The long years took their toll on Jim until the joyful day that all his workmates cornered him and one was heard to
say "Our syndicate's won lotto, mate. It's worth three million, cool. We're all resigning. Ain't it great? The bloke who'd stay's a
fool."
Jim felt as if he'd found the wings he'd searched for all his life. He carefully considered things, then telephoned his
wife. "I joined a syndicate last June. Now, strike me pink, they've won, so pack your bags. I'll be there soon. It's time to have some
fun!"
Her mind arace, she thought of years without a hint of work, and holding on to all her tears, she did not go
berserk. "But shall I pack for sand or snow?" "Whatever I don't care. I'll only be an hour or so. Make sure you're not
still there!"
