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Maths for Dunces

I’ve always been hopeless at maths.  I don’t know why – I think it is because my brain is wired that way.  Maths just doesn’t make sense to me.  When I passed my O level (yes, I really did), my teacher came to find me and tell me what a surprise this was to her (me too) and how it was not my hard work but a fluke.  Rude but accurate I’m afraid.

However, even the most incompetent sometimes have to rise to the challenge, and mine came in September, when I ran an event in Durham Cathedral.  What with speakers coming from the south coast, advertising, caterers and sound systems, there was quite a bit of money to find.  And the punters were charged a pittance for attending.  The organising agency is a charity which runs on a near zero account, so almost no float, and no cushion of its own if it all went horribly wrong.

Of course it didn’t go wrong – quite the reverse; it was very good.  However, even at £15 clergy and others complained about the charge.  I know my maths is bad, but even I can see that if there are out-goings, there need to be in-comings.  Three walked out (after coffee and biscuits) saying that this should be put on for free.  Bizarre!

You will be glad to know that we have covered our costs.  Even I can manage that much maths.  But there are obviously some whose maths is worse that mine, and haven’t figured out that if you put nothing in, nothing comes out.


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