Life is indeed a lottery

All my life, I have considered myself to be unlucky. Not, I must confess, in family terms; as I freely acknowledge that I come to my present age with two adult sons and a daughter, and three grandsons, all of whom I am truly proud. In the card-game of life, I have been dealt a hand which has seen sorrow, illness, early death, joy and happiness, and you have to play the cards you gather in your hand.

No, the unlucky element has been the amounts of cash not won, the prizes going to another; that sort of chance. I have won, in true gambling or chance terminologies, very little. I have won a few £10 lottery wins, a pack of cigarettes when eighteen years old, about three pounds odd on slot machines in one session, and that is about it. Not a great deal of ‘luck’ spanning nearly seventy years on this planet. But after listening to the explanations of Trevor Bayliss, he of the ‘clockwork radio’ and many other inventions, I have come to accept that I have been extremely lucky, in both my childhood, my life, my friends and my choice of beliefs.

If I might explain, Mr Bayliss’ interview with the presenter on this morning’s Broadcasting House, in which he revealed that he had been sexually abused by an Anglican curate at the age of five, really told me how lucky I had actually been. He told how he had been attacked by a six-foot man, and had been told that his suffering was a ‘secret rite’ in the Anglican church, and he mustn’t ever speak of it. His actual recording was edited by the interviewer, as most of what he had to state was perhaps too graphic for a Sunday morning audience!

It was then that I realised how lucky I been when young that I hadn’t lived in a Parish which was peopled by voracious perverts, I hadn’t joined any ‘youth groups’ led by paeadophiles, I hadn’t been the victim of family abuse; in other words, I had indeed been ‘very lucky’ in my life.

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