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The ring Pat gave me is a reminder of time and mortality The ring Pat gave me is a reminder of time and mortality
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The most treasured gift I have received since childhood is an antique micro-mosaic ring, portraying the Castel Sant’Angelo and a view of the Tiber in Rome. In childhood, all presents are precious, because children have so little: or so it was when I was young. Now children and adults are sated and demanding, and the gift industry runs out of control. The anxiety of excess choice creates panic, and towards Christmas I am given to wasting money on pointless and inappropriate objects, many of which I blush to remember. I’m not Scrooge, but I am an appallingly graceless and inept giver of gifts. It requires a special art to find the special present.The most treasured gift I have received since childhood is an antique micro-mosaic ring, portraying the Castel Sant’Angelo and a view of the Tiber in Rome. In childhood, all presents are precious, because children have so little: or so it was when I was young. Now children and adults are sated and demanding, and the gift industry runs out of control. The anxiety of excess choice creates panic, and towards Christmas I am given to wasting money on pointless and inappropriate objects, many of which I blush to remember. I’m not Scrooge, but I am an appallingly graceless and inept giver of gifts. It requires a special art to find the special present.
The ring was given to me by Pat Kavanagh, in the summer of 2008, at a supper party at a friend’s house, with the words, “I think I’ve found you the perfect gift, but don’t open it yet.” She wanted me to wait until the publication of my memoir about jigsaws and my aunt, The Pattern in the Carpet, which was due out in a couple of months. Pat was (and had been for many years) my agent, so she had read early drafts, and when, disobeying her instructions a week or two later, I opened the little box, I saw how precisely and wonderfully she had chosen.The ring was given to me by Pat Kavanagh, in the summer of 2008, at a supper party at a friend’s house, with the words, “I think I’ve found you the perfect gift, but don’t open it yet.” She wanted me to wait until the publication of my memoir about jigsaws and my aunt, The Pattern in the Carpet, which was due out in a couple of months. Pat was (and had been for many years) my agent, so she had read early drafts, and when, disobeying her instructions a week or two later, I opened the little box, I saw how precisely and wonderfully she had chosen.
I am so glad I uncharacteristically and disobediently opened the box, for within months she was dead, and had I waited I would not have been able to write to thank her for it.I am so glad I uncharacteristically and disobediently opened the box, for within months she was dead, and had I waited I would not have been able to write to thank her for it.
It’s large, for a ring, and it fits on the ring finger of my right hand. It has a silver base, and the image is surrounded by an oval of dark red stone, which may or may not be carnelian. The sky is blue tinged with pink, the arches of the bridge over the river are brown, and the round castle has an orange glow. It’s not in perfect condition, for several of the tiny tesserae are missing and the carnelian is chipped. It’s fragile, and for years I didn’t wear it, hiding it carefully away in a tiny golden bag in my bedside drawer – the first place, as we know, that burglars look for loot. Then, early this year, for what seemed an appropriate occasion, I put it on, and now I wear it quite often.It’s large, for a ring, and it fits on the ring finger of my right hand. It has a silver base, and the image is surrounded by an oval of dark red stone, which may or may not be carnelian. The sky is blue tinged with pink, the arches of the bridge over the river are brown, and the round castle has an orange glow. It’s not in perfect condition, for several of the tiny tesserae are missing and the carnelian is chipped. It’s fragile, and for years I didn’t wear it, hiding it carefully away in a tiny golden bag in my bedside drawer – the first place, as we know, that burglars look for loot. Then, early this year, for what seemed an appropriate occasion, I put it on, and now I wear it quite often.
I have always loved mosaics, and in my jigsaw book I tried to explain why. (It was a taxi driver called Kevin who drew my attention to the fact that mosaics were an early form of jigsaw: he too was a mosaic enthusiast.) I had some happy times exploring museums and Roman villas and reading about collections and collectors: I was particularly entranced by the information that the trade in micro-mosaics began during the grand tour in the 18th century, when English travellers purchased real antiquities and commissioned paintings and casts. Those who couldn’t afford to transport home great blocks of marble bought replica snuff boxes and necklaces, showing St Peter’s or the Coliseum or the tomb of Cecilia Metella, and historians teased that “ladies now wear in tiny finger-rings the largest monuments of ancient and Christian Rome”.I have always loved mosaics, and in my jigsaw book I tried to explain why. (It was a taxi driver called Kevin who drew my attention to the fact that mosaics were an early form of jigsaw: he too was a mosaic enthusiast.) I had some happy times exploring museums and Roman villas and reading about collections and collectors: I was particularly entranced by the information that the trade in micro-mosaics began during the grand tour in the 18th century, when English travellers purchased real antiquities and commissioned paintings and casts. Those who couldn’t afford to transport home great blocks of marble bought replica snuff boxes and necklaces, showing St Peter’s or the Coliseum or the tomb of Cecilia Metella, and historians teased that “ladies now wear in tiny finger-rings the largest monuments of ancient and Christian Rome”.
My ring is in this antique tradition. I don’t know where Pat found it, but it gives me much pleasure to know that when she spotted it, she thought of me. She was known as an inspired giver of gifts, and at her memorial service many of them were mentioned, and indeed worn there in her honour – handbags, scarves and pieces of jewellery.My ring is in this antique tradition. I don’t know where Pat found it, but it gives me much pleasure to know that when she spotted it, she thought of me. She was known as an inspired giver of gifts, and at her memorial service many of them were mentioned, and indeed worn there in her honour – handbags, scarves and pieces of jewellery.
Although Pat and I knew each other for decades, we were not intimate friends. As another of my closer friends said of me recently, without reproach, as she was dying, “Maggie doesn’t do intimacy.” And there is a sense in which that may be true. Many writers are private people. And Pat Kavanagh was also a private person.Although Pat and I knew each other for decades, we were not intimate friends. As another of my closer friends said of me recently, without reproach, as she was dying, “Maggie doesn’t do intimacy.” And there is a sense in which that may be true. Many writers are private people. And Pat Kavanagh was also a private person.
I was in awe of the supremely elegant Pat, and relied on her fine judgment. We treated each other, I like to think, with respect. So it is all the more precious to me to have this visible symbol of our long relationship.I was in awe of the supremely elegant Pat, and relied on her fine judgment. We treated each other, I like to think, with respect. So it is all the more precious to me to have this visible symbol of our long relationship.
This little, personal, damaged, priceless miniature of the eternal city is a reminder of time, mortality, survival, eternity. And when Rome falls, then all the world shall fall, as Byron almost said.This little, personal, damaged, priceless miniature of the eternal city is a reminder of time, mortality, survival, eternity. And when Rome falls, then all the world shall fall, as Byron almost said.
I wonder whether Pat would have approved of my writing this tribute. She had a strong sense of decorum. She warmly supported me in publishing some of my more controversial pieces, but she sometimes warned me off, and once said to me, “If you ever write for that rag again, I’ll cease to represent you” (she didn’t mean the Guardian). So I am sorry, Pat, if I have offended. We all miss you and your guidance.I wonder whether Pat would have approved of my writing this tribute. She had a strong sense of decorum. She warmly supported me in publishing some of my more controversial pieces, but she sometimes warned me off, and once said to me, “If you ever write for that rag again, I’ll cease to represent you” (she didn’t mean the Guardian). So I am sorry, Pat, if I have offended. We all miss you and your guidance.