I only play the Lottery and that's not often at all. I win the £3 and £5 and, sometimes a little more, but it's only enough to fund a few more lines another week. I don't have a system (obviously), but I DO ALWAYS play the Lottery if strange coincidences with words have occurred during the day. Say...if we're watching telly or listening to the radio...and someone says a word immediately after one of us, here, has used it in a sentence (you know how weird that is, right?), I use the numbers the letters in that word represent (ie. a=1 etc.) and enter into the very next Thunderball (because that's only a quid and easier to win). If the word is longer or shorter than I need, I do my best to decide how to interpret it (you see how logical all this is, yeah?)...and I also add the numbers for the letters that make up my name and the names of the two daughters who live with me. So...that's four quid every now and again...and I actually do well out of that. Not every time, but it's just a bit of fun, isn't it.
My dad bet on 'the horses' like anything. He had a system and he had huge, thick books full of statistics that went back years. He actually won money from it, but not millions. It was an amazing hobby for someone who enjoyed horseracing. My mum was always on at him to stop risking money like that (they both worked, btw). So he told her he would give it up if she packed up smoking 40 a day, which was a definite no win situation in his eyes. One day she did...so he immediately gave up betting...just like that...cold turkey. I was seriously impressed and proud. Then, years later, she started smoking again...so he began betting again....just like that...straight back into his books of statistics. Can you believe...he actually packed it in, without hesitation for years in between. So...that would mean...his previous years of gambling on the horses was not an addiction?
He didn't go to the pub and get pissed as much during that time, either. He always said his winnings helped to pay for his beer, his dart flights and his guitar strings. He loved playing guitar more than drinking, I guess, because he never once stopped doing that...and only went to the pub when he was called in for darts tournaments. I have a picture somewhere of him being presented with a teasmade, or something, by Keith Deller, after he won a competition. That is a very strange photo. It's black and white...and there are a couple of other people standing with them. Very sinister scene indeed. My dad was a weird one. Good weird. Extremely glad it skipped a generation...phew!
Sorry if any SPAG mistakes, I'm currently trying to eat a plate of chicken without my dog climbing on to my chest and nicking bits. I'll just hit post...here you go...