Charity Raffle Ticket - Reply: Fill & Download for Free

Oh yes - and also had the pleasure of watching them & their ridiculous ego perfectly schooled!Approximately 5 years ago a local woman was doing a fundraising event to raise money for a relatively rare & relatively unknown medical condition. Now this fundraising event meant she would go about her daily business for the whole month of February wearing only pyjamas! In public, in the north of England. In winter. Shopping, socialising, attending functions (including a wedding which the bride and groom were genuinely thrilled about and even made their guests contribute on the day too! They have a fantastic set of wedding pictures and a great tale to tell of their day! lol) basically if it was a normal thing to do within that month, she was doing it in her pyjamas - so think about that for a minute, all the appointments you attend, lunches, nights out, cinema, banking, shopping… Yeah, with the rainy English winters not the smartest move but it certainly caught your eye and raised awareness (at that time it really wasn't THAT common to see women wander around the supermarkets in onesies & rollers during the day or at least not as common as it is today!)So anyway, the particular charity gave her publicity, one of the local newspapers gave her publicity, social media profiles helped etc etc but being a small town, word of mouth was the major advertiser of the local buzz & people began to talk about this local woman shopping in pyjamas with her collecting tin, and money was being raised nicely. All the big local businesses had been contacted, mostly asking for donations for a raffle to be held at climax of a month of fundraising - a full-on Pyjama party in a large town centre pub! There were local bands playing, cocktails created, the pub was being decked out for the occasion, bar staff donated their time & wages,the chef donated food for the night, a local dj volunteered his services, photographers offered their time and services, the manager donated goods and some of the bar take, he publicised on their social media and now realising the publicity was gaining momentum every day, more & more extravagant & expensive gifts were donated for the raffle to be held on the night. It was all snowballing nicely.Now up to this point all the local & regional media has been contacted & with the exception of 1 local rag (that was actually owned by a huge national group), all the reporters & journos jumped in to help enthusiastically & kept the buzz & awareness going. However there was this one particular newspaper that had ignored all phone calls, personal visits, emails, press releases, and even Mr. Joe Public’s enquiries to their local office asking what they knew of this strange woman wandering around in nightclothes in the rainy windy High Street! They couldn’t have been less interested and seemingly ignored the whole thing. No call or email was even even acknowledged.The journos however who did follow up, met a lady who was naturally very shy & far from outgoing. She was also suffering from this condition & a little overwhelmed not to mention struggling a little from being in the public eye in such a visible way but was determined to raise awareness of this invisible killer & raise the desperately needed funds to help the charity who so helped her & her family. Her determination became infectious, more & more people wanted to give of time, money & effort to make the final night a huge success. People were really enjoying the idea of a legitimate night out in their pyjamas and having loads of fun planning it too, The idea really seemed to take off!So the night of the big pyjama party arrived, and the pub was crashed out! The local bands played all night in their pyjamas, they brought their friends who came & stayed in their pyjamas, who told others who came in theirs and everyone attending came in their pyjamas too - everyone enjoyed the relaxed novelty of it! The bar tills were ringing, the raffle tickets were selling out faster than they could restock them, food was eaten, fun was had, laughter & cocktails were flowing - the event went start to finish like a dream! Local takeaways offered a one-off discount for people coming in to buy food that night in their pyjamas, even the local cabbies got on board! Obscene amounts of money were raised, awareness was raised & everyone proclaimed the event to be a huge success, the lady herself even performed a hysterically funny ceremony at midnight, timed with the bell calling for last orders at the bar being rung by the local ‘Miss Seasidetown’ in a Cinderella/fairy godmother-esque comedy routine where she changed back into regular daytime clothes and was deafened by rapturous applause & laughter.So half an hour later, with the final patrons leaving the bar, the bands dismantling their stages and packing equipment away, bar staff clearing up & this woman was sitting at the bar for a well-earned break of 5 minutes peace & a drink. At this point a man in slightly crumpled shirt and smart trousers rushes in & straight to the bar, only to curse like a sailor when the staff said they’d already called last orders. He then threw his bag onto the bar, swore a little more and sank onto the barstool next to this lady. She smiles at him and asks him if he’s had a bad day? Kicker to miss last orders.Crap day he said, but he’s sorted. He’s a reporter actually, he says, cue what he assumes is a winning smile, and he was due to cover some stupid small time fundraiser but its Friday night ffs, drinking with his mates time, hes not gonna miss that for ‘some lonely attention seeking cow wearing fu@king pyjamas in public thinking she can chuck a fiver at a charity and call it newsworthy just cos shes too lazy to get dressed’ and rolls his eyes laughing.The lady just laughed with him as he now eyes the room, almost empty & comments on how few people are there, and how he’s glad he made the right call, can’t have been a good night… Alas it seems he didn’t seem to notice neither the time nor how the lull of conversation had suddenly stopped as had the urgency of people to get done and gone…Anyway, he’ll ‘give the ‘poor cow’ a few inches in the paper, you know make her feel better and that’ he says. ‘Has anyone seen the wobbling wincy-ette wonder?’ Rolling the words with a Guffaw guffaw..Still the lady smiled at him & laughed. She calmly sipped her drink and asked had he made any specific plans to meet her? Arranged to interview her or anything? (At this point I should note although he was behaving like a jerk she was still panicking inside it was her fault and that maybe she’d missed his call or email) when he laughed again and said he didn’t need to, SHE needed HIM not the other way around, of course she’d have the time to talk to him, and he’d even take a picture on his cellphone for her, he might see if he could get that into print, you know, next to his picture obviously, give the readers a laugh seeing someone out in public looking a state in M&S’s best flannel nightwear…Again she sipped her drink and nodded, suggesting the man call her to see where she was. Again he snorted with derision and uttered those immortal words ‘Lady, do you even know who I am? I’m THE big shot reporter around here, she should be calling me and be grateful I’m even here! Least she could do was hang around to speak to me! You’d think she’d welcome the publicity, jeez!’‘You’d think, ‘ said the women sliding off the stool ‘But some people have no manners’It was at this point that the reporter noticed the the mood had more than subtly changed around him, people were looking at him none too kindly right now including the lead singer of the headline band making a beeline towards him with a face full of fury, and also at this point he realised this singer had very similar facial features to the well-dressed young lady in front of him, who was now busy folding a beautiful & sexy pair of lilac silk pyjamas and black silk bathrobe into her bag, whilst constantly being interrupted by lots of people hugging and congratulating her on a fantastically fun and successful evening that was enjoyed by so many. It was also at this point the reporter made the sharpest exit I have ever seen, and I have no doubt he never uttered those words again, certainly not within that job title as he was fired the following day for not following up on THE story that was the buzz of the town. Of course the other journos had all attended and thoroughly enjoyed their night attesting to it with their newspapers pages filled the following week and for weeks to come with lots of features about the night, people claiming their superb raffle prize wins and local business proud to boast they'd been part of it as well as the many pictures of the revellers across the town that night in various forms of nightwear covering the entire range of age and styles filling social media!That lady had so wanted to reply ‘Do you know WHO I am?’ but its so out of her character to do that. She didn’t do any of it for her, but for the cause she wanted to help and promote. She was more than a little naive and short-sighted in not realising just how much she’d be thrusting herself in to the spotlight; she hadn’t intended it to be about her but more what she could achieve and do for others, she hadn’t realised how much work she’d taken on but thanks to the kind help of others she did raise a phenomenal amount for charity as well as massive awareness of an invisible illness that can kill, benign Pituitary tumours. Her only intention was that maybe one day that awareness saves a life, or the money raised helps medical research or helps the charity - The Pituitary Foundation - to be able to support others in need the best way they can through knowledge, information and literature as well as the telephone helplines and internet presence they maintain both to health care professionals, patients and their carers too, but she’s happy just for more understanding, more acceptance that just because you can’t see the illness doesn’t mean someone isn’t suffering in a multitude of ways with it, and just knowing she made a difference.I don’t know who that reporter thought he was but I do know who she is - Yes, that was me.much lovexx

I can remember my Dad spanking me three times…. I can’t be absolutely sure but those were likely the only 3 spankings I ever got.I was about 3 years old, and we were outside ‘doing yard work’ - well, my parents and Sis were, but they kept shooing me away because I was too little. Meanwhile, my parents were discussing what they would get at the market after they finished on the yard - it was autumn, and they were raking leaves. So, since I knew the way to the supermarket (a full mile away!), I decided to help out by going shopping for them. Just one thing: I had no money. I didn’t even realize you needed money, because my Mom’s folks had a corner grocery store and I never saw Mom give them any cash for what she got there. (Plus I was too short to see over the counter!)So, I selected my two cans of asparagus and a six -pack of those little boxes of raisins and headed for the register where “Do you know, Mommy - when the lady puts your stuff in the bags, they want money there!!!” What a shock!But that wasn’t the worst of it: when they realized I wasn’t with anyone, they wouldn’t let me go home like I wanted. And of course since I was upset I couldn’t remember my phone number…… people recognized me from the neighborhood, but nobody was certain they knew who I was.Soooooo, they made me go outside where an older lady was behind a table selling tickets for a charity raffle: they figured someone was more likely to see me that way. It was getting darker, and colder, and of