Will’s World: Lotto win fuels fantasy farm shopping spree

I’d quickly checked my emails before I headed off to the meeting, and there it was in the inbox, the message I’d been waiting all these years to receive: “Good news! You’ve won a prize on the National Lottery. Sign into your account to find out more.”

I was running a few minutes late, though, so despite the immediate rush of adrenalin from this momentous turn of events, I resolved to be patient and wait till I returned to see how much I’d won.

See also: What’s in Your Livestock Shed? visits a £200k suckler shed

About the author

Will Evans

Farmers Weekly Opinion writer

Will Evans farms beef cattle and arable crops across 200ha near Wrexham in North Wales in partnership with his wife and parents.

Read more articles by Will Evans

“Just focus on the meeting,” the angel on my shoulder whispered gently. “Don’t get carried away. It’ll probably only be a tiny amount,” he followed up sensibly.

But the devil, ah the devil. On the other shoulder, he excitedly jumped up and down, hollering that it was certainly multiple millions.

Having always been easily led astray, I succumbed to the temptation of the daydream as I drove, and I began to spend the money in my head.

Money for nothing

We’ll get the boring stuff out of the way first, I thought, and pay off all our debts. Then I’ll share the love and do the same for family and close friends. (If any of you happen to be reading this, don’t think for one minute that this magnanimous gesture on my part gets you out of buying your round in the pub; there’s a limit, you spongers.)

Next, I’ll get on the phone to the landlord’s agent and offer to buy the farm, and of course he’ll accept my lowball offer without so much as a quibble. That’s the way that daydreams work, after all.

Now that I own the place, I’ll start investing for the long term as well, finally replacing the crumbling brickwork and missing tiles on the roof of the house, as well as doing something about the drafts and damp walls. It’ll be a home fit for the 21st century, not the 19th.

Now for the farm itself. We’ll need a workshop – one of those cavernous shiny ones you see on American farms, with smooth floors, shadow boards with nothing missing (even the 13mm spanner), every power tool under the sun, and vintage advertising signs all over the walls.

I might even install a leather easy chair in the corner, with a beer fridge close by.

In there I’ll park the light blue 1972 Land Rover Series III that I’ll buy for doing the school run. Next to it will sit the 1994 Massey Ferguson 390T that I traded in years ago, which I’ll track down and buy back for restoration.

I must get on the phone to Claas and place an order for a brand-new combine on tracks with a gazillion-foot header, too.

Dream ticket

We’ll need that top-of-the-range indoor cattle handling system we’ve been dreaming about for years; no more getting cold and wet on the job for this multimillionaire farmer.

I might even buy myself a pair of decent wellies and a warm coat that doesn’t leak.

Of course, I’ll require a private box at the Principality Stadium for watching Wales, and I’ll pay for a new all-weather pitch at my daughters’ rugby club, too.

I might even take the present Mrs Evans away on holiday somewhere nice, and buy her something special for putting up with me for all these years.

Finally, the meeting was over and it was time to see how much I’d won. £10m? £15m?

“Congratulations – you’ve won £5!”

As always, I should’ve listened to the angel.