Memoir Monday - The Ring

Here we are for another Memoir Monday on a Tuesday, yada, yada, yankee time difference, blah, blah, blah... oh, and Trav. I WAS here last week, where were you? Hmmmm? Bit hard having a Memoir Monday without the host, ya know.

Now, a little back I referred to my heartbreak over losing my ring. In that story I mentioned the importance of this engagement ring, not only for all it symbolises between Big Boy and I, but also because of the role Wise Woman played in the whole fiasco situation.

And so today my Memoir Monday is, as it says in the title of this post...

THE Ring.

I am sure I have mentioned my performance before, probably in one of those 10 things about yourself posts in the early days. Forgive me if I am repeating something you have already read.

We are going back, back through the years, back to the beginning of the Madmother & Big Boy clan. My wonderful soul mate has just proposed in a reasonably romantic manner, well romantic for the boy he was. Loving and knowing me well, he chose not to design THE RING prior to this proposition, choosing to avoid a madmother meltdown if her control freak ways were not catered to cater to his beloved's little endearing quirks of nature.

Now I will let you know I adore vintage and antique rings. In fact at that point I already owned three, left to me by my wonderful Yee-ha Grandma. So I knew pretty much the design I wanted. I even had an old Angus and Coote catalogue from the 1920's, again left to me by my beloved Grandma, from which I picked a design, or rather a blend of several of the designs within the pages. We went diamond shopping (yes, one of those brokers who specialise in stones alone and would only let you past the armed guards and the security locks if you knew the secret squirrel password and hush-hush handshake), and we went jeweller shopping. Now the first jeweller was situated in the glorious Strand Arcade.

Gorgeous, isn't it. Wise Woman tagged along as she was on holidays staying with us. And because I asked her (a woman of far more elegance and discerning taste than I will ever be). Off we toddle, meet up with Big Boy in his lunch break (looking mighty fine as a boy in a suit, I might add). Discussed design, showed them the various elements from the catalogue I wanted, received quote. Let's just say back then it would have served perfectly as the deposit on your first house. Holy crap! In their defence a lot of the cost was in re-creating the old moulds used to create such fine work on those rings. Well, that's what they told us anyway.

At this point I could quickly see my perfect ring fast becoming an unattainable dream, but we decided to go out to a more suburban shopping centre for another quote, just in case it was feasible.

Big Boy had to work (to earnt the $$$$ to pay for his delicate little petal's obsession desire), so Wise Woman and I went on a preliminary reconnaissance all by our lonesomes out to Eastgardens. Now, do remember back in them days it was not the massive centre it is today. Noooo. It was actually quite small by today's standards. There was a jeweller I had dealt with previously, and I was sure they could help. Off we trot, anticipation building as we ride the escalator up to the top where they were located.

To find them shut. A Jewish holiday apparently. No, I'm not Jewish and had no bloody idea they were. And so, Madmother threw a tanty. A pretty embarrassingly loud, large one according to my mum.

Now, Wise Woman had been dealing with Madmother for thirty-two years by this point. She may have been slender and elegant, but she was also a tough lady underneath that gentile exterior. Quick as a flash she grabbed my arm in a vicelike grip, hissed in my ear to grow up and stop behaving like a five year old, and she had spotted another jeweller at the bottom of the escalator. By this time I am in martyr mode and sniff disdainfully "Well, I am sure THEY will have nothing suitable for ME." But I have no choice in the matter as she maintains her hold and drags me back down to the store.

Well, you guessed it. Not only was the man a master designer and jeweller, he had been apprenticed to his father and still had his Dad's ORIGINAL MOULDS. Voila! One glorious brilliant cut diamond solitaire ring, designed exactly along my heart's desires, and at HALF the price quoted by the city centre lot. And so this ring became a symbol of more than the love between a man and woman, it represented the love, tolerance and none of that behaviour from you young lady relationship of a mother with her daughter. 

As per usual my wonderful Wise Woman was right. You'd a thunk after having her as my mum for the previous three plus decades I'd of learnt to shut up and listen, huh?

This is my Memoir Monday. Love you Mum, wish you were here.



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