Registering as self-employed is simultaneously very hard and very easy. You swear at the website for over an hour, call the most relevant number you find, listen to a recorded message giving you a long list of numbers you should have called instead, call the most relevant one from the list, sit on hold for some time, answer a lot of security questions for a nice lady in return for yet another numbers, plow throw a push-button menu, and speak to a nice man who sets everything up for you in ten minutes.

I still don’t have my ITIN from the US, but they have until April now. And I’ve manage to register in time to avoid a fine, not that the length of time is specified anywhere. And I’m probably going to be below the threshhold to pay tax on my writing earnings (£5000, roughly) anyway, so this nice man is also sending me an exemption form.

I should probably pay in the nice cheque from Loose Id some time soon!

So now I’m going to watch Dinnerladies anddrink a cocktail of my own devising (sloe vodka, brandy, lemonade, peaches and oranges) and reading my free copy of the Guardian. It’s almost like being some kind of grown up.

“You teeter on the thrush threshold, threatening to thrash.”