to alleged `unilateral and wrongful’ breach of contract.

Which brings us back to today’s mediation.

Speaking to top London planning experts last night, I was told there was a 70-30% chance that the original modernist Chelsea Barracks scheme would have been approved.

Experts say it was a high-quality design, and it would have been very hard to refuse on aesthetic grounds alone.

Likewise Mayor for London Boris Johnson, despite some misgivings, was unlikely to have been able to overrule a consent just because it wasn’t his cup of tea.

I understand there is a clause in the original contract which allows the Qataris to settle any such dispute with CPC at a cost of £69m, which CPC would also have to accept.

That would be one answer: the alternative for the Qataris to tough it out and go to court on May 17-21.

They would be mad to do this, not just because they would have a real battle on their hands, but because of the wider reputation of Qatar in the UK.

What does Qatar want? To be associated with visionary new designs which I understand will be unveiled shortly after Westminster elections on May 6?

Or to be the subject of a sorry court case that will embarrass both the Prince of Wales and the Mayor for London at about the same time?