Tales of the ring - well almost...

This is the ring that I bought from the shop hidden away in the twisting, turning back streets of old Whitby. The smiths that worked in silver, making everything themselves, when asked to work in gold agreed and made this for me instead. That shop run by the two young women, one dark, one fair, and I a young man myself.

Almost thirty years ago now.

My goldfish ring (how I love that pun) arrived in a box with a kiss one autumn morning long after summer and holiday had passed - to be slipped on my finger, never to be taken off.

Placed on the right in the mirror of a wedding band. Perhaps I should wear two.

There are stories around this ring, many of them. They started on the day I requested it.

Yes, I could tell you tales of the golden ring and perhaps I will some day. But not now let's leave them safe and secret in my memory.

Ah, but her eyes were blue.

Ah, but her eyes were green flecked brown.