Found

My tax records for 2001 have turned up - on my accountant's bookkeeper's desk! Big sigh of relief for that. But: I asked him half a dozen times whether they might be in his offices (naah), whether they might not be on one of his colleague's desks (nope), whether he was sure that he'd mailed them to me (of course).

This idle sod ruined my weekend, my beauty sleep and my digestion for three days, rather than getting off his arse and looking around. Yes, I'm grateful for the support, but damn it all man.

The audit seems to have gone well: I owe the taxman a few hundred Euros. They will be here tomorrow to inspect my apartment, to see whether I really do work at home. I think I do, and my neighbours would confirm if asked that I am always sitting at this desk typing away, but: is that work? Aye, there's the rub.