Imagining what we’d do if we won the lottery is a guaranteed cheerer upper. Especially now, when the lottery jackpots seem bigger than ever.
My mum played the same numbers every week and I still remember them. If she won a tenner she was as delighted as if she’d won a million.
But I agreed when Mum said the jackpots were too big and the lottery should be more widely shared to make more families happy. If one person won last night’s £180million Euro lottery, surely that’s too much for any one person?
I stopped playing the lottery after I lost Mum. But I still sometimes imagine what I’d do if I won. I’d look after any friends and family who were a bit short then donate to charities.
And I’d build a special Alzheimer’s home and personally interview all the staff to make sure they had genuine kindness.
I have no interest in swapping my house for a big mansion because my memories of my late husband Colin are here. Posh designer clothes don’t give me a thrill because I’d only get soup stains down the front of a Chanel jacket. And I wouldn’t jet off on a fancy holiday because I’m happiest just where I am.
I have everything I need for a happy life: a comfortable home, a loving family and great friends who keep me smiling and laughing. I even have nice furry slippers. What more does anyone need?
Big brek and big hugs on big day
Everyone is making big plans for June 21, the first day of lockdown freedom.
After hugging my family and friends, I’m most looking forward to little things I’ve missed. Like the brief chats with the ladies in the local chemist, who always pop their heads above the counter to say hello - even if it’s just to laugh at my medical
There’ll be no stopping me visiting the shops at Broughton Park, where I’ll sit outside at Costa and speak to absolutely everyone I set eyes on. I’ll say: “Good morning babes, isn’t it a lovely to see the sun and be out?”
Chatting to strangers, hearing their stories gives us all a spark of happiness. And every now and then you make new friends.
I once chunnered to a man outside a restaurant for so long, I hadn’t realised he was Turkish and spoke no English. Each time I returned to the restaurant his daughter, who owns it, gave me a lovely warm welcome.
I cannot wait to see Cath and Sharon at the Expresso Cafe in Gwersyllt to have a chat and one of their legendary fry-up breakfasts. Once, when they put their radio on in the cafe, I burst in to song and the other customers joined in. It’s a joyful place of hearty portions. And I won’t be ordering a small or medium breakfast but the biggest one: fried bread, black pudding, brown sauce, the lot.
Come to think of it, now I know exactly where I’d go and how I’d spend a lottery win.
Jac’s a glass act
My neighbour Nia’s grandson Jac was so delighted to see himself in last Saturday’s Mirror he ran around his street holding the paper and shouting: “Breaking news!”
I replied: “Andrew, I have no idea what this means. You might as well ask me the name of the man who emptied the bins last Tuesday.”
So for those in the know, this column is online on Friday nights. But for me, I’ll continue to have my paper delivered on Saturday and read it spread out on my kitchen counter while holding my magnifying glass.
Sometimes we don’t realise how much we need a lift until we’ve thrown our heads back and laughed our heads off.
That’s exactly what I did when I watched Ant and Dec’s Saturday Night Takeaway.
I taped it because I was on Robbie’s Five Live 606 radio at the time. And seeing Harry Redknapp in a skit made me howl. I enjoyed every minute watching him in the I’m a Celebrity jungle and would love to sit down for a cup of tea with him. And jam roly poly, et cetera, et cetera.
Yul do for me, gents
Masterchef’s Gregg Wallace says his confidence really suffered when he lost his hair.
Just look at Yul Brynner.
When I saw a picture of him with hair I didn’t like him at all. But when he was bald as a bat in Magnificent 7 I thought, ‘I wouldn’t mind making you bacon and eggs at three o’clock in the morning’.
I adored Yul in The King and I so much I started saying ‘et cetera’ at the end of every sentence.
I’m going to start saying it again. If anyone asks what treats I’ve eaten this week, instead of shaming myself by listing the eight Aero bars and Sheila’s home made lemon drizzle cake, apple crumble and two scones, I’ll just say: “Oh just some soup. Et cetera, et cetera’.
Tears we go... a Royal TV must
I can’t wait to watch Oprah Winfrey’s interview with Prince Harry and Meghan.
I’ll be glued because I want to know exactly what’s going on. Did Harry really want to leave Britain and his family? Or was it all down to Meghan, who only stayed here for two minutes and left before she could make up her mind if she liked it or not.
I’d like to know how Harry feels about leaving his charities, because his passion for them seemed genuine. Or did he think it was worth it because he’s so in love he wants to make Meghan happy above all else?
Since Meghan’s an actress, she’ll be able to cry at will.
So even the wisest among us who feel we can read between the lines and see the truth in body language might learn anything at all.
One thing’s for sure: their story is in a sad chapter.
Magnum for tee after my golf attempt
Everyone is hoping Tiger Woods can return to the golf course after his car crash. But I’m just glad he survived, even if he never picks up a club again.
Golf is a game I just can’t take to. I visited a driving range with my grandsons Charlie and Freddie once, and they tried to teach me how to smash every ball on to the green like they could.
I stood exactly as they showed me and in my head I was a professional golfer. But despite my best swings, I kept missing the ball and couldn’t even get it off the tee, never mind on to the green or in a hole.
In the end I passed my bucket of balls to the boys and took myself off to the cafe because they had Magnums.
If you’d like to contact Val, email [email protected] or write to Val Savage, PO Box 7290, E14 5DD