PA Adviser spends a week in the life of Simon Evan-Cook, fund manager of VT Downing Fox Funds. Week commencing 28 October.
Monday
I begin the week by taking Flash, the spaniel, for a walk. It’s foggy and dark. For me, the dog walk sits between annoying imposition and sanity-and-health-saving godsend. I walk without podcasts, as this is the time when I solve problems and come up with ideas by letting my brain run free. Flash, in contrast, is not allowed to run free, as it’s squirrel season and he’s an idiot.
I drive off to the office, which is on a farm in a small Surrey village. This is a dedicated Downing Fox place, used only by me and my co-manager Alex (Downing’s actual HQ is a 200-people hive of activity overlooking the Thames). It’s a sanctuary where we geek out on all things funds, which, one way or the other, is how we spend most of our days.
Today’s highlight is a manager meeting with Sean Peche, who runs the Ranmore Global Equity fund – one of our largest holdings. Once he’s recovered from the enthusiastic greeting from Flash and Ronnie – Alex’s cavapoo – we grill him on his fund. This has been flying of late, particularly given it’s a value fund in a growth world; there’s much to discuss.
Later Alex and I sit down to formally review our emerging market fund selections. We only hold funds we think can become GOATs (Greatest Of All Time), which means much of our discussion is spent working out how likely that is for each fund pick.
Tuesday
I do listen to podcasts on my drive in. Today it’s The Rest is History covering the French Revolution. As always, I’m mining these things for parallels and lessons that can guide us through today’s world (history doesn’t repeat, but it often rhymes).
Mid-morning I have a call with an adviser who’s interested in recommending the Downing Fox Funds to his clients. Like many of his peers who’ve started using our funds of funds, he’s worried about his holding in an MPS, chiefly the CGT issues it may cause and the concentration risk from its high passive exposure. The call evidently goes well, as later our sales manager confirms we have another convert to the way of the fox.
The rest of the day is beautifully clear of meetings. Some of this I spend rearranging my schedule for Thursday. Arranging and rearranging meetings is the bane of my life (first-world problems), but on this occasion I’m OK with it: Mrs EC has been organising a tenth anniversary celebration for MOREVER; the agency she works for in Brighton, which has domestic logistical implications for me. But she hasn’t added it to our joint diary. This is a rare slip on her part – usually diary cock-ups are my domain – so I’m enjoying this fleeting visit to the moral high ground.
That done, I start the deep-dive analysis on a US equity fund we recently found – Turtle Creek North American Equity – which has some serious GOAT credentials. After a decent couple of manager meetings I’m hopeful, but the point of DD is to find any hidden flaws, so nowadays I automatically temper my natural optimism.
Wednesday
Mid-week Mrs EC and I swap dog-walking and child-wrangling duties and, with the youngest dropped off at school, I head into the office.
My only meeting is a coffee with a fund sales rep. We seek a very particular type of fund manager, and often they run smaller or new funds. These, in my experience, are likely to perform better than the industry stalwarts and are available at a discount too. You can’t find them using data though, and our industry network plays the role scouts do for a Premier League football team.
Afterwards I push on with the Turtle Creek research and finish off my latest quarterly letter to advisers.
Writing takes ages because I start with an interesting, but half-formed idea, then continually research and refine it as I write. The charts take a while too. I want them to be useful for advisers with their clients, so they have to be true, simple and illustrate the point. This letter is about decade-plus market megatrends; I feel many advisers’ CIPs are getting sucked into an end-of-trend trap, and I’m doing my best to explain why.
Thursday
This was supposed to be a day of meetings in London, but due to the fore-mentioned diary pickle, I’m now working from home with a calendar that is exhilaratingly free from prior commitments. So I spend the day crossing items off my never ending to-do list.
In the evening, I head off down to Brighton to join my wife at her agency’s anniversary bash. I’m anxious about this. My politics are basically ‘Centrist Dad’, which puts me slightly left of average at most fund management events. But tonight’s party will a) be full of young media types, b) have a tilt towards the charity sector, and c) be in Brighton. On a relative basis, I fear, this will push me towards the Genghis Khan end of the political spectrum.
So I wear trainers, hoping this will allow me to walk among them unnoticed. This disguise works so far as I ultimately leave the party unharmed, but in a buzzing room filled with bright, exciting young things I still somehow end up spending much of the evening chatting with their accountant.
Friday
Child delivered, I’m back in our barn-based office. The day starts with the weekly call with the wider Downing Fund Manager team. It’s a good way for us all to check in to ensure everything’s working smoothly. Thankfully our chief, Judith MacKenzie, has a no-idiot hiring policy, so team calls are amiable affairs.
Later, Alex and I discuss our non-equity positioning ahead of a bumpy-looking couple of weeks. The UK budget and the US election are looming, and each has the potential to dramatically surprise (positively or negatively). Ultimately we decide these are known unknowables, and that, as we’re cautiously positioned already, there’s no sense in changing now.
Saturday
I play golf with my eldest son, who is already better than me despite having roughly 31 years’ less practice.
In the evening we take our youngest to one of those posh cinemas that serve you burgers while you lounge on their sofas. These are brilliant, although eating a burger in the dark without dropping bits in your lap is basically impossible.
We saw The Wild Robot. My son and I have high hopes as it’s based on a book we loved reading together when he was a kid. It doesn’t disappoint; it’s a beautiful movie. When we get back home Flash is pleased to see us, especially as we’re coated in little pieces of beef and cheese.
Sunday
It’s half term next week, and today I’m driving up north to take the boys to Alton Towers. Partly this is to give Mrs EC and Flash some important mother-dog bonding time, but also – I’m beginning to suspect – because I may be a massive manchild. Still, I am what I am, and Nemesis Reborn is calling. Bring it on!
