Everyone’s a winner with my tale of Anthea Turner and an inflatable banana
I DIDN’T win that huge Euro Lottery jackpot of £139 million because of my memory. I forgot to buy a ticket. But, while I failed to become a millionaire, I am still in pocket by £2.50.
The Lotteries, domestic and European, can be a double-edged sword. When Camelot launched 26 years ago, a publican friend was convinced he could win big by buying 100 tickets every week. He didn’t and eventually did a moonlight flit to avoid creditors.
It can tempt injudicious investment from folk who can’t afford it and provide complications for those who become part of a works or office syndicate.
We had such a syndicate in the Examiner Features Department, many years ago, and took turns in buying the ticket.
I remembered it was my responsibility to obtain it late one Saturday afternoon whilst in Hull with my wife Maria, and realised the numbers were at home.
We had to make a very fast journey back along the M62 to get them and make the essential ticket purchase before the deadline.
What if I had bought six lucky dips instead of the syndicate’s chosen digits and Susan’s winning line had come up? It didn’t bear thinking about.
Of course we didn’t win, despite my Lewis Hamilton efforts. We never did.
A national lottery has a surprising history. The first was held in England in 1569 and was commissioned by Elizabeth I to raise money to develop export markets, build trading ships and improve ports. Tickets were an exorbitant 10s each and incentives were offered to buy them. One advertisement promised “all ticket holders freedom from arrest for all crimes other than murder, felonies, piracy or treason”.
So go out and pinch 10 bob and you were in with a chance.
First prize was £5,000, which