So farewell. I’m off. Thirty-three years of writing for TradeWinds will come to an end today. It has been a terrific journey and I am ever grateful to you, the readers, for putting up with me for so long and DN Media for keeping the faith with me and with their publications.
A big birthday coming up has concentrated my mind and convinced me it’s time to end a commitment to produce weekly columns. That’s good for me, but for you too.
News media like other businesses need to constantly refresh and renew if they are to remain creative and successful, so my exit will undoubtedly bring great opportunities for TradeWinds and its readers.
When I started working for this Norwegian-owned publication in 1990, a new weekly English language shipping paper was just a glint in the eye of Kaare Valebrokk, past editor-in-chief of Dagens Naeringsliv.
I was employed at Lloyd’s List, then top dog and riding high on 300 years of history, but the idea of this “little blue” start-up was greatly attractive. Three decades on, TradeWinds is still publishing a paper, Lloyd’s List is not.
The best and worst things that happened to me? The best was literally the enormous privilege of being able to try to influence debates on safety and sub-standard shipping, the rise of China maritime, lack of concrete action at the International Maritime Organization, and certainly the big one most recently: decarbonisation.
The worst time might have been being forced to perform karaoke in a Taipei nightclub in front of the entire Yang Ming Marine board, rarely has so much damage been done to a Lennon and McCartney song.
No, the worst time was being sued for libel once by a shipowner who then upped the ante on our legal defence by filing new charges of criminal conspiracy with a 25-year jail sentence at the end of it.
The silver lining to that episode was the kindness of others in the industry, such as Michael Bodouroglou who assured me over a 10-year period (till the charges were time-barred) that all would be well. And they were.
Talking to Michael of Paragon Shipping for the first time at a TradeWinds conference in Shanghai unearthed some history that we were definitely unaware of. We learned to our surprise that we had been in Newcastle together as students and then realised even more astonishingly that his roommate, Costas, had been dating my girlfriend of the time, simultaneously, unknown to me. It was a strange thing to discover 20 years on.
The worst time might have been being forced to perform karaoke in a Taipei nightclub in front of the entire Yang Ming Marine board
In the shipping industry, the good bro camaraderie (like its bad bro, tax avoidance – [honest that’s a joke]) is legendary and is wonderful. And in the modern world of shipping there are not just bros at the senior level but sisters too: wow, that’s a step forward since the 1990s when you could count the women in high places such as Jean Richards at Fairwind Shipping (now part of the Denholm Group) on one hand.
Another somewhat unexpected thing? Asking Sergei Frank of Sovcomflot at lunch in a Moscow restaurant which composer he most liked. No, not Tchaikovsky but Roger Hodgson of Supertramp.
But while I am buying a last round of metaphoric drinks I should also issue an apology to John Fredriksen’s wife for asking at a shipping reception what it was like to be the great man’s daughter. Yes. OK, we all make mistakes.
So did Valebrokk (RIP). The first Christmas he sent me a whole leg of reindeer, which I found when I entered the office at the International Press Centre on Shoe Lane. The meat had been left for four days next to a steaming hot radiator. He had clearly forgotten I was a vegetarian at the time, but I appreciated the gesture.
So what am I going to do now with the extra time on my hands? I don’t honestly know. There are no shortages of book and film ideas bubbling around in my head or good causes to fight for, coastal trails to be walked or rivers to swim.
But first, some birthday celebrations and a sustained period of creative indolence are called for. Thank you so much for having me.
