Wednesday, 25 March 2009

I must be doing ok.

The taxman sent me a bill for about 10 grand the other week. And interest is running at 7%. Obviously, I don't have the money. There is a very natural and common reason for this. Let me explain.

When one starts a business, you can choose to draw up your accounts between whatever dates you like. I chose Sep 1st to Aug 31st. The tax year, of course, is April 5th to April 4th. The advantage in choosing a later date is that it gives you a year's headstart before you start paying tax big-time. In otherwords, it is very useful (and a practice encouraged by every business start-up advice manual or course).

When it starts to become a problem is when you either i) stop growing the business (because there is a backlog of debt in the system, or ii) if you go mad and have everything stopped dead.

If I had carried on as normal, I would probably be halfway there to being on top of it after last year. C'est la vie.

Anyway, to the MH aspect of the situation. Yes, getting letters like that make me shake for a day - yes, physically shake. And want to murder people and all the nasty things. THIS BEHAVIOUR AND REACTION IS PERFECTLY NORMAL, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!

But it isn't affecting me any more than that. Which is a good thing. I'm used to that sort of low-level stress. After all, the worst that could happen is that they make me bankrupt, which could lead to us being kicked out of our home (we rent, but there is often a bankruptcy clause in the agreement that fucks you - I haven't dared check - would rather hope for the best). On the plus side, they don't tend to declare people on benefits bankrupt (they wait til you're better!)... another spear in the side of the benefits trap?

I did talk to a lovely lady at or whatever they're called. She soothed my troubled brow, but didn't tell me anything I didn't already know.

I suppose I'm dealing with the fallout. I'm finding it impossible to actually do anything practical about it, but at least I'm not going nuts. But that's not really anything to write home about. I try to sort it out. I do, I really do. I do! I Do! Honest! But then an overwhelming urge to smash my face in overpowers me.

Basically, I'm in a continual state of wanting to puke with irritation at the foul and ridiculous situation my life is in.

There is a point to this post (he remembers), and it is this: outside stresses are 'easy'* to deal with for me. It's the inside stresses that are destroying. I've felt well and truly suicidal several times over the last month - but have felt completely safe with it (a novel feeling, considering the last 18 months) - I know I would never ever give the taxman the pleasure.

* read 'easy' however you like... I certainly don't mean easy... Why use the word then? I really don't know. But easier than the bad stuff at any rate.

p.s. thanks for all the kind posts on my pots. I'm an absolute rank amateur - I have only the 2 and 3 of spades in a card game. Check this out: - there are four in all - you'll have to hunt down the others by clicking on the chap who posted them. I can't be arsed to do the linking. If Fred Dibnah made pots, he'd want to be as self-sufficient as this chap. And as good. And this guy was good.

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