Sigh. Parental mini crisis. You may remember last summer I discovered a tax demand at parents house for £100K. It all got sorted, but it made us think they needed an accountant to do their tax for them. So we set one up. Managed to get brother to help look out all the documents over Christmas. All good.
Today sent accountant to mum's to pick up bits of paper, and mum all 'why on earth do I need an accountant? I'm doing it all myself. It's spread out on the dining room table, I'm filling in the form, and all I need to do now is put it online.'
Later today: 'apparently I need some bit of paper and I don't even understand what it is or where it is and it might be on the table but I don't understand can you come and find it for me'.
This is the general pattern. Fairly wearing.
Re privacy, I don't say anything I wouldn't say in real life to people I know, like Lalsy, and can never believe that anyone would be remotely interested in my life to the extent of piecing together bits of info. But I guess it's clever cyber stuff I should worry about.
Wonder how much is a hangover from feeling pretty invisible most of my life... I was always amazed that cars stopped for me at zebra crossings...