One day in Davos: networking on overdrive, and even the mighty must queue

Brace yourself. The next 600 words or so will be accompanied by the clang of blatant and unashamed name-dropping. I was at Davos ...

Brace yourself, dear reader. The next 600 words or so will be accompanied by the clang of blatant and unashamed name-dropping. I was at the World Economic Forum’s annual meeting in Davos last week.

I know Davos polarises opinion, mainly between those who go and those who don’t.

If you’re one of the former, it’s a unique mind-expanding experience and an unequalled networking opportunity. For the rest, it’s a useless talking shop, all hot air in a cold climate.

I understand the doubters, but any lingering scepticism was dispelled on day one in the breakfast room of my extortionately overpriced hotel. It’s not often you get the chance for an impromptu chat over coffee with Nouriel Roubini, the “Doctor Doom” economist who predicted the global financial crisis. He seemed rather more optimistic about things.

Next I shared a snow-buggy with Gerald Lawless, the Jumeirah chief executive, on our way to the congress centre where he was to talk about the marine environment. He was worried he might be cast as the fall guy for Big Leisure, but in the end he won them over with his knowledge of the migratory habits of turtles.

Mission number one at the congress centre was to find the Emirati delegation, which was not difficult. There, prominently installed in one of the main thoroughfare cafes, was a fair sprinkling of the UAE elite.

“I am Mohammed Al Gargawi”, he said, with a finger-breaking handshake. As if I didn’t know. His charming wife, Mona Al Mari, was there too. All the buzz was about the Iranian president, Hussain Rouhani.

After a quick chat with my old pal Lionel Barber, editor of the Financial Times, I headed off to hear Mohamed Al Abaar, chairman of Emaar, speak candidly of the problems of the Arab world in a “Chatham House” session. Unfortunately the rules prevent me from reporting.

Then on to an evening event, in one of the big hotels along the Davos Promenade. The temperature was dropping now, around minus 5, so I was glad of the hearty man-hug I got from Sir Richard Branson, an old sparring partner.

“We must get a drink later,” he said as we parted in the street swapping mobile numbers, but the schedule proved impossible. I’m on a promise for his trip to Abu Dhabi next month.

Tony Blair was positively glowing (must have been the altitude) at a reception organised by JP Morgan, the investment bank that pays him, but declined to chat. Maybe he was keener to talk to Mark Carney, the governor of the Bank of England, which is understandable.

Mr Carney, on the other hand, was absolutely everywhere, and found time to chit-chat with journalists, even about trivia like his remarkable resemblance to the American actor George Clooney. “Not the first time I’ve heard that,” he quipped modestly.

Lord Mandelson, the former British minister, was also convivial later on. He slipped into a discreet little restaurant with a friend, popped over to my table to say hello, adding: “I’m escaping a boring dinner with a crowd of bankers, don’t tell anybody.” Your secret is safe with me, Peter.

Then a nightcap at the Belvedere hotel, the epicentre of the Davos experience. There were so many late-night receptions going on that the queue to get in was long, and cold. “What’s the point of being a master of the universe if you have to line up?” joked an investment banker, whose name I promised not to reveal.

Then, after a trudge through the snow to my Burj Al Arab-priced accommodation, came blessed sleep. And day two.