A Little Story About A Ring and A Dreamer It was a proper drizzly Tuesday morning, the kind where the grey skies seem to press down on London, making everyone just a tiny bit more eager for a cuppa and a good tale. I was sat in my usual corner of the workshop, sketching away, when a memory popped into my head, clear as day, like a perfectly polished gem catching the light. It was of my Auntie Margaret, a truly wonderful woman who always knew how to make ordinary moments feel extraordinary, finding beauty in everything, even a simple wildflower by the roadside. Her laughter was contagious, and ...
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