The Hedge Fund Managers Tale

When I was a child, I dreamed of childish things. Being a merchant of Venice or somewhere closer to home. The spectre of climate change was always playing upon the e-news and in my mind, so I decide then and where to create a fund of resource to enable the replant or build of hedges to promote biodiversity and other wildlife betterment.

So that when I am grandi and I am become a fully qualified hedge fund manager, then am I happy and full of purposeful endeavour. I collected the waste money, as all people went sans contact and the paper and coins became an overwhelming mystery. Of course, the coinage was still useful for coffee machines and putting in supermarket trolley slot place, also rolling, spinning and flipping when decisions are too balanced. But the paper stuff was without and of no consequence. So, make the best of a bad, I decided to collect all paper and build it in the hedges.

I grew taller and balanced the coins in a high tower laughing until they fell. I made the paper notes to line up with their edges in perfect order and they lay flat in my hand. Each and every counting counted to know its amount was my will.

I sent out the money to do my bidding, neither to reap nor sow, neither build nor throw down, neither decorate nor wipe clean, just to get morer by being there.

So many coins, so many cats.

My making of hedges was without compare. The piles of money paper prevented cattle and sheep from mingling and eating each other’s grass. Also hedge rows are very good for biolife and wild diversity.

The paper money was made to line up in lines and a wind was the problem, so I sat upon them and thought of a solution to the wind blowing away the hedges. Next, I planted honey suckle, wisteria, bougainvillea (in sunny spots) and also those flowers which I can’t remember the name. Ah yes, clematis, both early and late flowering varieties. Whilst I held the paper monies in place, the plants grew up and over, covering them, much to the delight of all creatures of the field and hedge.

My work was never done, and I am exhaust. I travel now in all sincerity to the infernal fountain to ask if a hedge fund manager is a calling of value or just invisible enrichment. That is my grammage.

All the grims agreed that this was a worthy grammage and many soft words of supportment were spoken before they slept in the grassy verge by the way.

By the way what? asked the Sphinx, on reading.

By the way side, at the edge of the road.

Oh.