sadly, nobody wanted England

[incandescens]

Started selling tickets at work for the World Cup sweepstake today. (We're doing it at a pound a ticket, and splitting the prize for the first/second/third, £17/£10/£5.) The tickets went quite fast, and if I hadn't insisted that it would be only one ticket per person at the moment, they'd all be gone by now. (I had to hold onto a few for a couple of coworkers who won't be in till tomorrow.)

While the first item of curiosity was always "what did I just draw?" the second was generally "what did everyone else draw?" or "who got country A?" Brazil (the current favourite, I am now aware) went about midway in the day, at which point the person who'd drawn it attempted to talk me into changing the prize money to "winner takes all". General opinion was against him. :)

I admit that I drew Belgium, who is apparently a mid-range possibility. I will also admit that I wandered down to the betting shop afterwards and put a couple of pounds on them to reach the final, because it would be so irritating if they did get that far and I didn't have any money on them. I will even admit to putting a pound on Ivory Coast, a very long shot, because my coworker who is known for always being incredibly lucky in sweepstakes/raffles/etc drew them, and, well...

... I have my superstitious moments.

(Besides, if they do get to the final, at forty to one, well. Even a pound will have been worth it.)

---

Quill didn't know if he could trust this. He had found, standing in the head of that statue, that he was being forced to close his eyes, and when he'd opened them he was elsewhere, looking at a strange figure. The ferryman was, depending on which side you saw him from, either a cloaked figure with skeletal hands or an Asian cabbie with tobacco stains on his fingers. He was pushing the boat forward across the river of silver which warped under and around them, his staff of many wrapped dimensions made out of the pink flatness of the Hammersmith and City line as seen on a tube map. Or he was driving across a bridge that didn't exist, going north across the Thames, the road lined with a million spikes, the tarmac ahead red with blood that was flowing down to meet them. "I don't normally go south of the river," he said.

-- The Severed Streets, Paul Cornell

Comments

[amethyst-hunter.livejournal.com]

May your superstition pay off for you. Handsomely. :)

(Can't win if you don't play, is what I always say when I indulge the occasional lottery ticket. And Powerball is inching up ever-higher... :D )

[incandescens]

One never knows, and the World Cup comes but once a year. (Thank goodness.)

[flemmings.livejournal.com]

I thought it was once every four years, and thank goodness.

[incandescens]

... you're absolutely right. Shows how much I know about it. :)

[flemmings.livejournal.com]

When you live in a very Italian town with a substantial Portugese population as well, you learn to distinguish World Cups from Euro Cups. The former at least has the possibility of Cote d'Ivoire winning, followed by blissful silence; the latter means some road near me will be closed to traffic for several days.

[incandescens]

Heh. That must be irritating, yes.