Sweet William from my garden
This was some sort of bacteria culture we were playing with when I was a first aid helper in our village. I do not know what it was, but I survived so it could not have been so bad.
Sweet William from my garden
This was some sort of bacteria culture we were playing with when I was a first aid helper in our village. I do not know what it was, but I survived so it could not have been so bad.
When was the last time your walked away from a discussion, only to think of The Perfect Comeback hours later? Recreate the scene for us, and use your winning line.
Were the people in the photo drawing a blank: definitely not. They are all golden oldies somewhere in London patiently waiting for my dad (at the front desk) to call their winning numbers to complete their lotto page. They were the good old days when dad was able to move around and take an active part in golden oldie life. He still takes a part and now lives in an extra care home with all the trimmings, being looked after by lovely ladies who seem to have taken a fancy to him, although he is now 100 years old.
The strange thing is that the place where the regular lotto was held is just around the corner from where my dad is now living, although he had to take a bus to arrive there when he was living in his own house.
I was once paying my dad a visit in London and so he took me with him for the lotto afternoon, big deal. His girl friend also came with us, I think she was then about 78 years old and dad about 80 years old. Dad gave my card and said when he calls a number I should colour it with a special pen and when I had a full card I could call out in a loud clear voice to let everyone know. The reason my dad got the job was because everyone found he had a loud clear voice. Actually everyone in our family had a loud clear voice, it sort of came with the genes I suppose. My mum and her sisters often had a discussion, but to an outsider they would probably think it was a 5 star argument, they just all had loud voices. And dad – he never did hear very well, working in a factory all his life and serving in World War II on the heavy guns. Somewhere along the way his ears gave up.
Anyhow I was trapped. I was sitting in my seat sandwiched between people with an average age of 70-90 waiting for the numbers to be called. I could not believe it and me and dad really did not have an agreement to let me win, but he was calling all my numbers. My card was complete and so I said (actually shouted – I also have a loud clear voice) LOTTO and everyone turned and looked at me. Dad was surprised that his daughter had won. Of course he had to do a check with the numbers. I called the numbers I had crossed out and he nodded OK. I won £1 I believe. The golden oldies in the crowd did give me a few sideways glances, but no-one attacked with a walking stick.
We were then set for the next game, yes it was pure excitement. Now I really couldn’t help it. Perhaps I was trying to make my dad proud of his daughter, but I did it again. I now had £2. There were a few remarks from the crowd, but they let me live. The third time round I again had a full card, but this time there was a mistake. Dad told me I had a lulu because one of the numbers did not coincide. I was learning, never get conceited, you might have a lulu. Perhaps it was just as well, as the golden oldies all nodded in agreement and came to the conclusion that my dad and I did not belong to the lotto mafia.
I did not walk away, and I did not have a winning line. The afternoon came to a close and there were no fights, no injuries to be treated and everyone sat down to a cup of tea afterwards and some biscuits. I did not need a winning line, it was my first experience of being with the golden oldies and I won £2 into the bargain. Of course I told dad I did not want the money, but he looked at me if I was from another planet. You won it, you keep it, but don’t do any lulu’s the next time. I am still investigating what a “lulu” is, but I asssume it is an expression only known to lotto callers and their golden oldie audience.
All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain!
My "bump" was in 2016 when, aged 48, I suffered a stroke. This blog charts my recovery. (Header clipart licensed by pngguru.com.)
Retired and Enjoying Every Minute of It
I am Ahmed Abdi, a Wordpress blogger and storyteller who searches for stories that inspire people. I love writing because it’s a reflection of how I perceive the world around me. Lost in a world of endless chaos in my childhood, Unforgettable moments of tragedy and triumphs taught me the art of storytelling where I found myself through letter writing and then turned into stories but then sadly had lost everything I wrote for years. In 2018, I decided to create a Wordpress blog site that would allow me to store and retrieve every piece. Stories from my community, city and people are what make my writing so interesting and inspiring! I’m a tea lover so a cup of tea sometimes makes my blog.
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