Over the course of the day I have become gradually less cross with the world.
This was helped along by the most splendid conversation with the Inland Revenue today.
I rang them this morning to discuss paying them, or rather, the small delay in paying them caused by having inadvertently paid the bank instead.
Obviously there was a long wait, because it is Tax Panic Season. I listened to music for a while, and to a recorded voice telling me about their web page. After that I got cut off, and when I tried again I was put through to somebody who must have been put there by the Gods to make paying tax a heart-warming experience.
He was a Jamaican, and without wishing to sound as though I am stereotyping anybody, I couldn’t help but think afterwards that perhaps he had been utterly and completely stoned.
Never have I had such a gentle, relaxed conversation with a representative of Her Majesty’s Government.
He sighed along with me, and occasionally chuckled kindly. He spoke slowly and softly, and even when he was doing the standard Inland Revenue Threatening Script: “Now we don’ wan’ to be havin’ this conversation again in two weeks, Ma’am, so you better think what you sayin’ is right,” it was like falling into warm velvet.
He agreed that I could have the extra couple of weeks to pay the last of my tax, and then generously offered to make it four, just to be on the safe side. Then he wished me every happiness in my chosen life before he hung up.
I wish you could call the Inland Revenue to express admiration, but they don’t seem to have a dedicated line for that.
I felt as though I had just been swimming in pink twilight.
This improved my day hugely.
Up until that point I had been largely engaged in weather-related activities, because it snowed quite a bit last night. I was on the taxi rank at midnight and looked up from my book suddenly to discover that the world had become muffled and white, with huge feathery snowflakes silently landing all around me.
I thought I had better go home whilst I could still get up the hill. It was a good job that I did, because nobody else had tried this and it was a bit touch-and go. I slid into the parking space behind Mark’s trailer and felt jolly relieved that I had missed everything solid.
This morning the snow was still here, although becoming muddy and damp in places, which is always disappointing. There is something magical about huge quantities of snow, mostly I suppose because it provides a jolly good excuse not to go to work.
The dogs charged about in the Library Gardens, and I brought in piles of firewood and then went to the library, just in case the world disappeared under a huge pile of snow and I needed to occupy myself without the internet for a week.
I saved the hand washing and the kitchen cleaning for the afternoon, when the policeman story came on to the radio. I am sorry to tell you that he will not be getting back with his wife now, because she died in this afternoon’s episode. This was a disappointment, because I had been hoping for a Happy Ending.
When Mark came home I decided, lazily, not to go to work, but to stay at home and eat a cooked dinner and watch a film. This was a truly wonderful ending to the day. Mark cooked pasta, and in the end instead of a film we watched some episodes of a series called The Crown, which is about the Queen whilst she still had somebody fitting her underwear for her. Prince Philip tied his tie up the wrong way, not in the Windsor knot that the real one uses, but apart from that it was jolly interesting, and we could pretend that it was probably all true and that we were having a spectacular opportunity to be nosy into somebody else’s business.
I didn’t mind about missing work, because last night I only made twelve pounds, and in any case there was enough snow to provide an excuse, however rubbish. I will try again tomorrow.
I had a Happy Ending to the day. I am a lot less grumpy now.
