Tax Idiocy.


Yesterday afternoon, I started getting my records together for my tax return.

Well, I thought I did, but I was wrong. Very wrong. Despite spending a couple of hours at it: printing out my invoices and bank statements; methodically working through my accounts, cross-referencing everything against my diary – it gradually dawned on me that every second had been wasted.

Why? Because I was working on the wrong tax year, that's why; I was collating my records for 2011-12, when I should have been working on 2012-13. 

(A subtle but important difference.)

Up to that point I was enjoying myself. I don’t mind doing my tax return because I find it quite interesting; I like looking through my receipts and remembering what I did and when. I was pleased to be making steady progress; happily singing along to the Paul McCartney album ‘Tug of War’ as I worked.

As soon as I realised my mistake, Macca was switched off (probably for the best, as I was nearly at Ebony and Ivory). I sat in silence, clutching a brand new copy of the selfsame records I’d already compiled a year earlier.

It’s fair to say that if either Moira Stuart or Adam Hart-Davis had knocked on my door at that moment, I wouldn’t have been responsible for my actions.

Who says tax doesn't have to be taxing?

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