I'm sure we've all fantasised about what we'd do if we won millions in the Lottery. The day job would be the first to go. You can just see yourself breaking the happy news to envious whey-faced colleagues before heading off to a hastily arranged news conference.
lutching that outsized cheque and glugging champagne for the whirring cameras, you've already drawn up the wish-list: big house, flashy cars, designer clothes, Cartier watch, a small army of flunkies who'll laugh at your pathetic jokes...
Of course, you'd show some largesse. After all, that's one of the most enjoyable parts of the fantasy, working out whose life you'd change... and whose you wouldn't.
Your generosity, however, would have its bounds. You're no Ebenezer Scrooge but nor are you a mug. You'd probably give away, um, 10% of your windfall, stashing the rest in high interest savings accounts and your burgeoning property empire.
Which makes Frances and Patrick Connolly's story all the more heart-warming. This week the Northern Ireland couple revealed that in the two years since they won £115m in the EuroMillions lottery, they've given away £60m - over half their fortune.
It's easy to dismiss their charity and carp that it still must be nice to have £55m in the bank making money. To scoff that it's easy to dole out cash when you have so much of it.
But be honest: if you'd the Connollys' millions would you be so open-handed and big-hearted? How much would be enough to finally put to bed those fears of everything going wrong, of ending up back where you started before the finger of fortune pointed at you? It may seem insane but it's human nature; such worries are hardwired into us.
Not for the Connollys though. In fact, quite the reverse - they started giving away money immediately and haven't stopped. In a revealing interview, Frances told my colleague Claire McNeilly that she's lost count of "the number of times I've cried my eyes out" at seeing a recipient's response to her generosity.
After helping their three daughters and more than 150 family and friends, they set up two charitable foundations - the Kathleen Graham Trust in Northern Ireland and the PFC Trust in Co Durham, where they now live.
One thousand pensioners in hospital on Christmas Day each will get a gift from the Connollys. Elderly care home residents can call loved ones on hundreds of electronic tablets bought by the couple. A refugee boy can travel to school because they pay his bus fares.
The pandemic has provided so many opportunities to help - buying sewing machines for a group making PPE for health workers, providing supplies for a charity making visors, funding hot meal deliveries, giving £50 thank-you vouchers for 150 frontline workers...
Maybe their desire to share their good fortune is down to a Northern Ireland sensibility. Another lottery winner, Belfast bus driver, Peter Lavery, loved treating others and set up the cross-community charity, The Rita Charles Trust, named after his mother. Maybe altruism runs in the genes. Coincidentally, The Kathleen Graham Trust is named after Frances' late mother who, she says, would have "played Lady Bountiful all over the place... she'd have had the money given away faster than me". Previously, Frances had made blankets for a baby unit in memory of her mum.
Maybe this place with its close-knit family ties fosters a certain down-to-earth approach to the high life. Many people would loathe being thought of as "too showy" or "losing the run of themselves".
Maybe being a bit older helps to keep your bearings and know the quiet benefits of routine. The Connollys are in their mid-50s but there has been no early retirement. Patrick owns several factories, while Frances rises at 6am to run their charities. There has been no swanky mansion either, but rather a modest - in the circumstances - five-bedroom bungalow, with swimming pool and tennis court.
Life experience undeniably informs our response to situations. Frances has a serious medical condition that impacts her mobility. "I actually spent about three years sitting on a chair because I couldn't really go anywhere or do anything," she says. One day she'll be in a wheelchair. "Health is wealth" is a cliche but no less true for being so.
The Connollys' story is fascinating. At a stroke, they became wealthier than anyone's wildest imaginings. It's a 21st-century materialistic dream, but also a modern morality tale.
History is full of unhappy rich people who made, inherited or won fortunes only to squander them on gambling, booze, drugs and love affairs. We've become inured to tales of hapless lottery winners who blew the lot on a jet-set lifestyle. For every rich person keeping their head and doing good deeds, there's a famous philanthropist driven mad by wealth. Look what happened to Howard Hughes, we console ourselves.
There's a comfort to be drawn from reading about foolhardy excess and the dark side of riches. The idea that it's too good to be true, that it could never last, that you're better poor but happy. That, in the end, money is the root of all evil and a curse.
But does it have to be? Really? No, says Frances Connolly, laughing off suggestions their win is a great burden. "This is just love and joy on a permanent basis," she says.
The couple praised Lottery staff for supporting them yet ultimately it's their own admirable personalities that have carried them through the most extraordinary change of circumstances.
They're level-headed, innately good and decent people. They were charitable souls before they won a bean. They're old enough to know life has its ups and downs, that sometimes others need a dig out or even just a bit of recognition. That a lonely elderly person needs to see a loved one come alive on the screen of an iPad.
The Connollys have a vast fortune but it's character and compassion that is their greatest asset of all.
