I was fortunate enough to grow up in a small village that was awash with horse chestnut trees. As kids we eagerly awaited autumn and as the leaves turned golden and the air crisp, we would gather on the village square to play a game known as conkers.
Each year, we'd hunt for the perfect horse chestnuts, known as conkers. The game was simple yet thrilling as each of us would thread a chestnut onto a string and take turns swinging conkers at one another, trying to break the opponent's nut while preserving our own. The thrill of victory was sweet, especially when one managed to defeat a champion conker of legendary hardness.
I remember one lad who was known for his unbeatable conker, which he lovingly named "Thunder." It had a shiny brown exterior and was famed for its resilience. He would polish it each day, whispering secrets and strategies to it as if it were a trusted friend.
However, as the years have gone by, the world outside these villages has changed. Video games have become more popular, and many kids now find themselves glued to screens instead of playing outside. It seems that the traditional village square, once alive with laughter and the sound of conkers clashing is now silent. Perhaps out of a feeling for these nostalgic times, I still collect handfuls of these lovely chestnuts and use them as part of our autumn decorations at home.
Happy times.
Kirk x