My own particular Liege loves practical too. Why he married me, of all people, I shall never know. Maybe he longed to convert me to practical. Perhaps he saw it as his mission in life. So far, he’s failed rather dismally.
I think the worst present I ever got from him (and there have been many) was when he returned from a business trip to Namibia.
We all know that the streets of Windhoek are paved with diamonds. Even the dunes are littered with the little shiny things. The loos flush diamonds. While he was away, I spend an inordinate amount of time gazing at my left hand, thinking how marvellous it would look with a big rock on one finger. I even went for a manicure – something I’d never done in my entire life thus far.
When he walked in the door, I flew at him and kissed him enthusiastically. “Well?” I said, cocking my head to one side, hoping I looked coquettish. Opening his briefcase with a flourish, he presented me with a brown paper bag. I giggled like a schoolgirl. “Oh darling,” I squealed. “You’re so silly!” Clever chap, disguising something so beautiful and glittery in a grotty old brown bag. I opened it, trembling with anticipation, and peered inside for the little velvet box that would contain my treasure. I still feel weak reliving this moment. There it was, all curled up like a big, fat snake. He had brought me………
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