Roast nuts, friendship and real fires

Bleak November days are brightened by all the preparations for the festive season. One of the early signs that Christmas is coming are red string bags full of shiny brown nuts on the supermarket shelves. I have eaten hot chestnuts roasted over an open fire only once in my life. There is a first time for everything and the occasion was a memorable one.

A dear friend had been home for Christmas to her cottage in Skye. A crowd of us had gathered around her fire, red wine in hand, full of fun, chat and laughter. She produced a gift she had received from her husband that year. It was an antique chestnut roaster; rather like a cross between a pair of small bellows and one of those round toasted sandwich makers that sits directly over the gas cooker flames.