As much as I love the holidays, there’s something special about the return to school for the new term and I have to say, I really enjoy our walks together. We have a few streets to walk along, before we join our local common, and then back to streets, all tree lined.
My clever daughter spotted the difference between this year and the last.
“There are lots of brown leaves on the ground Dada”, she said to me, while I was busy admiring the beautiful blue sky.
She was right. Autumn has come particularly early, I thought.
Our walk to school takes us past several enormous horse chestnut trees and Joseph, being that bit older, now enjoys rolling conkers out into the middle of a (quiet) road, before seeing if a car or van will splat it into the tarmac, each time more funnier than the last.
(I don’t care what you say, it is funny!!)
On the way home that afternoon, they both collected an armful of conkers, and I reminisced to them about my conker playing days at primary school. This was met with real excitement from Joseph and so I found myself drilling holes into several conkers within 10 minutes of arriving home.
I talked Joseph through the ‘rules’, how to hold it, how many times to wind the string up around your hand, how to flick it at just the right angle to obliterate your opponent’s conker.
Well, he seemed to take it all on board.
I would show you the picture which came next; one conker still attached to it’s string, scratched and bruised, but intact. The other, just a piece of string, the conker smashed to pieces.
I could, but I won’t.
The smashed one was mine.