For us, at this stage in our lives when we are no longer distracted and busy with the demands of a young family, the pleasure of sitting together at leisure during a prolonged breakfast is enhanced by reading through newspapers and bringing to one another's attention items of mutual interest ranging from local matters to international affairs.

So when, as happened this morning, there was no newspaper delivery of either of the two dailies we subscribe to, one local the other national, we're left at a bit of a loss. Reading is so integral to the needs of our minds, and in the morning, the newspapers are our material of reading-choice.

So, my husband did as he often does on such occasions, drove off for a brief foray in search of replacement newspapers to serve as our morning source of news. There is a newspaper box at the end of our street, at the junction where it meets a busy main street, but since this is also the day of a public holiday (explaining why no local paper has been published) the box hasn't been filled.

Off he went then, to a stand-alone nearby-located store serving the immediate area selling everything and anything people might want to pick up as last-minute or emergency requirements available close at hand rather than having to go further to often-crowded and busy shopping centres or supermarkets, all now given to the big-box appearance with all the frustrations those emporiums provide along with their service.

Waiting in line to be served with his two newspaper purchases, he watched somewhat incredulously as elderly patrons lined up to buy their morning share of lottery tickets. One woman in the line spent $100 on lottery and scratch-and-win tickets. The man standing behind my husband explained, as a constant patron of the store, that these are regular clients, people coming by repeatedly throughout the course of any given week, spending hope in funding to whatever amount it takes, to gamble that they may, at some time in their lives, come away winners.

You'll note, the stranger said sagely, to my husband, that these people are so fixated by their hope to win something that they'll return to their vehicles, sit there and frantically scratch through the cards, prepared to find one that will declare their hopes and searches and dollars spent will not have been in vain. And he was right, as my husband exited there were indeed people seated in cars immersed in the very activity that the man had predicted.

They are so fundamentally drawn to the belief that they will some day be compensated for their expenditures on these tickets that their habit represents a life-solace, a search for meaning in their lives. If, by chance, any of them ever did win the jackpot, it's likely life would no longer have any meaning for them, it seems.