Lessons from a Market Sage: The Chronicles of My Father, the Astute Investor
By Alex Langton | 25 January 2024
I have been making notes for years about the strategies, missteps, and foolish, irrational exuberance of my Father. Some of the notes have been pilfered from our oldest brother, Josh, the tech wizard. A lighthearted distraction seems appropriate for the weekend.
Another surprise for the old duffer.
The Strategy of Self-Knowledge: Finding Humor in Investment Enlightenment
In the investing world, where strategies are as diverse as the stocks on the market, my Father stumbled upon a golden nugget of wisdom that seemed to resonate with his very being: "It's about knowing yourself better than the company you have invested in." This was not just a strategy but an epiphany, a moment of clarity in a world often clouded by data and speculation.
Father's journey to this revelation was paved with what he fondly refers to as 'horror stories'. These were not tales of ghosts and goblins but something far more terrifying to an investor: emotional decision-making. He often shared anecdotes of times when he let his heart rule his head in the stock market. "It was like letting a lovesick teenager pilot a jumbo jet," he'd joke, recalling the turbulence of emotions that led to some less-than-stellar investment decisions.
The crux of his transformation lay in learning to detach emotion from the decision-making process. This, he argued, was akin to performing a high-wire act without a safety net โ exhilarating yet fraught with danger if not done with utmost care and concentration.
Interestingly, Father had a particular bone to pick with technical analysis. While many investors swear by it, he viewed it as a Trojan horse for emotions in decision-making. "Technical analysis is like reading tea leaves," he'd quip. "It's more about seeing what you want to see rather than what's actually there." He argued that it plants seeds of emotion, which then sprout into a forest of biases and irrational expectations.
So, he relentlessly cautioned me against leaning too heavily on technical charts and graphs. "Don't get me wrong," he'd say, "it has its place. But treat it like a weather forecast โ helpful but not always accurate."
His advice was often laced with humour, especially when recounting the times he tried to outsmart the market and ended up with his "fat backside exposed", as he so eloquently put it. These were the learning years, where each mistake was a painful yet necessary step towards wisdom.
He'd laugh about these times, but his eyes always showed a glint of seriousness. "The market is a humbling beast," he'd remind me. "It has a way of teaching you lessons you didn't even know you needed to learn."
Father's strategy, then, became one of introspection and self-awareness. He learned to assess not just a stock's potential but also his own responses to its fluctuations. This self-knowledge became his most valuable asset, more valuable than any stock or share.
In a world where investors often search for the next big thing, my father found it in himself. His approach, seasoned with humour and a healthy dose of humility, has been a guiding light in my own investment journey. It's a reminder that sometimes, the best investment one can make is in understanding oneself.
The Forum Follies: Trolls, Trials, and Tribulations
In the digital age, the investment landscape has been augmented by an often-overlooked battlefield: online forums. These virtual Colosseums, where investors and enthusiasts converge, have been a stage for many a dramatic confrontation. My father, a seasoned warrior of these pixelated arenas, has had his fair share of skirmishes with what we affectionately call 'the trolls'.
Eager to rub my father the wrong way, these trolls revelled in the cat-and-mouse battle. To them, it was a game, a chance to poke and prod at a man they saw as an old guard, a relic of a bygone era of investing. But father, oh, he loved the fray. He approached these encounters with a glee that was almost mischievous, relishing each opportunity to parry with wit and wisdom. It was as if he had found a thick bowl of double cream and was determined to lap up every last drop.
But not all were amused by these digital duels. Our mother often stumbled upon these exchanges during her sneaky peeks over his shoulder. To her, this was deeply distressing โ the vitriol, the barbs, the relentless jousting. It pained her to see her husband, whom she saw as a figure of dignity and respect, embroiled in what she viewed as petty squabbles. She begs me not to follow in my Father's footsteps. Nope, thatโs not for me, i promise, and it has not!
Aware of her distress, Father eventually chose to step back from these forum battles. It was a testament to his character, a reflection of his empathy, and perhaps, a sign of his evolving perspective on what truly mattered.
Amidst these tales, I must confess that the recent events with Coral Products have left me shaken. My research led us to feature it as a long-term growth, but it carried risks, and its subsequent collapse has been a bitter pill to swallow. The distress of sharing my research with strangers only to witness such a dramatic downturn is a burden i find hard to articulate. It's a stark reminder of the inherent risks and uncertainties of the investment world.
And then, there's the debacle of SkinBioTherapeutics. A company once seen as a beacon of hope for our retirement funds is now just a shadow of its former self. This week has indeed been a dramatic one, a rollercoaster of emotions and financial upheaval. Chin up, son, it's all part of the game; you will learn from this. Now donโt be hasty, rememberโฆ he quipped.
