Grandma often told stories about her life with Grandad. Their honeymoon, “If you could call it that” she’d say was her introduction into his waywardness.
They were walking along the beach front when they came across a group of men standing in a circle watching cockroaches run about betting on which one would make it to the perimeter of the circle. Grandad was fixated and from that time he had an addiction to gambling. It took on all forms from the Saturday racing to wagering with his neighbor over who would grow the biggest tomatoes, when the first carrot plants would pop up, to who could make the better tomato relish.
He even bet on things like if mum was going to be a boy or girl, if mum when her time came was going to have twins, if we’d be red haired or blonde. His need to test fate went on and on.
Despite Grandma’s insistence that the watch remain in the pond she did enjoy Grandad tales.