A Christmas Conker Crisis: One Refugee's Bitter Welcome to Britain

When my father first arrived in the UK 43 years ago, a simple Christmas wish taught him about British life—and nearly made him sick. He wanted to roast chestnuts. Having grown up in a hot former British colony, his idea of Christmas came from cards showing snow and festive food. So, he went to Clapham Common in London and collected a bag of horse chestnuts, known locally as conkers. He did not know they are poisonous. That evening, his British friends arrived at his house. They were met by a strange smell and the sight of my wild-haired father, then in his 20s, ready to eat about 30 conkers baking in the oven. They stopped him just in time. This story still makes me laugh. It also reminds me how people bonded with and looked after him then. I have taken in refugees myself and formed lasting ties. The story makes me wonder: would strangers be so kind today? Instead of demonising people, we could try sharing our lives with them.