My treasure

There is definitely the treasure of the expensive variety. Sadly, despite my periodic attempts at not being (or at least appearing) too vacuous, I'll admit it: do love diamonds. Who doesn't?

But then there is the treasure of things found and kept, of things that have no 'real' value but are cherished nonetheless, the chair I bought in a junk shop as a student in Oxford, the Barbara vinyl records I collected in France over the years, the sweet box lid depicting an angel, given to me by my dear nanny Miriam once she had eaten the liquorice it once held.

When I was last in Israel I visited my 92 year old Saba (grandfather), Yehoshua. He is amazing - he worked in a steel factory all his life but devours books and could give you a history lesson on the topic of your choice. If he had been born in my era I suspect he would have become a scholar.

Touched by the news of my engagement, Saba handed me an old plastic box, weighed down by strands and strands of beads that had belonged to my grandmother, Tova, who sadly passed away too young. You see, they were Eastern European immigrants - they didn't have great jewels. My grandmother would go to the market and buy beads by weight. Can you imagine?

Saba said I could take what I wanted: I chose some strands and have enjoyed wearing them ever since. I hope to pass them on to daughters one day, im irzeh hashem, should it (be g-d's will).

Nope, they're not grand jewels, but they do occupy a grand place in my heart. And I think they're pretty cool too.