My Uncle Viktor at the age of 27. He'd recently returned from a lengthy tour of the Caucasus, convinced that there was a fortune to be made in contracting the construction of football stadiums there. Although his father disapproved, Viktor somehow secured an enormous loan from him which was subsequently squandered on his true passion, buying 1930's German art photographs at auction. Tragically, all of the prints and negatives were seized and destroyed by Swedish customs officials in a misunderstanding over a university endowment. Viktor never really recovered from the shock but managed to eke out a marginally successful career as an arms dealer operating via mail order.
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