course I wasn’t dressed for that. So the nice older lady tried to help me stay warm, holding me in her lap and sharing her hot coffee with me (this may be why I have no interest in coffee!): I should mention that I was highly suspicious of anyone with gray hair at that age, so I wasn’t very happy to begin with. But I was cold and the coffee was hot….I don’t remember my parents finding me, or bringing me home - just my father standing over me and giving me that spanking. Of course I was outraged: I’d gone and walked all that way and crossed all those streets just to help them out, and this was how they thanked me?!?! My indignation had no words - as indeed their panic and desperation had had none! After a few smacks, I started yelling back at Daddy, telling him he was being ‘impossible’ (or what passed for that) - he was too upset so he went away and sent Mom in…….and Mom was hysterical herself and told me Daddy was being mean because he was AFRAID and men don’t know how to be afraid so he got angry instead. (this was the mid-1950’s)… That’s when I got the chance to tell her why I ‘ran away’ and how all the other adults wouldn’t let me go home. I wasn’t ‘being bad’ at all!!!My parents both disagreed - although in hindsight they didn’t seem to get it that NOT giving me a ‘job’ to do while the rest of them were working had been a contributing factor. I suppose they discussed it between themselves when they had a chance.So there was a new rule: I was not allowed to go off alone until I’d told someone ‘adult’ (meaning not Sis, who was only 3 years older than me) *and they said ‘Yes, you may go’* - and I also had to tell them where and when I would be coming back. That, of course, meant I had to have a watch - and to learn how to tell time. So I guess that episode wasn’t a total loss, except to my dignity.Hmmm, having realized how long this was, I’ll put #2 and #3 in separate ‘replies’. But for now I’ve got to justify my existence to the household…..those planters won’t fill themselves and it’s way too nice to stay inside!In general, I would say my parents recognized that ‘violence is the last resort of the incompetent’ : they tended to make me look up synonyms (and use properly in a sentence) if I ‘cussed’ , or do a ‘report’ on what could happen to little girls who played with matches.As one of my friends recalled of her parents “I think any time we got ‘overly’ punished, it was more about them than about us”…..and having become a parent, I think that is very true.

The main reason is people live under the illusion that they will suddenly make loads of money and retire for the rest of their life. Live on a yacht or massive house or drive the most expensive car.To that end they are prepared to spend (in the UK now £2 per line) what they see as a small amount in the hope that they will millions. The statistical probability of winning 8 numbers out of 40 ball lottery is about 13.8 Million to one against- not 20:1 as people seem to thing. The same goes for “scratch cards”, which are about a £1 but probably sell even more than the main lottery.A lottery is simple to operate you are using other people’s retail outlets so little or no administration costs for the Government either by State or as in the UK a National Basis. The person who processes the lottery ticket for the system from the gambler (as that is what they are) pays a hire fee to the operator (so double whammy for the Government in the UK) for the machine off-set by a percentage of the takings by the person accepting the bet.Indeed it must be a good money maker since it is no longer the likes of Governments who have these fund raisers (which are a long way from the old raffle!) as certainly in the UK we have so many so called charities who have their own Lotteries or “lotto” , even one for our NHS which is a bit of a joke (despite the pressure they are under with this COVID 19 business) as that is supposed to be paid for by the National Insurance system in the first place.On a more serious note (or at least for me who see’s people in financial distress) those who have low incomes or indeed near bankrupt, are the one most likely to be tempted in the idea of winning large amounts of money, but at the same time spending money they don’t really have to spare in the first case.Although many disliked the late Margaret Thatcher and her ways, even she was supposed to have replied to the person who suggested that we have a “national lottery”: her reactions was: “over my dead body”. Even she could see the persons who were most likely to be tempted and not afford to lose the stake they were laying out. When I used to pick up my paper on a Saturday, the queues were out of the door of some shops. You could tell by the way these people were dressed and spoke and indeed their age, that they were the last people who could afford to lose the money. What was more these people were not just spending the£1 (at that time) on a ticket they were buying may be 5 tickets.At that time a person on unemployment benefit was on £58 per week; and the State Pension, at best £78 per week. That meant that some people were paying 15% of their gross income on effect gambling, in the vain hope they were becoming millionaires. Add to that the way the who system is advertised on TV, with all these lotteries whether it be the National Lottery, NHS Lottery “Peoples Lottery”, and even local “charity” lotteries; every one has jumped on the band waggon.So it is clearly taxation, but more to the point on the most gullible and those who can least afford the money. Then in the next breath the Government “expresses concerns about compulsive gambling” !Rather like Thatcher I was dead against the Lottery, in all its forms and still am and as a “fund raiser” the biggest (legal) fraud created and as the person posing the question, yes indeed it is a revenue creator.Chris R- London