I’m afraid of gambling. Especially where money’s concerned. If I have to bet, I bet small and with fear in my heart. I’m ruled more by the fear of losing a tenner than by the prospect of winning a hundred. I guess that’s an expression of some kind of deeply rooted pessimism.
I believe in my possessions. I’ve got them there in my hands. I can touch, smell, feel the money I’ve got. Those would-be millions don’t crystalise in my head in the way that I suspect they do in the mind of the serious gambler.
Ultimately, that’s why I always say no to card games where there’s money involved. While my mates embark on their foolhardy games, with piles of money on the table, I crouch in the corner barely able to watch. I’m envious of the winners, sure, but never enough to get involved.
