The end of the financial year was, of course, at the beginning of April. I’ve forgotten the byzantine reasons for this, but that’s when it ends, and it means that I have to get all our accounting bumf off to the accountants to be rendered comprehensible to those who need to comprehend such things (ie: The Charity Commission and the Inland Revenue).

Our book-keeping is done by my brother. As brothers go, he’s one of the better specimens, especially as he does our book-keeping for free.

I was getting the paperwork together ready to send off to said accountants when I discovered that I had a hole in what is usually referred to as The Paper Trail. A four-month shaped hole, to be precise, roughly the size of November, December, January and February. The aforementioned Brother was certain he didn’t still have them, so I spent a large chunk of Friday turning my office upside down in pursuit of November through to February.

Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.

In desperation I emailed the Brother asking him to make quite sure that he didn’t have the missing paperwork - because if he didn’t my only other option was suicide.

That evening the ‘phone rang at home. It was the Brother.

“I seem,” he said, with an admirable attempt at insouciance, “to have found a large brown envelope …”