It’s a familiar scene of devastation from my childhood. Battle worn, cracked and broken, hopes and dreams shattered as another beast hits the deck and dies a death.
Conkers.
Oh how I loved the days when Goose Fair came to Nottingham and the netball courts were filled with rides; instead of sport, we went conker hunting, crashing through the leaves above the Forest (an open and bare piece of concrete, I never did understand that) and hunting for the prized nutty seeds that hide beneath them. I still get a thrill when I find one, can still sit and run them through my hands for ages and not get bored of the joy of how they feel.
Bene has been playing with some of the ones Fran and her friend found this week.
Eventually though, he lost his stash to Maddy, Daddy and the nice drill in the garage that can make really straight holes.
They had a lot of fun. Maddy is much better at it than Max. She is now the owner of a 29er.
Perfect autumn family fun. An ordinary moment to remember.
