I do buy a lottery ticket every week, just one for Wednesday, one for Saturday and I cannot resist the Eurolottery once the jackpot reaches over 60 million and all the hype builds about the Friday night draw. I know the odds are low, I have over the years realised that my 6 regular numbers are the worst six numbers for putting in an appearance. I also know that on the week I did miss buying a ticket or changed my numbers that is the week all 6 would come up.
The amount I have to win grows by the day; as does the list of expenses it would be needed to cover. I would go out and by my Mercedes Convertible and a proper grown up car to match Sexy Sporty Dad’s elevated position in life. There will of course be a few nice treats and possibly a holiday for the family; the family gets bigger and wider so the more I need to win. What about all the lovely friends who have supported me over the years and stood by me, as I have needed them. There are of course so many people who need help out in the wider world, just last night I heard of a poor child who is in desperate need of a new experimental life-saving operation that is not done in this country but his parents have already re-mortgaged their home and have nothing left to help him.
I know that it would take a miracle for me to win and £10 is more likely to be my total winnings but I can dream can’t I as I painfully watch other numbers appear on the screen. What if?
Miracles are not about winning the lottery though they are about real life. They are about the creation of a tiny baby with all those fingers, toes and inner organs all working in unison to become a human being. It is the finding of a child still protected by her dead mother amidst the devastation and carnage left by war or weather. It is the simple act of being there for each other and giving something back in any small way that we can.
I am fast approaching a significant birthday and wondering how to celebrate it. Actually if truth be told I wish to forget all about it and return to my heady innocence of those childhood birthdays when I spent all year waiting for them to arrive. That is never going to happen so I need to think about what I want.
I decided, I didn’t need a party. I am in touch with all the people I wish to see and at a party I would be so busy seeing everyone that I could not spend any quality time with any one person. I would consider a holiday but it is so expensive to go during the holidays and all the children are in crucial years at school that taking them out is going to be difficult. Do you know what I would like, really like is the money towards a little sporty soft top, petrol guzzling, high insurance bracket, two seater ‘me’ car.
I have told no-one what I wanted except Sexy Sporty Dad and he agreed to help me look at a few MGfs or MX5s and guide me on what I need to be wary of. He seemed to understand that although totally impractical I needed it now while I was young enough to enjoy it rather than when I can afford it but am too old and decrepit to get into it. He began searching out the practicalities of the idea.
The other day he came to me and informed that I did not want an MG at all. But I did! No he said what you really want is what you have talked about forever and if we are going to be this impractical then we will go the whole hog, do it now and enjoy it.
My lovely husband has been out and bought me my dream Mercedes and given it to me as an early birthday present. Once he had found the right one he bought it; as the opportunity may not present itself ever again.
My children may starve or have to live off gruel again. I may never be able to buy another ‘little black dress’ or any of the accessories. My husband will not be able to afford that rather sleek road bike he has been eyeing in the shop window. I however, have the most beautiful sleek shiny hard top convertible in the world. My seats are not only leather but they heat up wrapping themselves lovingly around my body. The roof slides gracefully down into the boot of the car at the touch of a simple button. I truly am the luckiest person in the world.
Do you remember the classic Janis Joplin song:
Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?
My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends.
Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends,
So Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?
Well Janice it was Sexy Sporty Dad who listened intently over the years and answered my ambition, for which I thank him. I don’t thank him just for the most wonderful present a girl could ever be given, but also for listening. Not a trait I usually give him credit for as his eyes glaze over and he drawls “very good” at appropriate moments to whatever story I am droning on about.
I feel the need to go somewhere, anywhere, even just round the block. I will be taking the car on this occasion!
Check out my cooking blog at Teatime Treats with Tiggy