“And the lucky number is … two hundred and forty, a green ticket.”
“Yes,” came a woman’s voice.
“That’s blue,” admonished a neighbour.
“Well someone must have it,” murmured the Chairman.
“Draw it again,” a man at the back shouted.
“Yes,” the Chairman agreed.
It seemed to take an age; there was considerable noise from the packed room.
The woman on the stage brandished a yellow ticket. “Number twelve,” she screamed.
“That’s me,” my ex wife called out.
“Congratulations Madame, you've won a weekend for two in Paris.”
“I’ve got no-one to go with,” she said, staring at me.