And those in the cheap seats…
… Rattle your jewellery*
*John Lennon.
Recently two posts caught my eye - first Dani was talking about her wedding and engagement rings with her eldest son, and then someone else was upset over losing her wedding ring from a small dish in her kitchen. I couldn’t imagine how horrible that would be. My mother and I are definitely jewellery people. My grandmother definitely isn’t - she lost her engagement ring a few years and didn’t seem too upset about it. But I got it from my mother. I would take jewellery over almost anything else given the choice.
My mother has three rings which are usually found on her left ring finger. Her wedding ring, which she wants to be buried with. Her engagement ring, which is a gorgeous dark sapphire surrounded by diamonds, and her eternity ring, which is a sapphire and diamond strip. My dad gave her it not long after I was born. They’re both set in gold which I don’t wear, and I fully intend having them reset into something I will wear when she dies. (We talk like this all the time in my family, and somehow it’s okay.)
I have had two engagement rings. Both from Himself, I hasten to add. The first one was bought nearly 7 years ago when I was nowt but 16, from a shop in Durham. Himself was on the dole at the time, which was £40 a week, and my ring cost £20. It was CZ and silver and I had to have it made smaller. I wore it every day until I was 20. Then my cousin (kind of) made me an engagement for rather more than £20 and I love it so much. It’s white gold, with a cut diamond in the middle and three little diamonds on each side. It’s got 7 stones and that makes me happy, because there’s 7 letters in my name.
When it came to be time for buying wedding rings, I had no idea what I wanted. I tried on a thousand, I swear. None were quite right. We went back to my cousin. He made me a D-shaped white gold band with - you guessed it - 7 little diamonds set into it, slightly off centre, closer to my hand. They complement each other gorgeously, and I also like that if I don’t wear my engagement ring I still have sparkles.
On my other ring finger I always wear a ring. Sometimes a non-expensive one, sometimes the bling pink one my parents bought me last Christmas, sometimes a little wishbone ring Himself bought me. But I have a ring from each of my grandmothers that I wear too.
My maternal grandmother’s ring is platinum, and therefore one of the most valuable things I own. It’s got a big ruby in the middle, with tiny diamonds on either side. It’s very stylish, and very old. It belonged to her mother, who was born around 1900. It is beautiful. Every now and then I lose it and pray to St Anthony to bring it back, and he always does.
My paternal grandmother’s ring I haven’t had very long. At some point I went rooting through my mother’s jewellery box looking for a gold ring to wear with an outfit, and found it. I slipped it on, thinking it was hers. I should’ve known it wasn’t; it’s too big for me so definitely too big for her. It was gold, but kind of filthy. I had it cleaned, and wow. You should see it now.
My dad’s family didn’t have a lot of money, ie none. But this ring is rose gold and the diamonds go all the way round. It must have cost my grandfather an absolute fortune - much more than a miner could probably afford. I have an idea as to when he gave it to her. I’ll share that elsewhere, though.
What jewellery do you habitually wear? Where is it from? Why do you wear it? Why not?
