Lost

We've spent an unexpectedly miserably day on a fingertip search, so far fruitless, of gradually widening areas of the house, which began when I realised while feeding J her breakfast that the diamond had disappeared from my engagement ring. P and I chose the ring together, on a day out to London at the end of 1979;  I've worn it ever since, except for its brief absence for resetting some twenty years ago when one of the claws was damaged. I used to take it off while washing up, swimming or gardening, but it hasn't come off my finger for some years now, so I realise I don't care for it as well as I should - but it's very precious, an important part of our story, as well as a lovely, sparkly diamond. I rarely wear jewellery, and consequently own very little, but this has always been more symbol than ornament. 

Initially I assumed it had fallen out just prior to my awareness of the claw snagging my other hand, and was moderately hopeful that a careful and systematic search would reveal it, but as the day has gone one my hope has faded. There are more areas I will search, or scrutinise again, tomorrow, but I can't be certain whether I even lost it in the house. 

I'm also rather horrified at the close-up view of my knuckles, which look, to me at least, about twenty years older than they should - but I had no interest in taking any other photos today, so I will have to abandon vanity and display them nonetheless.