Perhaps gambling addicts will always regret that interaction. The consequence of nature and nurture. I can't blame them if they have been scared by the affects of addiction.
My Dad was the influence of my gambling. I doubt he ever questioned the effect it may have on me as a child or grown up. This was back in the 1970s where very few parents considered the implications of their many vices. My parents smoked, drank (not too excess) and gambled. In fact, when we were about 9 years old we'd go to the local social club on a weekend (Buffalo Club) with our parents. It was a time when smoking was the norm and ventilation wasn't much cared about. By the time it was 10pm the room was filled with smog. You couldn't see the far wall for the smoke of cigarettes and cigars. I'm convinced the more dense the fog the better time they had. Perhaps the lack of visibility gave ample opportunity to do something they shouldn't. My eyes would sting and the next day my jacket would smell like I'd smoke 50 John Player Special. No one questioned the ill affects of the smoke or the fact as young children we would be playing the fruit machine which had a top prize of £50. That was a good amount of money back in the day. Dad would put the money in and we would stand next to him pressing the button or hold for the reels. We loved it.
I'm sure in this age people would question the ethics or such parental guidance or wonder if it was moral and fear the impact it may have on our later life.
Thankfully I grew up with an understanding that slots (fruit machines as we called them back in the day) were about the most addictive form of gambling. I always found them very boring in later life and left them well alone. I've never been much of a drinker (even less so now days) and never smoked.
So perhaps the experience wasn't such a bad thing. I'm sure statistically it does influence later behaviour and I wounder if I had smoked, drank and gambled too excess perhaps I would be dead before the age of 54.
My Dad always loved the horse racing and betting an each-way Yankee. A very popular bet in its day but not so much these days with the likes of the Lucky 15 taking its place. Dad wasn't a favourites man. If he could be called anything, he was an outside man. If there was a 25/1 shot running at Yarmouth you could guarantee it would feature in his bet. For that reason he had very few Yankees come up. Its not easy to get four winners at the best of times but when they all have a starting price of 25/1+ it is pushing the boundaries.
I guess he was thinking if they all come up it would be a retirement bet.
We could all do with one of those.
So my brother and I caught the horse racing/gambling bug from my father. It was a generation of gamblers. Like father like son. People had less things to entertain them so they would place a bet. Every September family and friends would go to Great Yarmouth's Eastern Festival. Three days of gambling on the horses and every evening at the greyhounds. For many, their holiday had vanished into a bookmaker's satchel within a couple of days. I've heard others say a couple of hours!
Dad wasn't an informed gambler. He didn't really study the form. Perhaps follow a few horses and enjoy a small bet. As children, our pet cat Pogel was named after a winning horse Pogel's Wood. It must have been a nice win for our kitten to a beneficiary by name at least. Sure the money came in handy too.
My brother and I have followed two-year-old horse racing from about 16-years old. It is our specialist subject even to this day. In fact, there are very few (if any people) who know more after polishing the stone for 30+ years.
When we were younger, we'd always want people to realise how good we were at gambling. That was a mistake. No one every believes you can beat the bookies and there is a stigma to anyone who proclaims themselves to be a gambler. I guess it's one of those things which people say: 'Don't gamble' thinking they are doing you a favour. Perhaps for many they are. But it always irritated me in ways. That was very much the naivety of youth. Dad was a wise man and he said these following words: 'If I knew something no one else did, I would just smile and keep it to myself.'
Without question we was correct.
And later in life I would appreciate those words.
To this day we make a merry pilgrimage to Great Yarmout's Eastern Festival to remember Dad and all the people who sadly no longer with us.
I look into the grandstand and say: 'Thank you, Dad.'
I'm sure he is watching from above and smiling down on us.
Photo: 1974 JC [Sandra, cousin, Nana Polo, Tony, brother, Dad, and me) Ciaster-on-sea Ladbroke's Camp site
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