"Lame Duck" MPC stands pat and waits for the new Governor

The calm before Carney's storm?

Last week saw the Bank of England’s Monetary Policy Committee, (MPC), leave base rates unchanged at 0.5 per cent and its Quantitative Easing, (QE), programme left unchanged at £375bn.

This was hardly surprising, given the recent stabilization in UK economic data; better industrial and manufacturing production figures, improved business confidence surveys, higher house prices and new car sales, and no "triple-dip" recession. Add to this the imminent arrival of new Governor Mark Carney - his first meeting will be on 4th July - and there was little prospect of any other outcome.

However, this may well be the calm before the storm as Carney has a reputation for innovation and is truly "new blood" - unusual in that he didn’t rise through the ranks of the Bank.  As head of the Bank of Canada, Mr. Carney became the first major central bank chief to adopt "timeline guidance" when, in 2009, he promised to keep Canada’s benchmark interest rate at 0.25 per cent for a year unless inflation became a problem. The US Federal Reserve subsequently copied this tactic and there is every chance that he will introduce such guidance into the Old Lady’s pronouncements.

I’d expect this change to be announced in August, or September at the latest, and I’d say the chances for further easing measures sit in the balance; depending on economic data developments over the next few weeks.

The Chancellor recently changed the Bank’s mandate so that it can now give more weight to promotion of growth and employment, rather than inflation control, and one would expect Mr Carney to pursue the goal enthusiastically, as presumably he discussed the move with Mr Osborne before accepting his appointment.

If I had to make a call, however, I’d say we will see extension of and improvements to the Funding for Lending Scheme, (FLS), but no further rate cuts or increased QE, as I feel we have finally turned the corner-but it’s certainly a long sweeping bend, rather than a hairpin. Cheap money is finally doing its bit, the Eurozone crisis is contained, and the US recovery is looking increasingly robust. Last Friday’s employment report was very encouraging and US jobless claims for the week ending May 4th continued the good news, coming out at 323,000, the lowest reading since 18th Jan. 2008.

In a further testament to the growing strength of the American recovery, the daily Rasmussen Consumer Index, which measures consumer confidence on a daily basis, rose to 106.2 on May 5th, the highest level since 2007.  The US economic locomotive is finally gathering speed.    

Bank of England. Photograph: Getty Images

Chairman of  Saxo Capital Markets Board

An Honours Graduate from Oxford University, Nick Beecroft has over 30 years of international trading experience within the financial industry, including senior Global Markets roles at Standard Chartered Bank, Deutsche Bank and Citibank. Nick was a member of the Bank of England's Foreign Exchange Joint Standing Committee.

More of his work can be found here.

Qusai Al Shidi/Flickr
Show Hide image

I can’t follow Marie Kondo's advice – even an empty Wotsits packet “sparks joy” in me

I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

I have been brooding lately on the Japanese tidying freak Marie Kondo. (I forgot her name so I typed “Japanese tidying freak” into Google, and it was a great help.) The “Japanese” bit is excusable in this context, and explains a bit, as I gather Japan is more on the case with the whole “being tidy” thing than Britain, but still.

Apart from telling us that we need to take an enormous amount of care, to the point where we perform origami when we fold our underpants, which is pretty much where she lost me, she advises us to throw away anything that does not, when you hold it, “spark joy”. Perhaps I have too much joy in my life. I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

After a while I gave up on this because I was getting a bit too happy with all the memories, so then I thought to myself, about her: “This is someone who isn’t getting laid enough,” and then I decided that was a crude and ungallant thought, and besides, who am I to wag the finger? At least if she invites someone to her bedroom no one is going to run screaming from it, as they would if I invited anyone to my boudoir. (Etym: from the French “bouder”, to sulk. How very apt in my case.) Marie Kondo – should bizarre circumstance ever conspire to bring her to the threshold – would run screaming from the Hovel before she’d even alighted the stairs from the front door.

I contemplate my bedroom. As I write, the cleaning lady is in it. To say that I have to spend half an hour cleaning out empty Wotsits packets, and indeed wotnot, before I let her in there should give you some idea of how shameful it has got. And even then I have to pay her to do so.

A girlfriend who used to be referred to often in these pages, though I think the term should be a rather less flippant one than “girlfriend”, managed to get round my natural messiness problem by inventing a game called “keep or chuck”.

She even made up a theme song for it, to the tune from the old Spiderman TV show. She would show me some object, which was not really rubbish, but usually a book (it may not surprise you to learn that it is the piles of books that cause most of the clutter here), and say, “Keep or chuck?” in the manner of a high-speed game show host. At one point I vacillated and so she then pointed at herself and said, “Keep or chuck?” I got the message.

These days the chances of a woman getting into the bedroom are remote. For one thing, you can’t just walk down the street and whistle for one much as one would hail a cab, although my daughter is often baffled by my ability to attract females, and suspects I have some kind of “mind ray”. Well, if I ever did it’s on the blink now, and not only that – right now, I’m not even particularly bothered that it’s on the blink. Because, for another thing, I would frankly not care to inflict myself upon anyone else at the moment.

It was all a bit of a giggle eight years ago, when I was wheeled out of the family home and left to my own devices. Of course, when I say “a bit of a giggle”, I mean “terrifying and miserable”, but I had rather fewer miles on the clock than I do now, and a man can, I think, get away with a little bit more scampish behaviour, and entertain a few more illusions about the future and his own plausibility as a character, when he is squarely in his mid-forties than when he is approaching, at speed, his middle fifties.

Death has rather a lot to do with it, I suppose. I had not actually seen, or touched, a dead body until I saw, and touched, my own father’s a few weeks ago. That’s what turns an abstract into a concrete reality. You finally put that to one side and gird up your loins – and then bloody David Bowie snuffs it, and you find yourself watching the videos for “Blackstar” and “Lazarus” over and over again, and reach the inescapable conclusion that death is not only incredibly unpleasant, it is also remorseless and very much nearer than you think.

And would you, dear reader, want to be involved with anyone who kept thinking along those lines? I mean, even if he learned how to fold his undercrackers into an upright cylinder, like a napkin at a fancy restaurant, before putting them in his drawer? When he doesn’t even have a drawer?

Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war