In these turbulent times, I often wonder how Father has kept his sanity โ or if he truly has. His calm demeanour in the face of market chaos, his ability to find humour in adversity, and his unwavering confidence, even in the most trying of circumstances, sometimes seem almost superhuman. Or perhaps they are the traits of a man who has seen it all, who understands that the market, much like life, is a cycle of ups and downs.
Through it all, the Father remains my anchor, my guiding light in the often murky waters of investment. His wisdom, his patience, and his ability to find joy in the journey rather than just the destination are lessons i hold close to my heart. In a world that often feels like it's spinning out of control, he is my steadying force โ a reminder that even in chaos, there is a method, a lesson, and a story worth telling.
As I sift through the annals of my Father's investing escapades, I'm often struck by a blend of awe and a smidgen of envy. This is a man who, with the wisdom of a seasoned chess grandmaster, navigated the tumultuous seas of the stock market, always emerging not just unscathed but often triumphant. His tales are not just chronicles of financial success; they are sagas of wit, prudence, and the occasional stroke of genius, peppered with the kind of advice that could only come from a lifetime of experience (and a fair bit of trial and error).
In the early days, my father was somewhat of an adventurer in the realm of investments, drawn to small, fledgling companies like a moth to a flame. He'd regale me with stories of these early forays, often with a rueful chuckle, admitting to the occasional misstep.
Despite these setbacks, he had a knack for remaining as liquid as a gymnast during every market meltdown since the great crash of '87. His strategy was akin to a tailor in Savile Row โ cutting his cloth meticulously to suit the risks he perceived in any given stock. "You must always have an exit strategy," he'd advise, "lest you find yourself in a sartorial disaster of financial proportions."
But here's where his real genius lay: in not succumbing to the lemming-like panic that grips the hearts of many investors. While others were hurtling towards the proverbial cliff, Father was the stoic observer, a lighthouse in a storm. He had an almost uncanny ability to remain detached, a quality that allowed him not to cement paper losses into real ones. โDonโt allow other investors to panic to pull you over the cliff.โ
In fact, he often used others' irrational behaviour to his advantage. "There's opportunity in madness," he'd quip, usually followed by a story of how he'd swooped in to pick up undervalued stocks during a market frenzy, much like a shrewd fox amidst a henhouse ruckus. He never claimed to get it right all the time.
From him, I learned the value of patience and the art of strategic waiting. "Investing," he'd say, "is not just about the stocks you choose; it's also about the times you choose to do absolutely nothing." It was a lesson in restraint that many of his contemporaries failed to heed, often to their detriment.
Looking back, i realise that these lessons were about more than just investing; they were about life. Through his stories, I learned about risk and reward, patience and timing, and the importance of keeping a cool head when all around you are losing theirs.
In his twilight years (this will trigger him), as he sits back in his armchair, a contented smile playing on his lips, I can't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude, not just for the financial wisdom he's imparted, but for the humour, the fondness, and the life lessons that came along with it. My Father, the astute investor, has been my greatest teacher โ in markets and life.
You Build Over Time: The Unlikely Bonds
In the rich tapestry of my father's life, one of the most vibrant threads has been his ability to forge friendships in the most unlikely of scenarios. He often says, with a twinkle in his eye, that friendships have a way of popping up like daisies in a field โ Bullshit, right! The daisies i mean! Unexpectedly but most pleasantly. These bonds, he believes, are not just social connections; they are affirmations of goodwill from God, aligning perfectly with his deep-seated Christian beliefs.
One such friendship is with Paul B. Father recounts how their paths crossed in the most serendipitous of ways and how their mutual interest in the stock market and a shared sense of humour laid the foundation for a friendship built on a respectful battle of bull v bear duel on the forums and became friends that have withstood the test of time. With his encyclopedic knowledge of the markets and wit as sharp as a tack, Paul became a friend and a confidant. He misses the monthly meeting in spinning fields where they would share a few ales and good food.
Then thereโs Mike Mc, a character as colourful as they come. Father often chuckles when he talks about M Mc's unorthodox approach to investing, giving his wealth, likening it to a jazz musician improvising a melody โ unpredictable but often surprisingly harmonious. Father seems proud as though he gave birth to him, but he is older, and Father is, well, a bloke, right? I think his pride stems from Mike's Royal Marine years, and Father is a mad patriot. I suspect Mike's business acumen and Powder Monkey have something to do with it. Good ales, thatโs it.
