Thursday, 14 July 2011


Given age and  a paupers pension and a few pence from producing  words in print, the thought of  winning thousands on the lotto robs me of a couple of pounds every week. But like millions of fellow lotto addicts the lure of striking it rich must be like our ancestors joining the Gold Rush out west. The vast majority of punters will not make a vast fortune but what the hell, we do it anyway.
This week’s Euro lottery is a case in point. After weeks of no big winner the pot finally stopped at £161 million. Now think of that. The winner would be the 430th  in the Sunday Times Rich List. And all for just picking the right set of numbers.
Now, I think I could cope with the odd million or so without going mad, buying a string of top of the range cars, and hopping off to some far flung sun-kissed beach to bask among a bevy of bouncing beauties!
But being a man with champagne tastes and beer money I’d be daft to say I wouldn’t want to win the Big One. Which brings me to my dream…The other night in the early hours as I slumbered, the bedside radio which is habitually switched on must have got through to my brain with a report about the £161 million going to a Brit. Not only that I was sure my regular numbers had come up. In a state of near panic – only in my dream of course – I began to be concerned about what to do with such a vast sum. Silly things. Like which bank could I trust? I’d better re-write my will. I certainly don’t want publicity. And who should share in my good fortune.
 Then reality struck as I pulled the cork from another bottle as the bubbly flowed (dreams are like that: in a flash switching from panic to party animal) I felt a sharp poke in the chest. There standing at the bedside was a three-year-old little person, my grandson demanding my presence in the kitchen for nothing stronger than a glass of milk. I was tempted, as I eyed the time was and still being in winning party mood, to say that he ought to have called the nanny instead.
Hours later I got one of those messages from the National Lottery sent to online punters that sets the heart racing and begins News about your ticket…Yes, I had won. I hadn’t been dreaming after all. I was THE winner! As I opened the email the first three numbers were mine. Sadly the rest let me down. But I shouldn’t be too sniffy at winning a paltry £5.80. Next time it could be me!
I think a lovely middle-aged couple had got it about right when they were interviewed about becoming members of the Lotto Millionaire’s Club a few weeks ago. They appeared totally unfazed by their £3 million windfall. Why hadn’t they cleared off to enjoy their riches? “We have had a few things to sort out at work,” said the wife…
And I suppose if we are really honest that is how many of us would react, even though we might think otherwise. So far however the latest rich lotto Brit has remained elusive and, as I write, has not come forward with the winning ticket. I guess the £13,673,97  interest he (or she) is losing a day could be said to be small change !

No comments:

Post a Comment