More than conkerors

A question for readers not in Britain: what do you do with conkers?

Here conker collecting is a traditional feature of autumn. Some people, children especially though not since it was banned in some schools for  health and safety reasons, play the age-old game of conkers. 

Pierce a hole through a conker, thread string through and knot it, and try and wallop your friend's conker. Champions are those who can crack everyone else's conkers while theirs remain intact. A variety of cheats can be used to make your conker harder, such as soaking in vinegar I believe.

I've never been successful at conkers but that doesn't stop me collecting them with a passion. A newly-collected conker has the glossiest, the most beautiful sheen. It is said that keeping bowls of conkers around your home deters spiders but I'm not convinced of the deterrent value.

I ask what you do in other countries because in Italy we came across a patch of grass with several conker trees and hundreds of conkers just lying there on the ground. I couldn't believe it. In Wales you have to get there early on a windy day to find the best conkers before they're taken by someone else. That obviously wasn't the case here.

We filled pockets, hands and Husband's hat, and I still had to be dragged away. 'Just one more! Oh, look at this one. Just this one!'

Yes, I know those green things aren't conkers. We didn't know what they were and meant to look it up but forgot.

Conkers, as you will know, come from the horse chestnut tree. Sweet chestnuts, the kind you see being roasted on stalls on snowy London streets in scenes from Dickens, come from the Sweet Chestnut tree.

On one of our walks in Italy, while I ran races with the children, Husband disappeared for some time. When he eventually returned he had a hatful - very useful a hat - of sweet chestnuts, which he brought home with the intention of keeping to stuff the Christmas turkey. That plan was foiled when he discovered they didn't keep so he decided to roast them straightaway.

He cracked them, placed them on a baking tray, and left them to roast. Then he went back his room and started playing Fortnite.

A little while later downstairs I noticed a funny smell. Now, funny smells aren't entirely out of the ordinary since my nose went a bit berserk so I ignored it for a while until it became too strong to ignore. I followed the smell into the kitchen, opened the oven door, and closed it again quickly as a plume of smoke burst out.

'Husband!'

Turned to crispy charcoal.

P.S. Just tried to find out what that green intruder is and have failed. Any suggestions?