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IIRF: Ave Atque Vale
This being my very last article for Investor Relations magazine as chairwoman of the International Investor Relations Federation...
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IIRF: The Italian Job
Poor Queen Victoria eats crow at Christmas. That was the mnemonic device I learned as a child to remember the seven hills of Rome...
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Life After IR
It is my firm conviction, to paraphrase the Great Bard of Stratford on Avon, that some are born to investor relations, some...
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No Rest for the Weary
If you have ever felt that your life was not your own because of the demands of this profession we serve, please raise your hand...
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Of Kings and Communicators
The king is dead! Long live the king! I remember reading these lines in history class at school. Their lesson was that in a...
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Happy New Year
For this year-end issue, I thought I would write about New Year's Eve. After some research, I can now report that never before...
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The Same But Different
There is a song I remember from somewhere that begins: Who do you turn to when nobody needs you? A valid question in many...
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The Tale of the IIRF
Come IROs - now don't be deaf, While I tell you the tale of the IIRF. It all came official in the town of Versailles (The place...
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A Fair Exchange
People who know me know that I love what I do. It is terrifically exciting and enormously satisfying to be involved in investor...
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