Jewellery

When I was a sprog at my expensive boarding school I made, among other things, jewellery. I also made the dining table that Son and I eat off (when we're not telly suppering). I don't claim to be much good with my hands, but I did enjoy that aspect of school very much indeed. I may even subject you to the odd snap of carvings I did there. But I digress (not that I really have a point to make, I am just writing after all).

I know I mentioned my Grandfather the other day, but back in those days at school little did I know that my Grandmother's father was the scion of a major and important jewellers in the north. I suppose at 15/16/17 you don't take these things in much anway, but if you are at boarding school it probably doesn't occur to use one's weekly call home to say "by the way mater, one is fashioning tasteful items in silver and rosewood here at school, does one have any rellies that share these interests?". Or maybe you did, but it didn't occur to me. I was far to busy being sullen and listening to Lou Reed.

So it wasn't until later that I discovered that at about the same time as I was twiddling away in the school workshops, my mothers cousin was slowly but surely draining the life from the massive company that made my great Grandfather and his father before him very wealthy. My great Grandfather pissed (literally) most of it up against the wall, and what little remained went down the other side of the family.

But occasionally, and today is one of those days when I look at the Art Deco jewellery (piccies of which are about this post) from the 'family' factory and wonder whether, had I known at 16 what I know now, and expressed any interest, I would have had a chance of getting involved and maybe changing the course of history?

And then I go on to wonder if jeweller shouldn't become my new profession. And then I get real and go downstairs and make lunch, for I have just noted the time.