Let me tell you a little bit about anxiety... warning this is not for the fainthearted

My beloved nanna adored bingo and I loved spending time with her. So, when I was thirteen or fourteen, on a Friday evening we’d go to the tin mission hut filled with pensioners to play bingo. Eyes down your first number.

As the card filled with ink marks and, the numbers disappeared, my stomach would begin to churn. The bingo callers voice echoed through my head like jangling washing in a drum, vibrating, vibrating. Every local sound picked up, toffees being gnawed into submission by ancient teeth and slightly newer dentures. Hums and ahs, collective sighs of slightly scary grandmas poised ready for the call. To them it was almost their divine right to win the next game rather than Betty across the table who quite frankly was no better than she ought to be.

And so, with every sound magnified, breathing shallow and held, sick rising and falling (for me at least) hands clasping the pen tight with anticipation the numbers came. Two little ducks 22, “quack quack” we replied in unison. Age old responses mumbled back by rote. Five and nine “the Brighton line”. House!

A collective grumble, as women thwarted began to mutter desperately hoping that batty old Sheila had called in error, and they’d get another chance. No, it’s a winning line!?

Onto the next game and as the numbers fall, thick and fast, I’m back in with a chance and once again my body is tense with chemicals surging through me and everything in the room amplified and we’re ready, ready. Pens scratching on paper, women urging “come on 49”, “come on 61” and me “please, please, please … don’t let it be 1, don’t let it be me!” There I said it! My mind consumed by the terror of what might happen if I win. From out in the room “Kelly’s eye - noooo! - number 1.” Nobody else calls.

I frantically look at my card, trying to see my error, work out whether I have actually won. Say nothing, say nothing. What if I’ve ticked off the wrong number? What will the older women say? What will they think of me? What if everyone judges me under their beady stares? WHAT IF EVERYONE KNOWS I GOT IT WRONG! What if they make me go home! What a time waster! Flipping heck, I feel sick! If I wasn’t too embarrassed to stand up in front of everyone, I’d go to the loo, I desperately need it. Suddenly an elbow in the side and my nanna shouts “Ere she’s won.” (How did she do that? How did she play six games at a time herself and still notice what I was doing? Protecting me I suppose) and I’m wishing the roof of the old air raid shelter beneath us would cave in and swallow me up. They come and check my card and now I am in full public view. This is the worst day of my life. If I’ve got this wrong everyone is going to be angry with me. I will be judged! Judged! And then…It’s a winning card! It’s over!

For now, because we’re going again! “Eyes down we’re playing firstly for a line.” The dread begins again. It never got better. Fast forward twenty years and to bond with three women from work I go to a professional bingo hall with them. Now this makes my nanna, and her friends look like small fry. I’m swimming with the big fish now. It’s fast, it’s furious and it’s terrifying. No room for error, the room is pumped full of adrenaline and a desire to win (at any cost)! Some of the less agile pay extra to use electronic boards so they don’t miss. Once the next number is called you’ve missed your chance. Hesitate you lose! Loser, loser!

I chose not to call for three winning games that night, I was so glad!?There must have been five hundred people there to judge me had I called in error. Afterwards my colleagues made a few digs at me, I’d lost at least a hundred pounds, but I was just relieved to be out of there. Disappointed in me they never invited me back.

Years later and since moving to Wales we’ve been down to the seaside bingo a couple of times; bingo still always makes me feel close to my Nan. I love the bingo here because although you play your board, if you miss it, THEY tell you that you’ve won. How easy is that! You don’t let anyone down or make anyone angry! You know you are supported! You don’t feel sick at what might happen next. At last, I can just enjoy bingo!

Then last week we went to play bingo to raise funds for the beautiful church in our village of Llannefydd which they’re talking about closing. I played three cards at a time wondering how it would pan out. Again, as my cards fill, the familiar pull in my stomach begins to tug, I know this old “friend” anxiety now we’ve done a lot of work together.

This time though we laughed, we focused, we all wanted to win! At least one prize! Please! I won twice! Or should I say I called house twice, with confidence! I collapsed in giggles when I won the prize I’d donated, a Reiki treatment. I’d known that I was going to win it as the numbers fell, but this time I was thinking “this is going to be so funny when I call.” I left with two bottles of wine, a bottle of apple and black currant brandy, a bottle of port (yes we do seem to like a drink in this part of Wales!) and a few words with that younger version of me. I told her that I was, and am, incredibly proud of her for all the demons she has battled. She inspires me to do better every day. A celebratory drink? Cheers, don’t mind if I do! House!