As a kid, I vividly remember getting up at 6am, sneaking out the house and walking a mile in heavy wind and rain to a forest of Horse Chestnut trees. Running around under the canopy, listening for the plonk of another shell hitting the ground, I would spend an hour or two gathering up the treasure. Then with a full bag I would return home just in time to switch into school clothes and appear in the kitchen before Mum and Dad got out of bed. I loved conker season.
So when I saw some conkers lying smashed on the road I harked back to more youthful days.
Some internet searching and I discovered that The World Conker Championships took place near the market town of Oundle. This competition has been running since 1965 and I had previously spotted some press coverage of the event from other years. More importantly they still had a few spaces left and, as it was all for charity, it wasn’t long before I had convinced Sue and Adam to join me on our road to world domination.
On the Sunday morning, immediately after failing to secure some Glastonbury tickets, a couple of hours drive found us outside Peterborough in a pub’s field with a few hundred other cars.
It’s was a small site full of lots of crazy people decorated in fancy dress, some conker themed other just plain silly.
Adam was up first and soon dispatched a kid two year his senior. He was through to the 2nd round.
Next, Sue was on a platform battling away with her chosen conker. Unfortunately a fatal blow soon turned her role from competitor to spectator.
Next it was my turn. With a handshake, the pleasantries were over and I set about swinging my conker at the opponent’s. My shots were glancing and it wasn’t long before I started to receive some brutally accurate blows. But as luck would have it, although the attacker had the accuracy he didn’t have the conker and it smashed under its own force.
Adam and I are now through to the 2nd round and start to ready our speeches for the assembled cameras from the BBC and Sky.
However after some dodgy play for his opponent, Adam is knocked out.
I’m the last hope for the Stafford crew, but although my accuracy greatly improves, my conker isn’t up to the onslaught I ask of it, and I’m soon holding just an empty string. Oh well, no fame and fortune this year.
In the end, Adam’s opponent gets beaten in the finals. Sue’s opponent however wins the Ladies competition and is crowned Queen of Conkers. All so close.
In all, a fantastic day out, and well worth the little effort to drive across the country. I wouldn’t be surprised if I see myself over that way another autumn morning.