Diamonds

I like sparkly things.

Not to wear, I don't have the personality for it. But to admire. So when the MasterChief met Bernie and discussed with her, during dinner - and in front of me, mind - on how large a carat to get for me, they settled on 1. A single carat. Oh good. Fine. That's all settled.

I didn't think anything of it, figuring it was just the 2 of them getting along fine. Until I passed a jewellery store one day and asked to see a 1 carat diamond solitaire.

Damn, I nearly shit myself. Mildly freaked out, Bernie says he was apparently plumping for a 2 carat solitiare. And I have vowed I will never allow the MasterChief to buy me anything that large.

Why does this come to mind? Because someone has found a diamond the size of a egg. An entire damned egg. When that baby's cut and polished, hearts will go faint and palpitations will erupt. A cold sweat and the desire to go forth and buy diamonds.


Except for me, of course.