It's been a funny old week... Well, most of this happened over the last weekend and during the first couple of days of last week, but the rest of the week was only slightly less funny... just significantly less bloggable.
Being a temp, I realised sometime last year that I'd eventually need to file a tax return. It wasn't something I was looking forward to, despite the substantial HMRC advertising campaigns extolling the virtues of filing one's tax return online - supposedly the quicker, easier and surer option versus the old postal system. Nevertheless, the Eternal Procrastinator, I delayed actually signing up till March of this year ("too late!" my subconscious kept squawking).
The first thing to note is that signing up for self-assessment is not a single-stage process. Oh, no. You sign up to the Government Gateway, then have to apply for a Unique Taxpayer Reference, then have to apply for a User ID for the actual self-assessment section of the website. The first stage is quick enough, but the second can take up to six weeks (so say HMRC) and the final stage can take another two weeks or more.
And considering tax returns are meant to be submitted by early April, I had the nagging feeling that my subconscious was right for a change.
So, in a panic, I reached new heights of procrastination. I played around with online Tax Return Calculators, to determine first whether I'd owe them money or if I'd be expecting a nice cheque (the latter seeming most likely as, while only one of my three employers over the 2012-2013 tax year actually paid my tax and National Insurance, it did so at the 'emergency rate' - a flat 20% on everything. Considering they were my biggest earner by far, it seemed reasonable to believe that they'd have effectively paid my tax for the other two jobs, with plenty of excess.
Dearest reader, the reality of filing one's tax return online is not as the advertisements would have you believe. It is full of complex terminology that may well be beyond the ken of mere mortals such as myself. There are also some subtle points of procedure that only become clear once you've finished, meaning that you may well have to undo a large chunk of it and then re-do it differently.
At least, that's what happened with me: I got to the end, and found I owed them £6,000-odd, only to be told by the Helpline that one of my jobs should have been categorised as 'employment' (because they paid my tax/NI) rather than 'self-employment'.
On the upside, it only took three phone calls to the HMRC Self-Assessment Helpline to get me through it*, and one of those was entirely down to my own stupidity in not reading the instructions.
The net result (har har, I just made a tax joke!) is that I am expecting a tax refund cheque of a little over five hundred quid... which neatly pays for this year's BotCon boxed set and leaves me plenty left over for other treats or emergencies... and considering my employment situation from here on is looking a little uncertain, that can only be a good thing.
Having got my first ever tax return out of the way, it slowly began to dawn on me that the April deadline was actually for accounts of the tax year 2011-2012 so, while I'd been panicking about filing mine late, it is in fact almost a full year early.
Suck on that, subconscious!
During the early part of last week, I made a rather alarming discovery in my kitchen.
Ants.
I know it's unreasonable to expect a human dwelling, even a top-floor flat, to be entirely free of insects, but when one opens one's kitchen cupboard, for to make a cup of morning tea, one does not expect to find it teeming with ants.
And precisely what does one do in these situations?
I could feel my fragile reality beginning to fracture, like the ice on a puddle. Could this hole of a flat get any worse? Peeling paper on the ceilings, murky damp stains spreading around, leaks dripping into the fusebox, a hole opening gradually in the seams of the bathroom ceiling... and now an invasion of ants in my kitchen?
Fortunately (or, who could tell, maybe not?) my girlfriend was staying over. Calling her in as reinforcements and moral (not to mention psychological) support, we swiftly emptied out the cupboard in which they seemed to be massing (notably where I keep all the tea and sugar), throwing things into a dustbin bag left, right and centre. A tin of Lyle's Golden Syrup was forced into a sealable sandwich bag before being tossed away, since it was literally crawling with ants. Once the cupboard had been cleared of its intended contents, I realised the futility of trying to squash all the ants one by one...
...So I brought in the hoover.
Thing is, however many I hoovered up, more kept spilling out of the crack between the cupboard frame and the ceiling. It seemed impossible that a nest had sprung up literally overnight - we'd cooked dinner the night before, and not a single ant was seen - but where were they all coming from? A few even turned up in the bathroom, though that would be three or four, versus the teeming masses (probably no more than a hundred, in fact) in the kitchen. Eventually the steady stream of ants slowed to one or two every few minutes, but I still wasn't sure what to do next.
I sent a text message to my boss, telling her why I'd be late, called my folks to ask for advice, and eventually settled on going shopping for ant-killer spray (since it would have been next to impossible to apply any powder or gel to the sliver of a crack between the cupboards and the ceiling). In theory, such sprays should be available quite easily nearby, but I steeled myself to go as far as Harrow if necessary... the idea of getting back home to find the cupboards crawling with ants all over again was very much a waking nightmare.
Weirder still, a quick look around the (visible) outside of my flat, around two windows and the exposed pipework, revealed no sign of the ants point of entry. How they got in is still a mystery.
Thankfully, my local DIY store had exactly what I needed. Getting back home, I cleared the worksurfaces and sprayed generously, trying to aim for the crack they'd been spilling out of, but not really caring about accuracy. A few ants attempted to crawl away... but they didn't get far before the spray got the better of them.
The cleanup operation, once I'd got back home in the evening, after work, was a bit disheartening. I hadn't realised how much stuff I'd thrown away until I started refilling the cupboards. On the upside, that kitchen probably hasn't been cleaner since it was first installed, after I went over so much of it with anti-bacterial wipes to clean away the remnants of the ant spray on the cupboards' interiors and exteriors, and all the nearby work surfaces.
Since then, only a few ants have been seen - several more in the bathroom, crawling (somewhat bizarrely) over the barely-used, second-hand ironing board that I should probably just get rid of, one or two crawling urgently along the floor of the hall, looking for an escape. Now that I've hoovered the rest of the flat, hopefully I won't see any more... But that doesn't stop me scrutinising any of the points of shadow that seem to move in the corner of my eye.
And, hey, my girlfriend didn't decide to ditch me because of the ant infestation, so that's good...
On the subject of work, the latest bit of not-quite-news I've heard is that the maternity cover angle may well be coming to an end... but that doesn't mean I won't be needed. The returning mother is going through the usual 'haggling' over time, and the company needs to decide whether it can accommodate anything less than a full-time return. On paper, it would be hopelessly impractical - on the days she might work from home, someone would have to be in the office anyway, as the systems are not something which can be installed remotely - but it all depends on what level of childcare is deemed appropriate to a newborn second child, and how much is affordable.
(* In a conversation with my sister recently, she expressed a certain amount of surprise (maybe pride as well) in the fact that, having had three employers during the year, I sorted out my own tax return, with only three calls to the helpline, while her husband - with one employer - had to employ the services of an accountant. Naturally, I pointed out that this is the same guy who earns many thousands-per-annum more than me, and yet they never seem to have any money in their account. In circumstances like that, it's no surprise they're calling in an accountant... though I'd question the accountant's effectiveness given that the situation persists...)
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