My bingo, this is hard work

Want to sharpen your mental agility? If so, I have the answer. Forget all those self-help manuals, computer games and memory techniques. Simply nip along to your local bingo hall.

I'd seen the queues outside the one near our house many times and everyone seemed to be in high spirits. It's one of the most popular pastimes in the country so, when my mates suggested we have a night out to celebrate my birthday (back in January - but we only just got around to it), I rejected a night club on the grounds that I'm far too old, and opted for an evening of eyes down.

And eyes down it was - in fact, the activity is so intense that if you manage to look up at all in the hour-and-a-half session, you're doing well.

It's hard work, is bingo. You collect your books and then it's pure, uninterrupted concentration - far worse than any examination.

The numbers are called at break-neck speed - it's almost impossible to keep up, let alone check your lines. I could have won ten times over and missed it. First you look for one line, then two, then it's full house. Not easy when you've six sets of numbers to play with. It was exhausting.

Yet some people were filling in half a dozen cards at once - flitting effortlessly between six long sets of numbers, wrists dabbing away at 90mph with their felt-tip pens.

These people were mostly pensioners, belonging to the age group written off as past it by most employers. Those company bosses obviously haven't been to bingo. If you ask me, the skills required to play the game are far and away more demanding than those needed in many a job.

We thought it would be a laugh, me and my friends. A bit of a giggle, where we could play the odd game and have a chat in between. It's nothing like that. After ten minutes my head throbbed and my wrist ached. My friends looked ashen and I was worried that one of them may not stay the course.

We went to bingo for a relaxing, fun night out. But you can't relax. You can't talk, you certainly can't laugh - in fact I felt conspicuous drawing breath during a game. A packed bingo hall in session makes a library seem like a rave.

And when someone calls house, a hushed gasp rises, before it's back to eyes down. The bigger the pot - you can win thousands - the bigger the gasp. I was terrified I'd win - all those eyes upon you. Imagine the embarrassment if you'd made a mistake.

It may be one of the most popular nights out, but it left me feeling mentally drained. The intensity, coupled with the flashing lights and neon, can send your head spinning. I felt like I'd just sat maths A-level in an amusement arcade.

Looking back, I'm glad I did it - although that comment is normally associated with endurance feats like climbing Everest - and I have a hero-like respect for those who find it a doddle. As for doing it again, I think next year you might just see me in the queue - outside a night club.

It will be interesting to see whether Prime Minister Tony Blair takes his two weeks paternity leave when his fourth child is born in May.

Cherie Blair clearly wants him to do so. If he did take advantage of the time off, it would certainly set an example to those employers who Mrs Blair criticises for their inflexibility and ignorance of family needs.

Yet somehow I don't think the Prime Minister will, anymore than he is likely to introduce financial help for working women, who find the cost of child care consumes virtually the entire contents of their wage packet.

Mrs Blair, who has pledged to return to work after the birth, would no doubt nag her husband into action if she fell into that category.

27/03/00

If you have any comments you would like to make, contact features@ycp.co.uk

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.