It’s good not to hanker after things you cant afford. I’ve never really gone in for it, myself. I’ve spent so much of my life longing for people that material things seem almost ridiculously abstract by comparison. If you’re self-analytical an obsession with that unreachable dress or bauble just isn’t much fun. It’s a fool’s game, a hollow form of compensation, you tell yourself sagely. What you really wish for is something more sustaining, you chide, the Austrian notes in your accent flaring. Finally you snap. Your patience dwindles. Hey, buster, what’s with the sudden surge of low morale? Look, you’re bigger than that.

My Christmas list this year was quite modest. It featured Henry James and the Art of Dress by Claire Hughes, a bumper pack of lemsip, a few two finger Kit Kats, some Wolford Synergy 40s and a Hello Kitty toaster like my friend Sally’s. I was feeling pretty well equipped, possessions-wise. I thought of asking for a voucher for a tooth whitening process, but decided it was a bit sordid. I was happy.

Then a slim grey book turned up on my door mat featuring the Dior fine jewellery range and in the Milly-la-Foret section I spied it. The utterly beautiful (and I’m not making this up) “Petits Pois” ring. This exquisite cocktail confection fashioned from yellow gold features a shiny green pea pod and next to it three pearls representing the peas nestling among some emerald and diamond embedded pea leaves and pea shoots. Now, I like peas very much. I hold them in high esteem, especially those very young tender ones you get at the beginning of the season, but never was this humble vegetable so elevated. I once heard a talk about Rothschild palaces which claimed the interior decoration was faultless apart from the fact all genuinely exceptional good taste should involve a small, balancing peasant element and that this element was sadly lacking. Well, the way this extremely glamorous ring paid homage to the plain old garden pea would have satisfied any such arbiter. It really was a delight to behold: witty, sophisticated, modern, fresh, highly original and a little bit insane. I loved it. I imagined the interest it would produce when worn on my finger. Years ago, people used to tell me regularly that I could possibly make it as a hand model, and although this compliment never quite made my day, I welcomed the idea that my hands might once again become a talking point. I thought how the ring would compliment my new tweed and fox coat. I imagined the renewed fervour for vegetable eating it would inspire in Mary, worth the price in health terms alone, no? Feverishly I flicked to the back to find out the cost. I felt my heart sink in sharp, hulking thuds. I shook my head. “ Bague petit pois, or jaune,diamonts,emerauds,chrysoprase et perles de cultures: £ 23,200.” Oh.

I went to Harrods straightaway and asked to see the Petits Pois ring, dimly hoping that it would not be so wonderful in the flesh and then I’d be off the hook. The charming assistant smiled at me sadly. It’s not in London. It is New York then coming to Paris this week and I could have it in London for you in five days approximately. Of course a ring such as this would have a hectic schedule. But how could she be so certain that no-one would be buying it? I tried to think who would spend that much money on a ring fashioned, beautifully, to look like some shelled peas, whose value lay not in its stones which were very small, but in its concept and design and highly intricate manufacture. Briefly I remembered my geography teacher’s obsession with the huge scale frozen pea processing plants of East Anglia. I imagined a besotted pea baron presenting this ring to his vegetable adoring bride after the birth of their first child. I couldn't quite see it.

‘Who would buy such a ring, do you think?’ I asked the assistant. ‘Well, someone with an eye for exceptional design,’ she smiled to suggest that she and I figured amongst such women. She looked at me indulgently. ‘You wouldn't believe the work involved. It was clear that she almost could not believe it herself. ‘I’ll call you the moment it arrives.’ ‘ If it’s coming anyway...’ my voice trailed off. ‘I could always pay it a visit,’ I continued, to make it clear that I wouldn’t, ever, be buying. ‘ I’ll bring it a little gift,’ I almost added. She nodded, as if to say the deep respect I would show the piece would be almost as good as hard cash. We understood each other entirely. neither of us would never actually own the ring, but on the rare occasions that it was passing through London occasional access in-store, for bouts of admiration and fantasy, could probably be arranged.