Yet another glorious weekend! Having spent a few hours tittivating our Heskin showroom and gift shop, we decided to make the most of it and get out and about for a few lungfuls of fresh autumn air.
Our first stop was the woods. Armed with a bundle of sturdy carrier bags we set off in search of conkers. I was feeling quite smug having noticed a few of the shiny nuggets on the ground a week or so previously. As though I was harbouring nature’s great secret of early conker droppage, I even tried to hide our carrier bags from passers-by should they realise our mission and get there before us. I needn’t have worried.
It was bonkers conkers heaven. There was a conker carpet beneath our feet and after several bumps on the head we soon realised it was raining the brown things too – thanks to a squirrel in the upper boughs of the tree. It was like all our Christmases had come at once, like we’d won the lottery, like we’d found a bundle of crisp £50 notes in the gutter or a great big diamond ring…such is the feeling of finding conkers.
We soon realised this elation was not shared by our offspring. The girls just stared as we salivated over each new discovery, filling our bags with more of the same. Like Rumpelstiltskin spinning the straw into gold, we only had to flick over a leaf and there was our prize.
Before long we had almost filled two bags and could have stayed there all day filling more, but for the girls, whose boredom was confusing me. As a child I would have given ANYTHING to see this many untouched conkers, to actually pluck so many from their little protective cases with my own bare hands. What was wrong with them? Then it struck me that age and generations stood between us. What had happened in the intervening years of our respective childhoods?
Somewhere along the way, children, it seems, have developed a disinterest towards conkers. Yes, you read that correctly.
The girls had to practically drag us and our heavy bags back to the car as our eyes continued to dart over the ground for more treasure.
Then came: “So what exactly are you going to do with all those conkers?”
“Erm…” came my reply.
“Because we’ve still got a huge bag of them under the stairs from last year.”
“Ok ok.”
“Can we make something with them? Oh yes lets make some necklaces and a bracelet and a
great big conker tower!”
“Err yes great…” I muttered, now bitterly regretting stripping the woods of all available conkers.
Sigh. I still live in hope that my children will soon develop a hefty dislike of craft instead of conker collection. Right then, let’s get this over with, where did I put that string?