I’ve had to keep a close eye on what’s been going on so I can write this column. And one thing I have been monitoring – excessively so according to my wife, AKA Annie Dotal because her evidence is always right – is EUR/GBP.
The reason is that I’m selling my house in France and the exchange rate is the source of all the profit I have in it. I think I’m prudently managing my family’s meagre wealth. But my two sprogs share their mother’s not very flattering views – possibly because I can’t get Reuters to work on my new laptop and have to use my wife’s and therefore they can’t spend their holiday playing computer games, sending instant messages, or whatever it is they do.
As far as they are concerned, the squiggly lines I watch on “Rooters” are meaningless. This opinion was reinforced after I bought some of my hedge back at 0.8800, only for my daughter to tell me that it was obviously going down. At the time of writing, I‘m about to hit a 0.8675 bid. My wife is now telling the sprogs, through gritted teeth, that the old spot-dealers’ motto still holds true: “Once a jub, always a jub.”