Troll or Assassin

One thing I noticed on our Icelandic trip was that there were lots of isolated homes in the middle of nowhere. As any fan of Scandi Noir will tell you, this is a sure setting for a murder. While Daughter sought out trolls and elves I was picking out the assassins. 

Even the cathedral wasn't immune although that's rather more the fault of Morse than the Norse. Choir master found dead in the vestry after very public argument with leading soprano.

I decided, on the plane over, that the girl sitting next to me - not Daughter obviously, the one on the other side - was working as a detective in the south of England but was returning home to Iceland for the first time in a decade because her estranged mother is dying. 

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As a charity Zac's has to submit an annual report and accounts to the Charity Commission, and yesterday was the last date to submit for 24-25. The accountant/auditor kept our accounts until the last minute so there's been a final dash to get them in. 

It sounds simple but the CC asked lots of questions about the accounts. If they read the accounts they'd have seen the answers for themselves but, no, as secretary to the Trust I had to do that for them. So they wanted things like total income, then separate sub-categories relating to source. I added up all the relevant figures, with paper and pencil because that's how I do things, and then totalled them, and they came to £1 less than the figure in the accounts - from which I'd taken all the numbers.

I tried using a calculator, same result.

Husband, who was helping me but mostly grumbling about why the accounts weren't in a spreadsheet ("Because they're not and we've got to live with it." "But why not? They should be." "Well, they're not!") finally put the numbers into a spreadsheet and having done complicated things with them came to the same conclusion. 

He suggested it was probably because of rounding up and down. 

I gave up and submitted my answer as it was, £1 less than the accounts. If they want to fight me about it they can. Oh, yes, so my plan had been to do it before going to Rough Edges, but there was information I needed to find out in order to answer the questions, so emailed people, and resolved to finish it off after Rough Edges.

Tea-time I got to the point of submission - of the documents not me personally although it came close - and . . . "Our online services will be unavailable from 5pm on Thursday 5th February 2026."

I might have started twitching at that point.

Tried again later and success! But I haven't recovered from it yet.

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Speaking of websites causing problems, I have an account on Substack, where I write about my 'pilgrimage'. Yesterday I received an email from them saying they'd been hacked and my address was one of those taken. So if I have your email address and if you get any dodgy-looking emails from me, please delete.

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My mum died fifty-four years ago yesterday. What a very long time.

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I decided yesterday would be my last full, regular day at Rough Edges. As with other things I need to prioritise what's important, like seeing my family!

The shop and work room are looking pretty good now, at least compared with what they were. Three of us have worked there for about twelve days altogether over the last three months to clear it, and we've filled three skips. We could probably fill another but we can't afford another one.

At our trustee meeting today we agreed that the team of four volunteers who were committed could have a go at managing the shop for a trial four-month period to see how it goes. If it's a success, great; if not, it will have to close.

After the meeting today I had to go to the charity shop to drop off some things that were more likely to sell in a 'normal' charity shop, like a typewriter, and a dvd player. I'd forgotten it was the shop that sells five books of £1 . . .

When I got to the till I realised I had six books but the woman said, "Oh, that's okay." As a would-be rich author I should probably disapprove; as a reader I love it.

Plus two jigsaws.

So it was back from Iceland to a bit of sickness followed by a flurry of busy-ness. This weekend I will definitely sort out the washing and do a jigsaw and chill. Oh, and watch, on the television, Wales play England at rugby. The WRU who run rugby in Wales is in a state of chaos, players are uncertain about their futures, and even our local club, Ospreys, is under threat. Which is just a way of building up to saying, "I am not expecting Wales to win anything in this Six Nations Championship."