Barry O's friendship with my father is another tale that brings a smile to our faces. Described as 'salt of the earth', Barry's down-to-earth nature has been a constant in father's life. The fact that Barry hails from the Midlands, not far from where some of my Father's brothers and sisters live, only adds to their camaraderie. "They're not far away enough," Father jests about his siblings, but itโs a different story with Barry โ a testament to their unique bond even though they have never met. An event Father is keen to remedy.
Chris G, who is also known as the plastic scouser, is frequently mentioned in stories told. Chris has a distinct personality and background that have shaped their character in unique ways. Unfortunately, Chris has a habit of calling several times a day and often interrupts their conversations with nonsense. Father would jokingly suggest that Chris' wife had a camera trained on him, as his phone would ring seconds after they exchanged a few lines. Itโs uncanny!
But perhaps the most amusing of all these friendships is with Chud. Father recounts with glee the time they played a round of golf โ Father with a snapped bicep, no less โ and how he managed to give Chud a thrashing on his own turf. The incident has since become a running joke, with Chud affectionately accusing my father of being a 'bandit'. The story never fails to elicit hearty laughs, a vivid illustration of the joy and light-heartedness these friendships bring Father's life.
The story of Chud's encounter with a garden water fountain has been etched into the annals of our family's lore. It is often resurrected at gatherings to the sound of unrestrained laughter. It was one of those moments that, while perhaps undignified in the experience, transformed into a cherished memory woven with the threads of humour and camaraderie.
It all started with a simple text message, an unassuming notification on my Father's phone that opened to reveal a series of photographs. There was Chud, in all his glory, doing battle with a water fountain. The images captured him in various stages of this unintentional duel โ from the initial, overconfident approach to the moment of watery betrayal, where the fountain seemed to claim victory over his balance and composure as Chud continued to do battle with the shrubs and the flowerbed.
The sight of Chud, drenched and bewildered, his bumps and bruises testament to his skirmish with the seemingly innocuous fountain, sent waves of laughter through our home. The scenario was made all the more hilarious by the backstory involving a generous number of Powder Monkey Brews, a potent concoction that Father had sent over to Chud. "Lethal, just how Father likes them," Father would say with a mischievous grin, well aware of the brews' growing reputation.
Oh, the delicious irony of Chud's 'sweet' revenge โ a tale that could make even the stiffest upper lip curl into a smirk. It seems Chud, in a stroke of genius or perhaps devilish cunning, presented Father with a case of Henry Westerns, a cider potent enough to give even the hardiest of drinkers pause. At 9% ABV, it's not your garden-variety tipple, but then again, Father isn't your garden-variety manโhis epic travels around Belgium, where 11% ABV is the norm was ain to drinking Yorkshire tea.
Father, whose affection for freebies overrode his usual disdain for cider, embarked on a merry jaunt through the better part of the case. Nine bottles deep, no less! Now, picture the scene: Father, emboldened by the fiery nectar, trying to juggle a curry, a newfound love affair with a flaming red laptop (all of 48 hours old), and a mouse pad that might as well have been a Rubik's cube at this point.
The climax, as dramatic as any Shakespearean tragedy, involved Father, our erstwhile composed patriarch, unleashing his fury upon the poor, unsuspecting laptop. A spectacle of such volcanic proportions that it left Mother and I and Josh and Luke in a state of shock โ for in the annals of family history, Father blowing his top was as rare as a truthful politician.
You might wonder what caused the eruption. Curry sauce on his finger turned the mouse into a maze in darkness, with no moonlight.
The morning after, as reality dawned with no hangover evident, Father's frantic search for the laptop ended in a tableau worthy of a Caravaggio painting. Mother, the silent observer, handed over the remnants of the laptop, now bearing a striking resemblance to a relic from a post-apocalyptic world. The look of horror that dawned on Father's face was something to be etched in memory forever.
In a twist befitting the best dark comedies, Father, in a daze of remorse and realisation, sends Chud a thank-you text complete with photographic evidence of the cider-fueled carnage. One can only imagine Chud's reaction โ a mix of horror and glee, perhaps?
Through these relationships, my Father has taught me an invaluable lesson: cherish your friends, for they are the unsung heroes in the journey of life. In his stories, each friend plays a role, not just as a character in a tale, but as a pillar in a life well-lived. They are reminders that amidst the highs and lows of the stock market and the unpredictability of life, the true wealth lies in the friendships we build and nurture over time.
As Father often says, with a knowing smile, "In the end, itโs not just the stocks you pick, but the friends you make along the way."
I do hope i lifted the mood. And be thankful the story is not about his rock festival frolic, they are altogether different.