180 DAYS

By David C. Garland

CHAPTER ONE

SATURDAY 25 OCTOBER, 2003

James Oswald Neville, Jon to his family and friends, unfailingly buys tickets for the two main lottery draws that take place each week.  He always selects the same numbers and has done so ever since the UK lottery launched in 1994.  On Saturday and Wednesday evenings he purposely avoids the televised draw in order to extend his hopes of winning until he sees the actual numbers published in the newspapers the following morning.  This is Jon Neville’s ritual and nothing will persuade him to change. To do so, believes Mr. Neville, would signal the end of his lottery-winning destiny.

Over the years he has won small amounts.  Never one to keep actual records Jon recalls, on reflection, that four of his numbers came up eight times and three numbers ten times.  Nevertheless he remains convinced that, one day, all six of his numbers will manifest themselves in a draw and he will claim the fortune he firmly believes is destined to come his way.

He assiduously places each week’s lottery ticket in a black leather wallet, bearing the initials JON in gold leaf. There is a concealed pocket in the wallet behind the section where he keeps his driving license and car insurance. The pocket is so cleverly designed that he delights in asking family and friends if they can find it. Frustrated, they always admit defeat and Jon chuckles reassuringly to himself. 

 ‘Money well spent,’ he thinks, remembering the day he bought the wallet at an exclusive jeweller’s in London’s Regents Street some years ago. The gold lettering was added later by another jeweller who owed him a favour.

Another part of Jon’s ritual, also strictly adhered to, is the venue where he buys the weekly ticket – always the Elephant and Castle branch of Tesco supermarket, almost a mile from his home. There are shops much closer where he could enter his numbers and pay over the money.  Instead, he walks (never drives) to the same branch of Tesco each Friday and hands over the same dog-eared entry form. Every few weeks he has to re-write the entry because the lottery machine erroneously mistakes deeply etched creases for entries.  He willingly, happily, hands over two pounds for the two weekly draws. Finally he reverses the ticket, adds his name and slips it with assurance into the secret compartment in the black leather wallet.

 His unshakeable belief never waivers - he knows unequivocally his fortune is stored in the cupboard of fate – and the key to the cupboard is the lottery ticket. What he doesn’t know is exactly when the cupboard will be opened!   Mary, his wife, knows little of Jon’s ritual except to witness his joy when three or four numbers come up infrequently.

‘Jon, you are completely mad’, she says with a gentle shake of the head, ‘people like us don’t win the lottery!’

 Jon just taps his nose knowingly and answers with a confident smile, ‘Just you wait my dear, just you wait!’

Now 68 years of age, Jon retired from a lifelong job as a London taxi driver three years ago.

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