A book was published last week that I haven't read, and in fact wouldn't dream of reading. But I did read a review, which prompted a really good financial idea that I thought I might pass on.

The book is called "The Necklace: Thirteen Women and the Experiment That Changed Their Lives". Cheryl Jarvis wrote it. It's about a dozen women who pooled their resources to buy a necklace that was much too expensive for any of them to buy individually. It was, in fact, too expensive for all 12 of them to own collectively, but the salesman's wife chipped in and then there were 13.

Each woman had possession of the necklace for a month, in turn. This being a feel-good book, along the lines of "The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants", each of the women yields unexpected beneficial character development from the arrangement. They all have wild sex and great times, the review said, and that's enough of that.

In the real world, one suspects, 13 people sharing a necklace, or anything else, would be a recipe for disaster. Jealousies, ex-spouses, greed and Lord Knows what else would doubtless get in the way and mess things up. In the book, of course, the women learn unexpected things about themselves and life and everything is exclusively good.

What the review made me wonder was whether there might indeed be some simpler satisfaction to be had from shared ownership. One example that comes to mind would be a house. Find another family and share the cost of building a two-in-one house that you could all live in. Side by side, I mean, not all in one. Half a house, I suspect, like half a loaf, is better than none.

New cars are insanely expensive in Bermuda. What if you and a friendly family nearby shared ownership in one? With a little practical thinking and a small degree of self-control (neither your strong suit, I realise that), you could gain real benefits.

The co-owning family should be similar to yours. If one family has kids, so should the other. That way, one Mom could take all the kids to school in the morning, and the other could pick them up in the afternoon. Think of the time savings! The husbands could go out together in the evening, and share the driving. One could be the designated driver, and the other one could do the drinking and fighting and throwing up.

As I say, it would require a spot of compromise, but think of the financial savings, too. Jewellery might be another good idea, except that my experience of women has been that many of them would rather drop dead than wear something that someone else had worn. Most of my ex-girlfriends would have taken the opportunity, if presented with the notion of sharing their jewellery, to point out that I should drop dead. Hell, they all told me that without my suggesting that they share their jewellery.

My Mum, however, almost always wore borrowed jewellery, and she was a saint. My Dad was a jeweller, and he'd bring home insanely expensive stuff for Mum to wear, from stock. She never minded, because she got to wear fabulous items she would never otherwise have worn, and there's my point: suck it up, ladies, and think about it.

Well, there we are. I've alienated half the readership and they didn't even have to date me to learn to hate me. More savings.

* * *

Speaking of women, I watched some of the US Open tennis tournament on TV this week, since I enjoy watching Serena Williams running around in flimsy clothing. My favourite moment came during the award ceremony that followed the game. Miss Williams was awarded $1.5 million for winning, earning in an hour roughly what the average American worker earns in a lifetime. Money well spent, if you ask me.

Her opponent, a slip of an East European girl, asked several times: "How much do I get?" The notion that a professional sportsperson would not know how much money was at stake was greatly refreshing.

I also happened to watch a Scottish lad thrash a desperately unpleasant Spanish fellow whose main talent appears to be grunting. In the final, the Scot lost to a charming Swiss player, but only because a linesman, fast asleep or possibly dead, missed a crucial call.

A machine has been invented that follows the ball and definitively shows whether it is in or out on every shot, with a film record as evidence. Yet its use is limited to a small number of occasions on which the players request it. The rest of the time, an umpire, often with extremely poor vision, or some old people in bathchairs, make the calls.

Why don't the tennis authorities permit the use of the infallible technology on every shot? And why isn't the technology used in football (soccer) games, where blind referees are standard issue? Why is the truth anathema in sports?

And while I'm asking, why don't they throw players off the court for grunting? It is ungentlemanly behaviour. Women tennis players, who are almost all grunters, cannot be accused of behaving in an ungentlemanly manner, but the gruntin' and a-groanin' Spaniard should be chased out of town and never let back in.

Just saying, that's all.