[As told to Erik Britton] It has come to my attention that some self-styled ‘economists’ are of the opinion that I am redundant. That I, Homo economicus, the embodiment of economic rationalism, have served my purpose, if indeed I was ever fit for that purpose. That positive economics, a branch of positive science which I personify, should be ditched, along with the assumption of rational behaviour on the part of the human species. Hard to imagine, I know; but if

The streets of Paris appeared to be free from locals last week. That’s not necessarily unusual in August. The French are famous for enjoying Les Grandes Vacances with extended trips out of the city. But this year, there was the added factor of the Olympics: with concerns about expensive ticket prices, packed transport and even safety, around half of Parisians in one poll said they would leave the city as the famous flame arrived. However, as the competition got under

I frequently moan about low levels of investment in the UK. It has become a bugbear of mine. Looking across the whole of the G7, the UK has had the lowest investment-to-GDP-ratio in 28 of the past 42 years. And on those odd occasions when it has not been bottom of the G7 investment league table, it has been close. I blogged about this subject as recently as February this year, when I contrasted my willingness to extend my mortgage

‘“When the rockets go up, who cares where they come down, That’s not my department,” said Wernher von Braun.’ [1] These lyrics from the US mathematician and satirist Tom Lehrer’s highly amusing song may not immediately get you thinking of economics, but there are similarities between the disinterested mental shrug given by Lehrer’s von Braun and the way economists ply their trade. Looking back to when I started my economics degree, one of the first things I remember learning was

The Fathom team is just back from our annual getaway, which we spent in Hinwick House – a stately home on the Northants/Bedfordshire border that offers a mish-mash of 18th-century architecture, antique memorabilia of various vintages, stuffed animals, expensive-looking silverware and vases, an in-tune grand piano, and a truly surprising number of bugles in all sizes. The décor suggests a storied past full of foxhunts, servants and white-tie dinners – think Bridgerton. Most of those stories are however buried in

It's not easy to write a coherent blog post in 39 degrees. The heat sends my mind wandering, jumping between the needs of physical hydration and vaporising ideas, resurfacing deeper reflections and vulnerabilities. One slightly contorted train of thought, however, keeps recurring. Summer has always been a period of socialisation, bringing anxiety about changing social circles and fitting in. Moving to the UK at 16 and later to Geneva turbo-charged these anxieties, forcing me to confront them head-on. These experiences,

For those who aren’t familiar, at Thinks and Drinks Fathom invites friends and clients to join us at a bar to socialise and discuss issues shaping the economy. Towards the end, there were three of us left with an already opened bottle of wine, and we were faced with the decision of whether to go back home, or stay to “get our money’s worth”. The day after, I realised that I had probably been subject to the sunk cost fallacy,

The invitation from my dear friend Arnaud — tireless partner during my Poland adventures — to his second residence in Corsica was too good to be rejected. Not only because I really needed a vacation after some turbulent weeks personally, but also due to the irresistible appeal of visiting a place that, although close geographically, was a total mystery to me. So, here I am to report the outcome of this extremely pleasant trip. Trust me: you are gonna like

Have you ever told a friend you loved their new haircut when, in reality, you didn't? Or perhaps you've excused yourself from a social event by claiming you had a prior commitment? Let’s face it, we all tell the occasional fib. Lying, it seems, is an integral part of human interaction: in fact, research suggests we tell one or two lies on average a day. While some lies are harmless, others can have significant consequences, particularly in the realm of

It is exactly a year since we were handed the keys to our first house, and my main memory of the last twelve months is the do-it-yourself spree that ensued. I must confess that I was never much of a DIY type, and sometimes I miss the days of renting when worrying about something that needed fixing ended with a quick phone call to the landlord. But last June I mortgaged my life for a heap of bricks and mortar,