Blog Minx

I arrived home last night to find one of ‘those’ letters waiting ominously on the table. No, not a Dear John; a letter from the tax department informing me that my tax payment was well overdue and I needed to pay up YESTERDAY.

I was self-employed most of last year and had what felt like copious amounts of money flooding into my account at regular intervals. Yes, I knew that I’d have to pay tax on it but when I got my full-time job earlier this year (which considerately deducts tax automatically from my wages each fortnight) I forgot all about it. D’oh!

So the money that was blooming in my account, which I was planning to shove into high-yield investments (or at least some spring fashion), has gone out the window. The less greedy part of me acknowledges that a lot of tax is well-spent on funding local health, education, infrastructure, etc etc. But some is definitely not allocated as wisely: government funded hip-hop courses spring to mind.

I felt like Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost, not kissing Demi Moore or announcing: “You in trouble, girl,” but at the moment she’s forced to relinquish a seven-figure cheque to a pair of oblivious nuns collecting on the street. I didn’t have to part with quite that much, but I can understand her reluctance. After all, if I was being haunted by Patrick Swayze I’d find some comfort in that money.