We always knew that the Jabberwocky would be a learning curve. Totally new and unexpected situations that do CV-boosting activities like throwing you “out of your comfort zone” or “in at the deep end” as well as requiring you to “think on your feet” and “remain positive despite setbacks” are all part of the usual start up process. Not only do they provide you with an excellent set of buzz-words for jobs that like blue sky thinking and people who would never spell team with an “I”, they are also quite interesting once you have peeled away the jargon an actually find out what on earth is going on.
The thing that took us by surprise, even though we were prepared for it by every jaded, bitter business owner who came into our lives, was the odd little cost of EVERYTHING. Magically, almost as soon as we started, things began to cost money. It’s a small business, so there wasn’t a massive amount of money, but luckily nothing costs very much. The strange thing was that every time you paid for something, another item moved into its place.
The van was our initial outgoing, and having bought the food van, we were committed to its well-being, and had to get it seen to, painted, taxed, cleaned, branded and, above all, working. Following that there was the kitchen in the belly of the Beast, which turned out to be neither legal nor functioning, and led to much money spending as well.
I could go on, but finance is dull and money is just a means to an end. A few days ago the Inland Revenue wrote to us with news that the year had ended, and that at some stage, many moons from now, we would need to prepare to return. The tax return won’t be fun, and will quite possibly involve all of the scrupulously collected data I have been gathering so far, like a numerically-crazed squirrel waiting for the Winter of Discontent.
It does mean that I have a full list of all the additional costs that are involved in making something out of nothing, and I can see why people don’t go in for it themselves. The health and safety inspections (gas and electricity along with food hygiene), the festival fees (hundreds of pounds per festival, paid up front) and the odd little bits and bobs that pop out of nowhere (a random decision one day to make a flag for example) have all had their slice.
In the dazed wake of all that expenditure we should probably be world renowned by now, but the problem is that every other business is in the same boat, rowing against the current and wondering about lunch. So we are hunting for an accountant to organise the finances we have, so that one day we can pitch up at the riverside and give everyone else a bite to eat.
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