22 Sep 2018

And Then I Resolve A Problem...

If you’re wondering, for some strange reason, where I’ve been since Wednesday, wonder no more as I’m delighted to announce that my little nest of vipers had a lottery win.

Great eh? Let me tell you, after the initial euphoria has passed it’s just one headache after another. Such as? Such as, what to do with the money. Which banks are one hundred percent safe? Any? If we get a lefty government soon – okay, a more lefty government – how much of everyone's money will they decide is actually theirs to share and lift it without warning? Stocks and shocks? Same conclusion as the above.

Keep the money under the bed? Buy gold? Physical or paper? If physical, where to keep it? Under the bed? So many headaches.

Need financial advisers I guess. More than one I guess. Tax advisers? I would guess so. Quite a few. So much to guess about.

I sat back and pondered all the above options with trepidation and after careful review opted for the option not mentioned above. And that would be? I suggested she walked down to the corner shop and collected her entire winnings of twenty five pounds and spent it then and there, frivolously, on a few frivolities.

As further a note, and as previously mentioned, her indoors is still convinced she’s a winner and no amount of explaining, with or without the aid of PowerPoint presentations, will convince her that she hasn’t won a damn bean but merely got back a minute fraction of the money she’s already ‘invested’ in the buying of lottery tickets. Which reminds me; I need to get out and buy a couple of lottery tickets for tonight...

Better than a lucky dip?

Quote;  George Orwell.

“The Lottery, with its weekly pay-out of enormous prizes, was the one public event to which the proles paid serious attention. It was probable that there were some millions of proles for whom the Lottery was the principal if not the only reason for remaining alive. It was their delight, their folly, their anodyne, their intellectual stimulant. Where the Lottery was concerned, even people who could barely read and write seemed capable of intricate calculations and staggering feats of memory. There was a whole tribe of men who made their living simply by selling systems, forecasts, and lucky amulets. Winston had nothing to do with the Lottery, which was managed by the Ministry of Plenty, but he was aware (indeed everyone in the party was aware) that the prizes were largely imaginary. Only small sums were actually paid out, the winners of the big prizes being non-existent persons.”

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