The other day I gave a talk to a group of investment bankers. I did what I always do when I’m in front of a business audience: scan the crowd and try to work out how many men there are to every woman. If they are young City of London lawyers, the numbers are usually roughly even, while for senior bankers and financial advisers it can be as bad as one to 20.
On this particular afternoon the ratio was a bit better than usual — about 1:4 — but as I looked around it occurred to me that I was counting the wrong thing. The tiniest minority was not women. It was not even people from ethnic minorities, this being a global conference. It was the over-fifties.
In about 200 bankers I could see only one person who seemed to be my age — and that was the chief executive. As I walked back through the City, I stared at the people going home: a sea of commuters in their twenties, thirties and forties. Only occasionally did I spot a contemporary, sidling past with head down. I briefly got excited when I saw two people who looked about 60, but on closer inspection their brightly coloured anoraks and the suitcases they were wheeling revealed them to be tourists.