Who wants to be a millionaire?

I have recently finished reading the Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? book. It was a memoir from Chris Tarrant about all the contestants that meant something special to him. It made me sick. All those people earning thousands just for answering a couple of questions correctly. Who wouldn’t love £500,000 for a half hours work? But if I went on there, you can guarantee the questions would be horrible and I would struggle to get to £1,000. And that’s assuming that I didn’t pass out from the fear of being on television first.

Everybody dreams of being a millionaire, don’t they? I’ve heard counter arguments from people that live to work. If they didn’t need the money, and they didn’t have to work, they don’t know what they would do with themselves. But what you have to remember is, it’s not about quitting the working world completely, it’s about being secure in the knowledge that you don’t need the money, and that you can pick and choose what you want to do.

I don’t want to work with numbers. I do it because it pays good money. If I had money behind me, I would do something I want to, instead. Something behind the scenes at the theatre, or in computers or something. I could work part-time and spend the rest of the time writing, baking, designing, travelling, and taking photographs.

The thing about having money behind you is that it gives you choices. You don’t have to work, but you can if you want. You don’t have to have a house with a swimming pool, but you can if you want to. You don’t have to live in Monaco, but you can if you want to. You don’t have to go to millionaire style parties on the off chance you might bump into Jenson Button, but you can if you want to.

Seeing as I will never apply for Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, and I don’t play the lottery, I suppose I shall have to be content with my lot. But now that I come to sit and think about it, and count my blessings, it’s really not a bad lot.