By the time the first week of January is out of the way, it feels like the excesses of Christmas are but a distant memory.

After a full month of, most notably, over-eating, drinking and spending, January is a month to tighten belts, both real and metaphorical.

The leftover mince pies have been binned and the dodgy mulled wine shoved to the back of the cupboard.

The decorations are back in the loft and even though we’ll be finding pine needles until autumn 2015, the tree is gone and the house is restored to some semblance of normality.

There is always the question of what exactly to do with some of the less desirable presents, but that’s what a present drawer is for.

However, it’s always important to remember who gave you the novelty basketball hoop that hangs on the back of the toilet door to ensure it’s not re-gifted to the original giver. I will admit to an incident in the not too distant past where I re-wrapped a particularly poorly chosen CD and gave it back to the same friend... what a coincidence!

New Year brings the associated resolutions and more notably, to all the self-employed of the UK, the heart warming wishes from HMRC in the form of the self assessment deadline.

I’ve never been a huge fan of the idea of resolutions, apart from on February 1, when the cheque has been written and I am once again at peace with the tax inspectors.

Every year for the past 16 years I have vowed to become more organised with monetary affairs.

I’ve promised myself that the next year, by the time John Lewis airs its first Christmas advert, that I’ll be on the ball.

The reality is that every year, when I get the first letter from my accountant in September reminding me of the deadline, I know I have at least 12 weeks to bury my head in the sand to anything financial.

This usually results in a mad panic in the third week of December, when I spend three nights unable to sleep with the fear of the unknown and a ransacked house that I have to literally turn upside down in a search for receipts and paperwork to send to the accountant.

There is always a well-meaning friend who tries to offer sage advice: “Why not try keeping a spreadsheet of your expenses?” “Why don’t you sort it in April when the tax year ends?”

It’s hard to argue with this too, and I really have no excuse except that life just seems to get in the way of good intentions.

Panicking about a tax bill has become as much part of the run up to Christmas as the school nativity and putting up the tree.

Knowing that, in reality, I can’t afford to be spending money at Christmas time would just put such a dampener on the festivities.

It’s a strange phenomenon, because in every other area of life, I’m pretty organised.

Granted I’m a little slow on adopting a 21st century approach to personal organisation. I’m on first name terms with the counter staff at my local bank who every week try to convince me that internet banking is something that even their 90 year-old customers are doing.

December saw my first ever online grocery order too. Lovely as it was to have everything delivered to the door, I’ll be back to normal this week, trudging around with a trolley.

Maybe it’s a desire for personal contact rather than a reluctance to embrace change.

This year will doubtless be no different. Despite my must-try-harder new year’s resolution, December 2015 will surely bring the same sense of panic and if this year is anything like the last 16, I’ll be back in the black somewhere around August.

Organisation is so overrated, living on the financial edge is where it’s at.

Perhaps if someone from HMRC could just pop over for a coffee somewhere in mid-June, I could chat it through and sort the whole horrible tax thing out much more painlessly.

I could even throw in a present for their trouble; I have a lovely toilet door hanging basketball hoop looking for a home.

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