His constant refrain is ‘Not bad for a bus driver on £18,000 a year, eh!’ (puff of the cheeks, bang of the table). Though if there is one area about which he is overly defensive – perhaps with good reason – it is any suggestion that the money might have changed his personality or shaped his relationships. He gets gimlet-eyed when I ask him if being a lottery winner makes forming new relationships difficult. And he is visibly irritated by the expectations we all have of lottery winners and by any assumption that the practicalities of his life are different from those of the rest of us. For instance, when I ask him where he buys his food these days (a silly question but we all like knowing this stuff) he tells me he gets a plane to London to go to Waitrose. After a pause, he barks, ‘Where do you think I f***ing go?’ The answer to this, by the way, is Tesco, ‘Marksies’, Sainsbury’s, Spar – yes, Spar! – and the local butcher for meat.