G’day I was on leave from the Royal Navy in October 1945 when I
proposed to the young lady on leave from the Army who I wanted to be
my wife (we’d met in a laboratory in '39). It was dusk as we sat by
the lake and the full moon rose over the water. I fished in my
pocket, found her hand and slipped the ring on the (proper!) finger.
At that very moment the nearby church decided to have bell ringing
practice. Very romantique, wot? So I was demobilized from the navy and
we married the following June. The first infant arrived 18 months
later (so there!); I came home from work to find the lady very
distressed indeed; the stone had gone from her precious ring. Well.
The British have never paid their sailors well, so the ring had a
thin shank, was of 14 ct gold, with a small solitary diamond. Even
so, I had to borrow a bit from my Old Man to buy it. We couldn’t
possibly afford a replacement stone. And that was that. But just
leave it to the kids. Two weeks later the aforesaid infant was
banging the broom up and down on the floor, as infants are won’t to
do. You might imagine the great cuddles after the lady saw the lost
gem sparkling on the floor! That lady, although 83, still has that
El Cheepo ring to this day, only to be worn on very special
occasions. – Cheers for now, John Burgess; @John_Burgess2 of Mapua,
Nelson NZ