In between seeing old mates and enjoying tête-à-têtes over whisky, I followed up invitations to see senior banker pals at their swanky corner offices — if only so they could brag about how far they have come in life.
One was particularly keen to show me around his new digs in Broadgate Circle, which is touted as the next best thing for banks after Canary Wharf. Which is just as well too, as his firm signed the lease before the Brexit vote, confident that it would not happen.
The building is brand spanking new, but also cavernous, as I soon discovered. My friend greeted me with all the warmth of someone who has shared many late nights of revelry and confidently started our guided tour. He gesticulated wildly as he showed me around the place, which was interspersed with fine leather sofas and a few peculiar wall hangings he called art.
However, it wasn’t long before I knew he was faking it. When we found ourselves at a dead-end on a floor that was supposed to lead to the trading desks, he confessed sheepishly that we were lost, admitting that this wasn’t the first time he had misled guests.
But he found a way to redeem himself — having memorised the quickest route to the closest bar in the neighbourhood. Drinks, of course, were on him.