Last night the deadline passed and the Great Prize remained unclaimed. Someone a few miles East of me missed out on £64 million.
But there is good news of course. First, the money will go to good causes which has to be better than the overseas property market and upmarket car dealerships where it would have gone. Secondly, there must be many very tidy houses in Hertfordshire as a result of corners being swept clean in pursuit of June's imagined lottery receipt.
One glaringly obvious possibility is that the purchaser is inconveniently dead. Becoming dead has many disadvantages when it comes to money and an inability to claim lottery prizes is just one of them.
Overwhelmingly more likely is another category: a living person who didn't expect to win. Maybe they bought the ticket on the way to a distant destination and never checked back; maybe they bought so many tickets that week that they cannot remember which tickets they did or not have; maybe they never check their tickets but just buy them on impulse assuming they will be found if they ever win.
In other words, either the person died or their dream died.
Somewhat the point of Advent is that, although the wait for God may be very long, it is not snatched away by death. And that everyone who dreams hope wins.
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