Conkers

I am quite enjoying this rain. My new rain-mac (actually it’s old because it was bought at the Buddhist Centre charity shop – which top tip has a better selection of clothing than your average charity shop – I don’t know why) is the main joy. I check the weather regularly and always the night before, and when it is forecast for drizzle the next morning, I am secretly pleased. I like to wear my peaked hood out on the common; my daily commute to work these days because there are road works down my street, meaning no buses.

I like to pick up conkers from the common on the walk to the station. The dirt from the conkers flake off easily like sand off a shell collected while beach-combing. I collect a conker a day, then give it to a co-worker in the office. Noemi didn’t know what it was called, so when I called it a ‘conker’ she was like, ‘what’s that?’ And I said, ‘that’s what you’re holding.’

She thought it was a chestnut, which to be fair could have been accurate. I checked online and a chestnut (edible) is from a sweet chestnut tree and its outer shell has loads of spikes, like a hedgehog. A conker (poisonous) is from a horse chestnut tree and its outer casing is bumpier and smoother, like skin with acne. I have no idea what kind of shells my conkers came in, so I will have to check tomorrow when I walk under the tree for remnants of their husks.

There is also a gathering of crows every morning on the common. Round about the same time I am picking up conkers, you’ll see an even spread of crows all over the grass. Each crow has a patch of their own and they position themselves equidistant from every other crow, so they’ve got it covered. I’m not sure if this is normal crow behaviour, or if this is just a city full of crows.