September 18th – Ah, the season of the conker.

Every year, I point out the same truism: that few men can pass a conker lying on the ground and not pop it into their pocket. It’s a primal instinct from childhood, when they were seemingly so rare, and highly prized. 

Despite the leaf-miners and cankers, the horse chestnuts have had a fruitful year and the beautifully shiny, leathery nuts lie in their split spiky husks on the ground beneath many a rural tree. This one, spotted near Burntwood, ended up in my pocket too.

It’s be rude not to.