Conkers

I cannot walk past fallen conkers without picking some up. I think it goes back to my childhood, where every conker was a potential winner. Either baked in the Aga, or soaked in vinegar for a couple of days to make it hard, we would then get a meat skewer and make a hole through the middle, thread through an old shoe lace, which was well and truly knotted to stop the conker slipping off, and we were ready to go into battle. Playtime in the Autumn was always about playing conkers.