Ring of Gold

We are sorting out no longer used clothes for a charity collection tomorrow. In the course of sorting out a drawer J came across a little cotton bag, and this was in it. It’s a good thing it wasn’t added to the pile in error.

Years ago (around the time people were calling Paul Simon Al), and a couple of years or so after we married, I lost my wedding ring. No idea how or where. We ended up getting me another one, from the same place we had bought the first. And this is it.

The reason I am not wearing it is that the first turned up, a few years after I had lost it. By that time we had moved from Leicester to the north-west. The ring had been found behind files on a shelf, and a former colleague recalled me losing and searching for it so I was contacted. It must have slid off as I was pulling files out - this was before any computers in offices, there were just rows of paper files taking up a lot of space on the 12th floor of the New Walk Centre. A building now demolished.

So I wear the first ring. My finger appears to have expanded, so there is no way I could now take it off. The second ring remains in its little bag, but it is not forgotten.