A lot of words get written about
the "punting bank" but I doubt much has changed over
the years and I suspect the smart people have them and the serial
contributors to the various win pools don't.
When I was a kid growing up in Brisbane,
we quite often used to go over to my great uncle's place in the
leafy suburb of Greenslopes where they had a sprawling old Queenslander
built on stumps and a huge workshop underneath. Whenever we slept
over, we kids were always banished to the sleep out which we shared
with the biggest safe I had ever seen which was always locked.
It held great fascination for me as you can possibly imagine.
Uncle B was always in his "workshop"
downstairs in the mornings listening to the then racing station
4BK (which no longer exists) and in the afternoons he would simply
be no where to be found. Occasionally in the evenings he would
ask me to get him a bottle of Bulimba beer out of the special
fridge in his workshop, where he was allowed to drink, but was
banned from taking the dreadful stuff upstairs by Aunty P who
was a strict Presbyterian and played the organ at the local church.
Uncle B also had a milk run (back in the days when you used to
get the bottles home delivered) so I always guessed he got all
of his work done in the early mornings and that was that for the
He was of course running an SP book
in the afternoons at the local pub that was apparently quite successful
- well certainly successful enough to take himself and the lovely
Aunty P on an ocean voyage to Japan to see the 1964 Tokyo Olympics
which they later had endless slide evenings about showing off
all the sights of the far east.
None of this would ever have come
out of the family secrets cupboard except he had the misfortune
to get busted by the local constabulary and spent some time "working
for the government". Poor old Aunty P never quite got over
the shame of it all which of course never quite seemed as shameful
as when they were mixing with the "nice people" on the
Fairstar sailing to Japan and having a wonderful time!
As the story got discreetly passed
down through the family at the endless gatherings, the one thing
that still stood out to me was the big solid safe that was still
on the verandah when they eventually sold that home - probably
because it was just too heavy to move! Good old Uncle B later
told me how he funded the entire thing out of that safe, never
drawing on any family monies and old Aunty P never knew how much
was in there at any time.
The old bugger had a wonderful life
- his only moments of stress in gambling coming about when the
Detective Inspector from the Woolloongabba Police Station (used
to be just outside the Gabba) busted him in the act at the old
So - the moral to the story - and
there has to be one, doesn't there? Your punting bank MUST be
entirely separate from your living bank as, if you are in a relationship
with anyone, the "living bank" is for everyone to share
- not just for your selfish pursuits. To do otherwise is to be
unfair on people that may actually care about you.
And if you should lose this punting
bank, it is not going to cause chaos and havoc to anyone else
but you (deservedly) and you must suspend your gambling activities
until you can build up another one in a manner that does not cause
financial inconvenience to others.
If you don't, you'll be under more
psychological pressure "not to lose" and will consequently
keep making bad decisions under pressure. Similarly if you go
down the financial suicide path of borrowing money from a credit
card to fund the bank, the pressure will be even greater and the
"pendulum of disaster" becomes even wilder in the swings
and wreaks even more havoc. The end result is you being, as I
wrote at the start of this, a serial contributor, and I'm sure
you don't desire that fate.
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