I was listening to a fascinating discussion about luck on the Curious Cases podcast where one of my favourite people, Sir David Spiegelhalter, mentioned that in conversations we have with ourselves about good and bad luck, we rarely consider the luck of being born.

He gave the example of his father, who almost died during the war, an event which would have erased his own existence. And then there’s conception itself, the odds of your one sperm out of millions being the one to reach and fertilise the egg. What are the chances of that?

I don’t generally believe in luck, and if I did, I’d probably rate mine as neutral at best. I haven’t won the lottery yet or hit the big prize on the bonds, but I have also taken some risks, that despite the odds have paid off.

But if I were to evaluate my luck based solely on my chances of being born, or even being alive, I am incredibly lucky.

My mother was the first surviving child of my grandparents; they had several before her. She also tragically lost a baby before I was born. Had that child survived, I doubt I would be here today.

Her being educated was another stroke of luck. She had to be dragged from the claws of an overprotective father by government decree, and against the odds, she became a nurse.  This meant I was vaccinated and treated quickly for childhood perils like malaria, polio and typhoid. It also gave me access to a doctors note which got me out of many chores in boarding school but more importantly, access to education which has been proven to improve health outcomes.

Then there were a few brushes with death. Once I was caught in the middle of a violent riot on my way back from school and had to duck at the sound of bullets. Another time, I missed a devastating accident by mere minutes while catching a bus to school.

More recently, I was woken up to a strange grinding sound and discovered my kitchen filled with smoke, my smoothie maker had somehow turned itself on and caught fire.

Even pregnancy, a dangerous endeavour at the best of times was a gamble. Add complication like pre-eclampsia (twice) and I realise how precarious my survival and that of my children really was.

So, thinking about it, I am incredibly lucky.

And if you think you aren’t, perhaps you’re just looking for luck in the wrong place.