At about 08:35 this morning I was wandering across to Rachel's for the ride to work. I had my wallet in my bag, along with a book to read (Claude Brown's 'Manchild In The Promised Land'), my dinner, and the all-important can of deodorant. I also had with me this morning the burden of trying to buy a lottery ticket.
The central hampering factor was ironically work. We clock on at 09:00 and we do not leave the premises until 17:30. Directly before or after work I had to make it into a shop that sold lottery tickets, quickly fill out two boards on the one ticket, and then try and convince the dopey sales assistant that I am, indeed, over the age of 15. By four years! (In my experience (and my sisters) you can never be too careful) The shop I had in mind was 'costcutter' at the crossroads. It sold food, it was a newsagent's and it was a post office -- surely it sold lottery tickets. Getting there would be at the discretion of my sister who drove to work. We passed right by the shop, but stopping could be a problem.
I knew I would have to mention it to her immediately for her to allow such break in procedure. As I am sure many are aware, procedures so early in the morning are not easily broken with. Procedures operate and happen without active human thought. I knocked on the door as I always do and waited for the shout from inside as it always came. I stepped in and closed the door behind me. Bad news. Rachel seemed a little irritated about something. I could not mention it now: I would have to leave it until we got to the car. But by the time we were sat in the car, things had taken a turn for the worst as far as my plan for buying a lottery ticket before work was concerned.
It turned out Rachel was worried about her car. First, she had not driven it for some days. There was a good chance it would not start. That would mean the jump-start procedure would have to be deployed. Fun. Second, there was no gasoline. Rachel's car never ever has any gas in it, but we would have to fill up on the way on account of the car being stationary for so long. Thankfully, after a few coughs and a few more chokes, the car started. We went up through Lymm for gas. This was highly unusual and a complete detour. Definitely no lottery ticket before work. The only hope now was Rachel would stop on the way home from work, because I sure wasn't prepared to walk down into the village after work if I could help it.
Work was busy. I have very bad toothache at the present time. I do not know how I got through the day. I sold a large piece of Bridgman furniture (our top of the range, most expensive, with all the trimmings furniture) clutching the left hand side of my jaw. Rachel tried to persuade me with great force to go see a dentist, but me and dental care is another blog entry all together! I hope to get round to writing that very soon...
As the clocked ticked onto 17:30, I was still unsure where Rachel's forceful concern (the kind I really admire her for) left our speaking relationship. As it turned out, we were fine. But I still did not ask her to pull over so I could go buy a lottery ticket. Honest reason: I forgot. The great manager gave us all iced creams for our hard work, and I was struggling to devour that in both an acceptable manner and trying my absolute best not to aggravate my severe dental problems. I remembered only when we pulled up to the traffic lights next to the shop. I was still battling with my iced cream. I had to leave the lottery ticket. I was so disappointed in myself. I hate letting anybody down, but I feel especially bad when I let my Dad down. I had told him the night before he departed for
At 21:30, I turned over to BBC One for the draw. The programme prior to the lottery draws was still churning on, pleading to viewers to phone in and burn ten pence. Eventually, the lottery draws came on and I was set the initial task of deciphering which draw I would have placed the numbers for. There are so many different draws now, it is ridiculous. Why not just increase the prize money for one really big draw? While all the other less significant draws were rumbling on, I suddenly wondered why I was watching this. I had not bought the tickets. I had not placed the bets. But I just had to know. My soul was craving for a conclusion to the madness. Would we have won anything? What if we would? What if all six of Dad’s number had come up? I’m not sure I could live with that. Knowing that my idleness was the reason my Dad (the man who raised me) was not so-many-million better off. What if my numbers had come up? I think I could just about live with that. Money is, after all, only man-made. Though the money would fix my teeth…… now I just had to know.
Soon enough, after the thinking was done, the main lotto draw commenced. The lovely Kirsty Gallagher was hosting the programme and quiz guru William G. Stewart was ‘pushing the button’. The first number out: 23. A number I had picked. Dad had not. That made me smile. At least I have not cost Dad the top prize. Then the second number: 36. You are kidding me?! 36?! Another number I had picked! I had the first two numbers and Dad had neither. This brought to mind two lines of thought. First, at least I had not cost Dad a serious amount of money. And second, all them thoughts about me not really caring if I won or not – well that felt frankly like psychological bullshit now. Something I was perhaps supposed to feel. If the other four numbers were the four numbers I had written down came up, well…..
My heart was racing. What would I do? What could I do? The third number (this for £10) was…… I can’t remember. I can’t remember because it was not one I had written down. The relief was immense. The remaining three numbers did not match any of mine or Dad’s. I thanked the Lord, and went on my way, with all my thoughts about all my thoughts, and wrote this.
Yours, wherever you may be,
Daniel C. Wright
1 comment:
Interesting to know.
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