To have one business venture go bad in a week is a shame. For two to turn sour is crushing. To be fair, a lot of it was to do with the weather. Had I known about the sudden deluge that would occur when I was walking down to sell my fudge this morning, I would definitely have packed it up in a more sensible way that didn’t result in literal puddles forming on its surface and me having to work out how to dry it out – and that way I wouldn’t have ended up with half a dozen trays of soggy sugary mess.
Despite the total income of zero, this was almost the least crushing of this week’s entrepreneurial activities. After nearly a month’s planning, this week I released upon the world my ice-cream sale. My house is within half a mile of 3 different primary schools, and on a relatively busy road – so with selling ice creams at a third of the price of the ice-cream van, I expected to make a killing. A nice big round number, to make my Tanzania fundraising look like it’s actually going somewhere. But no such luck. To be fair to myself, I did sell 24 ice-creams, and 13 lollies. Most of the passers-by were tempted by the signs I made for the sale, and about half of them bough something. The vast hoards off children I remember stomping past my house at around half past 3 every afternoon, however, seem to have vanished. Of the 3 schools I mentioned, the blue uniforms of the nearest one never even graced my street. Most of the children from the school I went to, newly kitted out in their slightly ridiculous green ties, seemed to be getting taxied around by their parents in surprisingly new cars like some sort of private chauffeur service. Thankfully, the third and final school did deliver. Being the furthest away, their numbers were relatively few, but they liked the ice-cream I sold, and some of them were quite sweet.
Rather than just stewing in my dissatistifaction however, and the looming nature of my fundraising deadline (I have 48 days to raise £730!), I have been proactive. After a present-buying break for the 18th birthday of one of my closer friends, I turned to Google. I have found about a number of car-boot sales taking place relatively near me in the next fortnight or so, which I will doubtless be attending – armed with the fixed fudge and plenty of cake. I am going to London on a course next week to meet the other people I will be travelling with, and I am going to ask them for advice; because 2 (or 6 or 7 or 10) heads are better than one.
I think there was supposed to some sort of vaguely moral point to what I’m writing, something that had very little to do with ice-cream, or birthdays, or money; but I’ve forgotten it. It might have been about perseverance, but to be honest, I’m not really sure.