January 30 2011
It started as a half-true story that I liked to tell on my blog. The one about my Elvis chair. Eventually I started to believe it. Not that the chair and the bank of TVs don’t actually exist in the BA lounge at Heathrow’s T5; they do for sure. This is the part where if someone else is sitting in either of them I just stand close to them and stare or politely ask them to take one of the many others on offer, as “this is my chair”; usually people are so taken a back that they apologise and move.
It was fine when it was just a story, but, much to my brother’s horror (he never normally travels with me), it’s now become a reality. If I don’t sit even for a minute or two, I start thinking that bad things will happen on my flight. That stupid chair has become to me what the mention of Macbeth is to a luvvie. One more bloody thing to think about at the airport.
Superstitions satisfied, we start the long passage to Peru. With no direct flights we have to stop in Madrid first. It’s so nice to be making this trip with my brother; even though we work together, our roles mean that we barely cross paths once outside our office. We are expecting this to be part adventure and part the final stage in a process we started two and a half years ago towards working with sustainable gold. Currently not available through conventional channels. By working with an NGO from Holland, the very first supply is about to make its way to us and our clients. We are about to follow the trail.