I'm not one for the gypsy life, Bambs. I love my home comforts far too much, chief amongst them being a roaring log fire on those cold, bleak Winter nights. I doubt you have ever roasted horse chestnuts on an open fire, Bambs.
You know nothing about me, Stan. I'm am little more than a mirror held aloft to your own inadequacies, doubts, and self-loathing. I am a reflection of everything that you see and despise in yourself. It is good that you can externalise these negative, harmful emotions. One day, you will thank me for helping you.
...too true buddy... they are inedible and possibly mildly toxic ... unlike edible chestnuts ... I think I'm starting to understand where some of your problems originate ...
Love sweet chestnuts. Going back years, my local was a really old pub, parts of which went back to the 14th century. Several open fireplaces and the one in the regulars little nook - called The Prefect’s Room - was used to cook loads of chestnuts that were brought in by one of those regulars who had a huge tree in his garden. We’d line em up along the grate.
Some of my earliest memories are of walking down oxford st at Christmas with my Nan, watching the glowing coals of the chestnut roasters and seeing those little white paper bags lined up with roast chestnuts. I feel like im going to burst into song about it.
