Doubling Down for Christmas

 Last summer, I developed an ambitious plan for 2025. I would buy a house near the beach. I’d get a fancy new SUV, maybe that new American one which does seven miles to the gallon. I had thought long and hard about acquiring a kangaroo from my Australian cousin as a house-pet, but after consideration, I was worried that it might lose its cool and punch the butler.

One has to make small sacrifices when planning one’s life following a windfall.

Of course, I’d continue writing my weekly Business over Tapas, with all those useful items about Spain, even if I spent half the year staying in a vacation-home in Hawaii with last-year’s Miss Milwaukee.

However, and inexplicably, my Christmas lottery number didn’t come first past the post; in fact – as usual – the damn thing was something of an also-ran.

So, OK, the Sunday celebrations were tearfully cancelled and I stayed in bed gloomily reading a book about home-economics.

I think it’s a pretty-good investment, though. For anything up to six months, one can enjoy a flutter of hope in winning a massive prize which, even after paying back 20% to the Government in tax – the self-same folk who print up and call the lottery in the first place – is going to see you back on top.

Now, that’s not a bad bet for just twenty euros.

The mathematical probability of winning the jackpot is precisely zero. But, who cares about that? The chances of me finding five euros down the back of the sofa yesterday were about the same, but here I am today, enjoying café and una tostada up at the High Table.

If you want to double your investment, by buying two decimos and thus having twice as big a chance of winning el Gordo, well sad to say… the same odds apply: zero again.

The only prize that does come along – sometimes – is to get un reintegro: your money back if the winning number ends in the same as your ticket. One chance in ten.

And yes, I was lucky enough to win such a prize (it probably comes from me diligently not walking under any ladders since last August, from tossing a cupful of salt over my left shoulder every now and again and saying ‘white rabbits’ in a commanding voice at the onset of each calendar month).

So, back I go to the expendería and with the money won, I buy a new ticket for Los Reyes, the Three Kings. But perhaps I’ve been setting my sights too high and should be more reasonably aiming for a second prize.

Let me see: a second-hand car, a subscription to Netflix, maybe a weekend in Marbella…