For the lovers of Only Fools and Horses, you will of course be familiar with Del Boy and his quest to be a millionaire. It was always ‘this time next year’. When it finally arrived, if my memory serves me correctly, it didn’t bring happiness to the Trotter household.
Winners of the lottery have always intrigued me. Some go big bang with publicity and huge purchases, others remain private and keep things low key.
My exam question to you, is simple; what would the first thing you would buy if you suddenly realised the millionaire world was welcoming you in with open arms? Would you go for the traditional purchases? A new house; fancy car; multiple holidays perhaps; season ticket at Greenock Morton…possibly?
I was asked this question recently and my answer was quick and honest. As soon as that 8-figure cheque arrived into my account (sorry, Freudian slip, our account), I know exactly what I would buy…a new kettle.
Yip, it would be my first purchase. I would walk into the store like ‘Harry Big Cigar’, probably with a cigar actually because that’s what millionaires do. I would walk confidently up to the counter and ask to see their fine selection of kettles.
You see, our kettle is a wee smasher. but it doesn’t switch off on its own, and it hasn’t done so for about two years now. It is a major flaw to the operation. Having to be in the kitchen whilst it is boiling away is a hardship. But why haven’t we bitten the bullet and purchased another one? Answers on a postcard please. I honestly don’t know.
Next purchase; a yard brush. Again, we are living with something that clearly doesn’t work. Sellotape is keeping the brush secured to the pole. It falls off circa every 47 seconds. We stick it back together again, and away we go. Then it falls off again.
With both purchases securely under my arm. I would continue on my way to everlasting happiness by seeking out my next purchase.
A clock. Yip, a clock.
A clock for every room in the house. We have a distinct lack of clocks in the house. One in the kitchen…yeah, that is about it.
I never know what time it is. Wear a watch, I hear you scream. Yeah, I should, and I do, sometimes. But why oh why do we have to play ‘guess the time’ in the family home?
And there you have it. When the lottery people make that call and say, ‘Mr Ewing, I have some marvellous news for you. I can confirm you are the proud winner of £10 million English notes’ (not Scottish, I couldn’t spend them anywhere, trust me), my life would be on the trajectory to completeness. A new kettle that has the confidence and skill to turn off itself, a yard brush that sweeps and sweeps and sweeps without collapsing at the first sign of more than four leaves, and clocks. Lots and lots of clocks.
You see, this is all really a pipe dream. Well, it is until such a time as we actually do the lottery. But a boy can dream, can’t he?
