Martin Vander Weyer

If you have a long-lost Continental lover, you have a little under six months to arrange the perfect reunion under the clock at St Pancras on 14 November. That is the date when Eurostar will commence its new service along the full length of what is now called High Speed 1, the much-troubled fast link to the Channel Tunnel. Most importantly, it’s the day Eurostar trains will cease to arrive at Waterloo, and instead make their way from Ebbsfleet under the Thames and across east London to Stratford, and at last to the refurbished Victorian terminus on Euston Road.

The Business section of this week's Spectator includes a fascinating interview with Sir Michael Bishop, founder-boss of the airline BMI. The interview is, in two respects, an example of the kind of civility and discretion that many readers, having just heard or read the story of Lord Browne's sad downfall, may feel has disappeared from modern journalism. First, our interview was conducted a few days before BMI's formal annual profit announcement: Sir Michael could not give any hint of the actual profit figure (other than that it would demonstrate positive progress) and Judi could not press him to say more; it would have been a flagrant breach of corporate etiquette on both sides.

Spring sunshine encourages us all to browse estate agents’ windows. This week’s featured property, Dumfries House, looks at first glance like a rare example of value for money in an overheated market. This exquisite mid-18th-century mansion designed by Robert and John Adam comes with 1,940 acres — yet for the same price, £6.75 million, from the same agent, Savills, you could buy nothing more than a five-bedroomed townhouse with a 30ft garden in Pelham Crescent, South Kensington. There are, however, some drawbacks to Dumfries House, leaving aside the obvious one that it’s nowhere near Dumfries, so your removal van may never find it.

To Armoury House, headquarters of the Honourable Artillery Company, for lunch with the recruiting officer — not with a view to joining up, though the PT would do me good, but to inspect the morale of this ancient City institution and inquire how it is adjusting to the pressures of the modern world, military and financial. The HAC is both a serious territorial regiment, specialising in ‘surveillance and target acquisition’, and a rather good club with a beautiful cricket pitch — an oasis of the old City, walled in on three sides by anonymous new blocks.

By far the stickiest moment of my journalistic career was the time I interviewed a foul-tempered Michael Howard on his battlebus between Bristol and Cardiff during the 2004 European elections. But I’m sure I would have fared worse, much worse, if I had ever attempted to cross-question Gordon Brown. As it is, I’ve never even stood close to him: the only time he invited me to Downing Street — for a charity reception of which he was the nominal host — I accepted promptly, only to receive a photocopied letter telling me the event was oversubscribed and my invitation withdrawn. I’m sure this curt snub had nothing to do with Brown himself, but it seemed somehow in character.

Peter Hain says two thirds of City bonuses should be redirected to charity, or employers who dish them out should face tax penalties. David Cameron is trying to find a formula to suggest he disapproves of City greed while signalling that the City need fear no tax-grab from him. Those who find the disparity between bankers’ pay and everyone else’s morally repugnant, or at least uncomfortable, often also cast doubt on the ‘trickledown’ theory — that the wider economy benefits efficiently from the lavish spending of the lucky few. Such sceptics should consider the parable of the Chelsea nanny.

It is exactly 20 years next week since British Airways was privatised. Arguably, it was the most successful of all the Thatcher-era privatisations. Under the redoubtable Lord King and his marketing-wizard sidekick Colin (now also Lord) Marshall, a demoralised, loss-making state enterprise had been turned by five years of vigorous, not to say brutal, leadership into ‘the world’s favourite airline’. The share offer in February 1987 was 32 times oversubscribed, and almost 10 per cent of it was set aside for the airline’s staff, many of whom became proud owners of a stake in a business which seemed to have been miraculously transformed. But that was then, and this is now.

I like to think I helped start the national debate about fairness and executive pay with an article here in May 1993 headlined ‘Snouts in the Trough’, illustrated by Garland with pin-striped porkers helping themselves to huge portions of gravy. Since then, bosses’ pay packets have ballooned — the heat in 1993 was caused by £140,000 salaries for water company chairmen, whereas this year more than 4,000 City bankers are set to receive million-plus bonuses, and one, Driss Ben-Brahim of Goldman Sachs, is said to be collecting (presumably in an armoured truck) £50 million.

As the absurdly coiffed and probably deranged Kim Jong-Il fingers his nuclear button, not even the ballsiest hedge fund manager would contemplate investing in the prospect of Korean reunification. But I could name one secretive London investor who took a big punt back in the 1980s, buying a bundle of North Korean government debt at a tiny percentage of its nominal value on the off-chance that it will one day be redeemed at par by a united Korean treasury. I guess he’s going to have to hold on for a few years yet. It wasn’t such a mad idea, though. In the days when I was a regular visitor to Seoul, everyone I met there believed as an article of faith that the heavily militarised border along the 38th parallel would one day melt away.

Can there be a middle-aged man in Britain whose heart did not beat a little faster last week at the news that Hornby has expressed an interest in acquiring Airfix? This would be a merger that might have been dreamed up in a 1960s toy cupboard. Ailing Airfix is owned by Humbrol, which makes the little pots of enamel paint we used to use on our Airfix model aeroplanes, and which also produces Plasticine. Hornby is the great model railway company that also happens to make Scalextric cars. To complete the set, all we need is a deal-structure modelled in Meccano (also originally a Hornby product) by a suave young investment banker called Action Man (b. 1966). But can Airfix survive at all?

For the first time in my life I had to call an ambulance, because my mother was suffering from chest pains. It was a fascinating episode: so much so that my mother, when she was feeling a little better, accused me of actually enjoying it. The reality of Monday morning in a south London A&E department — within 25 minutes of the 999 call she was in the recovery room at St George’s, Tooting — may lack the intensity of ER and offer no hint of the tangle of doomed doctor-nurse-paramedic relationships that afflicts Holby City, but it gives you plenty to think about.