I’m thinking of doing the lottery! Not done it since the early days. I gave it up when I first became an artist (all the good ones are very poor to begin with).
I had the lottery idea at 7.30am while queuing in corner shop for milk (after being too lazy to get some the evening before, because the crack of dawn is a much better time !!!!). The man in front of me caught my eye … well my nose first, if I’m being honest. Smelling of fags, old sweat, Lynx Africa and alcohol, a heady combination of odours. Smelling vaguely like someone had plugged in a Glade air freshener in the elephant house at the zoo.
Or maybe he was trying to mask the smell of the Lynx …with fags and booze. He was clutching two very large plastic bottles of cider and I mean very large. He got to the counter and asked for four hundred cigarettes, two lottery tickets and three scratch cards…then he remembered something and rushed off to another part of the shop – maybe to get some umbrellas to go in his mug of White Lightning?
He came back shortly with a small loaf of bread which he happily, if slightly out of breath told the shopkeeper was “for the kids’ breakfast!” He could now drink cider from his Dad of the Year mug (minus umbrellas ) without any hint of shame.
At this point in my judgey horrid mind I thought of getting a lottery ticket. A winning one, obviously. (I’m not going to dick around with any of those “sorry, you weren’t lucky this on this occasion”time wasters!) I dreamt of the luxury this could bring. And I know money doesn’t bring you happiness but it does make being miserable lot more fun.
And also I wanted to to tell all my friends that I got the twenty six million after replying to a Nigerian prince who needed to unlock his fortune and had selected me among thousands to help.
But then there is the choice of which lottery to play … post code … health…national…
I think I would go for the health one, 1) because I’m getting old and 2) I envisage them turning off little Timmy’s dialysis machine if I don’t …”I’m sorry Timmy no dialysis for you today because Phil In The Box won’t stump up a pound to play ” and if news of that got out, my card sells would plummet.
I snapped from my early morning day dream to the glare of the shopkeeper. I placed the milk on the counter and then realised that I didn’t have enough cash on me to buy milk and a lottery ticket … milk it is then … bye bye, lap of luxury … bye bye, Nigerian prince …. rest in peace Timmy.
If this tale of a life lived in luxury, that could have been (but probably won’t), has cheered your day, you could do your bit to facilitate this by heading to my Etsy shop and making a good start on your Christmas shopping. You know those fab posters we have that cost £10 (these are just a few examples)? You can currently buy four of them for just £35. Leaving you with £5 spare to play the lottery…