![]() ![]() But then I’ve never been proposed to before. I’ve never worn stay-up stockings before. I’m wearing an understated, bride-to-be white shirt, a print skirt, and have splashed out on stay-up stockings, just in case we decide to cement the engagement later on. The perfect place for a lunchtime proposal. All black and white marble and vintage chandeliers and button-back chairs in pale grey. It’s a new restaurant on the Strand, just up from the Savoy. We’re sitting at a corner table overlooking the river. I sip my water and smile lovingly at Richard. ![]() On the other hand, it’s fabulously romantic to choose one together. On the one hand, it’s fabulously romantic if he has. I wonder what proportion of marriage proposals end in a ‘yes’ and what proportion end in a ‘no’? I open my mouth automatically to share this thought with Richard – then hastily close it again. They have to set up the occasion, they have to get down on one knee, they have to ask the question and they have to buy a ring. Men don’t get the greatest deal out of a proposal. Actually, I’m losing confidence in this ring by the minute, but I just felt bad that he wouldn’t have anything. Or I could take it back and never mention it. Keep it on his nightstand or in a box or whatever. ![]() If Richard doesn’t like the diamond, he can always turn it round. ![]() It’s a plain band with a tiny diamond in it, which the guy in the shop talked me into. ![]()
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