Sunday, November 15, 2015

Old Chestnut

Today

This year's Sainsbury's Christmas ad is very delightful in which Mog the cat manages to wreck the whole house. In one sequence chestnuts start roasting and flying all over the kitchen. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kuRn2S7iPNU

In My Day

We rarely roasted chestnuts as children, although some were sometimes bunged on a shovel and put on the fire at Guy Fawkes. More commonly, we had them peeled and simmered in turkey stock to go with Christmas dinner.

Paul often used to extol the delights of roasted chestnuts as enjoyed when he lived in the 17th century Dial House. He conjured up visions of roaring log fires, cosy family evenings full of simple home-spun pleasures.

Picture this: It's evening at Rowan Avenue in about 1975 or 76. Lizzie is  tucked up in bed and we're relaxing for the evening. Suddenly there's a sound of gunfire; spasmodic loud explosions. Was there a shoot-out in the street? Should we call the Police?  Hang on! Weren't they coming from the kitchen? Looking panic-stricken, Paul rushed to the kitchen and opened the oven door. More explosions, this time firing straight at his face. He slammed the door shut and switched off the oven.

Thinking to please me, Paul had put some chestnuts in the oven to roast. How delightful it would be to recreate his childhood experience in our bare 1970's semi! However, fantasy needs to meet reality at some stage if disaster is to be avoided, and what Paul had never noticed during those cosy evenings was that every chestnut had a prick in its shell so that it could expand in the heat.

I think we scraped a few chestnuts off the tray and I'm not sure that I ever got the oven quite clean.

They say it's the thought that counts but that saying is a bit of an old chestnut as well.

1 comment:

Unknown said...

lovely story. I always think that chestnuts are over-rated, and I don't bother with them