Sunday, October 24, 2010
Falling out of thieves
Amused to read about the falling out of thieves currently being aired in some New York courtroom. It seems that banker A wanted to buy company B with lots of dosh borrowed from bank C. Banker D from bank C, no doubt keen to get the deal closed and onto the books so that he could claim his commission, presumably in millions, suggested to banker A that he had better up his price as bank E were closing in. Banker A promptly raised his price and bought company B. He is now whining because it seems that bank E was a figment of banker D's fertile imagination - with the result that banker A paid more than he should have for company B. One hopes he was not silly enough to pay more than company B was worth, just to spite bank E. One wonders whether he was prudent to take such important advice from banker D, clearly an interested party. I suppose one can understand him being a bit cheesed if someone he regarded as a friend takes him to the cleaners in this way. But my heart is not bleeding.
Amused also to find a link between yesterday's Arthurian film and the helmet at Christies (see September 19). According to the catalogue entry, helmets of this sort are depicted on Trajan's column, among heaps of captured Sarmatian armour. These Sarmatians coming from the Sarmatia near the Danube, and being the ones who, in the film, were the knights in shining armour who kept the Saxons at bay at Hadrian's Wall (with the help of the blue painted savages from further north. Including a somewhat dressed Keira Knightley. Now known as the Scotch). So the shining armour was not altogether a figment of the film's history advisor's fertile imagination.
However, careful reading of the Christies catalogue revealed nothing about the state in which the helmet was found, my understanding being that it was found in many pieces big and small. Indeed, just reading the entry would leave one, by default, with the impression that the thing had been found entire. Perhaps buffed up a bit for display. The assistant I asked at the sale room trotted off to inspect the database, which would usually have contained a conservation report which I could probably have carried off to read in the local pub before placing a bid. However, for this item the database said please apply to a certain Miss L D. Which I did, by email, some weeks ago. Not a flicker. To be fair, the catalogue does point out that one ought to get one's own expert to take a peek at the thing before bidding; but I do find it strange that Christies are so economical with the truth in the catalogue entry for an item which ultimately sold for about ten times its estimate at £2.5m or so. Presumably some banker with a bonus to burn.
And today the Arthurian connection continues with a young lady trusty at a certain NT establishment who gloried in the name of Guinevere. But more of that tomorrow.