Intoxicated by my success I asked Sarah to come home for tea the next day the first such

Intoxicated by my success, I asked Sarah to come home for tea the next day, the first such invitation I had ever dared to issue.The tea was not a success. Sarah, eyeing the wall-mounted assembly of stags' heads which were supervising the intake of cucumber sandwiches with their usual predatory stare, seemed ill-at-ease. Her mother, handbag planted firmly on her knees, declined the cake and, rather obtrusively, we all thought, wiped the edge of her teacup before taking a sip of Earl Grey Conversation languished. Half an hour after arriving, they were ready to leave.That was the moment when the handbag was opened. "I believe this belongs to you," the mother said and I saw, to my horror, that she was holding out the Byron ring. "I don't think you should encourage your daughter to go handing family possessions out at school." She paused.

"It's just that I wouldn't care to have anyone saying my Sarah was a thief."We all knew who the thief was My former friend left without a backward glance I don't think we ever spoke to each other again. Explaining to my parents why I had given a piece of their precious heritage to a girl I scarcely knew was no fun at all.My next memory of the Byron ring belongs to the Sixties, when an Extremely Famous Actor came to Nottingham to perform in a one-man play about Byron. It was my father's idea, with the kindest of intentions, that we should invite him over and offer to let him wear the Byron ring for his performances. The EFA said he would be delighted.He came, not alone as we had hoped, but with a wife and a giant tribe of children. He looked a bit less glamorous off-stage, and not in the least like Byron. Still, the offer had been made and he seemed almost embarrassingly excited by the prospect of wearing he ring.

It would, he said, add SO MUCH to his feeling for the poet! What a marvellous, MARVELLOUS gesture! My father, who had been sulking about the tribe and the astonishing amount of noise they were making, began to brighten up again."Well", he said, gracefully waving a hand towards the staircase. "Time to go and get the ring out?"The glass table was unlocked, the ring withdrawn and ceremoniously proffered. The EFA, still murmuring inexpressible gratitude, took it, admired it and extended his fingers. There was a long silence."I'm afraid it doesn't fit", he said And looking, we could all see that he was quite right It didn't even go over the first knuckle "Oh but look!" my father said. And, snatching the ring back, he slipped it on and held out his hand for us to admire The EFA did not stay for drinks, although we pressed him. In his letter of thanks, he said that he had so enjoyed seeing the ring worn, if not by him.