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I finally got around to doing my tax self-assessment online this afternoon.  I didn't do it until the 28th. January last year

I have to say that it's a much better way of doing it than filling in that endless form by hand, especially as you can save it part-way through and go back to it later, not that I did so.  I did have a bit of a panic when I couldn't find my ID and password, but I found them just as I was going to give in and ask for an e-mail, thus putting it off again.

This year tax "owing"  from last year (Snort!!) is less than £100, but even so I've had to put it on the credit card, because, although I do have enough money to pay for it, I don't know how much it's going to cost to have the lights in the kitchen fixed.  We've waited all this time since the plumbing disaster, to see whether the lights might have dried out and miraculously work again, but sadly they don't, so I've phoned Chris and he's coming on Wednesday;  however I have no idea whether we shall have to replace the kitchen lights or not, nor how much the whole thing will cost.  (Crosses fingers, throws salt over left shoulder and hobbles widdershins around the room).  I also have to find the money for my writing course.  I had it all sorted out before People Who Shall Be Namless, But Who Know Who They Are put a nail through a heating pipe when nailing down a floorboard, since when I've paid out a totally unexpected £94 and expect to have to pay more.

I've had to bite the bullet because we could no longer wait to clean the kitchen properly and Charles has manfully been doing it in the semi-dark, since the kitchen gets little light in the winter and today even less than usual.  It's also getting a bit tiresome trying to cook without the main lights, even though we have the table lamps from the sitting room and spare bedroom in there as supplements.

We've done hardly anything over the weekend as I've been feeling extraordinarily tired and breathless, today as well;  sometimes I wonder whether there's something wrong with my pills.  I did have a fairly busy week last week, though, so maybe that's the reason.

Phoebe is being sick all over the place, although she seems perfectly happy and healthy and is eating as much as she ever does.  Charles remembered that last time this happened it was because she was constipated so we've administered a minute dose of liquid paraffin (about 2 ml)  - poor baby!  It probably wasn't a large enough dose, but I didn't dare give her too much and Charles can't find the cat-book.  Strangely enough, although she hated having it administered, it sems to have perked her up, although there have been no visible results so far.

blackberry444: (Default)

I finally finished my self assessment tax return, submitted it online and paid online with a great deal of difficulty.  The difficulty was owing to not being able to find my reference number anywhere.  I finally found it on the form they send you to pay by bank giro.

I don't know how they have the nerve to tax someone as poor as I am.  Nor how they can justify making my tax allowance lower than the annual state pension I made payments for all my working life.

Bloody vultures!

I now feel like a piece of chewed string.

Thank goodness Charles and I are having our delicious and easy pasta favourite tonight, since it's Boys' Night Out for John.
blackberry444: (Default)
Why am I sitting here writing in my journal rather than getting on with my tax return?

I think there's a part of my nature which likes panicking and doing things at the very last minute, no matter how stressful it is. It's absolutely stupid.  I must resolve to do it tomorrow..........but I had promised myself a session at the Lit & Phil. It's so long since I last visited and Thursday's writing class reawoke my creative impulses so that I'm dying to go there and write, specially as I have several new ideas in my mind for subject matter.

I could write here, but my desk is a complete tip again, and there's so much filing I have to do before I can even do my tax return and I really don't feel like doing it. If I could go to the Lit & Phil on Tuesday instead, I might be tempted to do the right thing, but I have a long lunchtime local CT meeting and will almost certainly feel too tired to go there afterwards.

I have my class to go to on Thursday and I certainly shan't feel like buckling down after that. I did love it, but last Thursday's class wiped me out completely.

Maybe I can do my free-delivery before the 24th. Asda shop online on Friday after I've tidied my desk and then I can devote the weekend to the loathsome Gordon Brown's business. I know he's not actually Chancellor any more, but I don't know anyone who believes he can resist telling the "real Chancellor" (Bwahahahaha!) what to do.

So what with Morrison's shopping yesterday, which was utterly vile because it was sooo crowded that I nearly burst into tears of exhaustion at the checkout, and my unwillingness to tidy my desk and do my tax return today, which made me do displacement activity cooking nearly all day, I've come to the end of another weekend with nothing accomplished! Well, apart from a lot of cooking, I suppose.

I spent time today making, among other things, a really nice stock for soup, cooking haricot beans for Charles to use in this evening's dinner, and also cooking a small piece of smoked bacon so that he would have boiled bacon and stock.

He turned it into a wonderful fabado, with enough left over to go in the freezer for 2 people on another day. We also still have half the boiled bacon for sarnies, and there was a pot of stock left over for lentil and bacon soup, until John threw it away when he was doing the washing up! I really don't know how I kept my temper. Charles was very cross because he wanted to use some of it for pease pudding. to accompany the cold bacon. It really didn't occur to me that he'd throw away half a pressure-cooker full of liquid containing carrots, onions and bay leaves, especially as I was all of 30 feet away in the sitting room watching Lark Rise to Candleford and could easily have been asked. Never mind! Least said soonest mended, I suppose!

John really surprised me when he declined to watch Lark Rise to Candleford on the grounds that he had enjoyed the books so much he couldn't bear seeing them messed about by the BBC! I always thought he despised that kind of literature and he's always making disparaging remarks about women writers!.

I can't stop yawning, so I suppose it's time for bed!


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