On this Christmas day, Magellan and I are treating ourselves to the gift of frankincense.
It’s burning in the ceramic mukkabbah we bought in Oman, releasing a primal smoke, an aromatic fragrance more powerful than that released by our Christmas tree.
Until two Christmases ago, we didn’t know much about frankincense. Gift of a wise man. Valuable commodity in ancient times.
Now we’re hoarding the four kilos we brought back from Oman, treating our little beads of frankincense, which are the colour of old-fashioned creamed honey, as if they were more worthy than gold. Which at one time they were. Read more