In the end, submitting my self-assessment tax return yesterday was very anti-climactic.
It would have been nice if there'd been fireworks, or a triumphant fanfare bursting forth from my computer. I would have liked to have high-fived the studio audience, or be lifted onto the shoulders of my team. Even the offer of a cup of tea and a biscuit would have been enough to mark the moment, but in reality, all that happened after I clicked 'submit' was a moment's silence while I waited for confirmation that it had gone through, the receipt of a submission code, before setting about the rigmarole of shutting down my computer and packing away all my receipts to move on to something else.
It would have been nice if there'd been fireworks, or a triumphant fanfare bursting forth from my computer. I would have liked to have high-fived the studio audience, or be lifted onto the shoulders of my team. Even the offer of a cup of tea and a biscuit would have been enough to mark the moment, but in reality, all that happened after I clicked 'submit' was a moment's silence while I waited for confirmation that it had gone through, the receipt of a submission code, before setting about the rigmarole of shutting down my computer and packing away all my receipts to move on to something else.
That said, there was a slight sense of relief. While I've yet to miss a self-assessment deadline, there's always the worry that this year might be the one. Thankfully, it wasn't. The only other thing I felt was amazement at managing to survive on such little earnings. One thing's for certain: you don't become a performer for the money; you do it for the admin.