Anna Moloney was an AI Luddite. Then she discovered it could help her do her taxes. She tells us about (slightly) embracing ChatGPT in today’s Notebook
What converted me to ChatGPT?
A couple of years ago, I became a company director – a woman in business if you will. Anna Moloney Ltd, a fated venture, was set up in order to facilitate some freelance writing work I was doing for Litcharts, the sister site of online study guide giant Sparknotes. But while dishing out my wisdom on Moby Dick for that year’s GCSE cohorts, I myself was being schooled in the terrifying world of HMRC.
Reader, I’ll cut to the chase, Anna Moloney LTD’s taxes – while paid, don’t worry – have not been in good filing order. And it was this weekend, through gritted teeth, that I decided to address it.
Grappling with personal agency is a key theme in Moby Dick. “Is it I, God, or who, that lifts this arm?,” Captain Ahab asks. So too did newly appointed CEO Anna Moloney: was it really the fault of me, a wee girl who flinches at numbers, that I couldn’t figure out how to navigate the obfuscating online processes of His Majesty’s Revenue and Customs?
Well, perhaps a little. Fortunately, unlike just years ago when Anna Moloney Ltd was incorporated, today there is help at hand: ChatGPT.
Previously, when it has come to AI, I’ve been a Luddite (or “robophobe”, someone recently called me). No more! Finally, in the midst of questions about fixed assets, I found my saviour in artificial intelligence. I didn’t go as far as using an AI agent to fill in my tax return, but I did use ChatGPT to decipher exactly what each question was asking of me on HMRC’s online portal.
I’m still sceptical when it comes to many parts of AI. I don’t want it writing my poetry, or making my art, but god almighty do I want it filing my taxes. Call me (slightly) converted.
Grieving Simmons
News that Simmons is entering administration, as reported by City AM’s Simon Hunt, is reason for despair. It may be true that nobody really likes Simmons, but we’ve all ended up there upon a night out and, let’s be honest, not been sorry for it. Above all, Simmons is reliable. When Eastcheap Record turns you away, that pink neon light beckons you to a dancefloor where you know ABBA will be played at least twice. Hot on the heels of the fall of Pryzm (there’s now only one left in the country), it’s a sad time for cheese enthusiasts.
Not everything should be immersive!
“Immersive” has been a theatre and ‘experience’ buzzword for a while now, and I’ve dipped into my fair share of sampling, from the moody, artsy world of Punchdrunk productions to upmarket murder mysteries on board the Pullman Express. What I’ve come to realise, however, is not all stories should be told in this way. The new immersive Titanic exhibition, which I reviewed last week, gets a red card from me, and I think we should really start to question what the purpose of “immersive” is. Do we really want to feel like we were on board a sinking ship? I think not. In more positive news, after a three-year hiatus, Secret Cinema is back this week with an immersive take on Grease the musical. I would like to be flirted with by Danny Zuko, so I have high hopes.
The pedestrianisation revolution: is this it?
Remember the big announcements about London’s pedestrianisation revolution? Well the first inklings of that are here, with Redchurch Street’s launching al fresco dining last Friday. Always keen to try and emulate the Parisian way of life where I can, I went along to see whether it shaped up to the standards of our chicer neighbours. Not quite. While I applaud the initiative, the outcome is a little on the sparse side, with only two restaurants currently participating. Hopefully, this is just the start!
A pilgrimage to Salzburg
Having grown up on a strict TV diet of watching The Sound of Music every Christmas, it was a dream come true to be able to visit Salzburg earlier this summer with my mum and sister. We wasted no time in hopping straight on board the four-hour Sound of Music bus tour, on which we got to frolic in the hills, visit the movie sights and enjoy a whole-coach singalong of the entire soundtrack. My only complaint: I wanted more. The city itself is visibly far more enamoured with its links to Mozart than Julie Andrews, which in my opinion is completely upside down. This year marks 60 years of the iconic film, and it’s only just started building a Sound of Music museum – an absolute scandal!