Do you share my memories of the Autumn conker time?

Question

Do American children play conkers? A horse chestnut tied on a piece of string, and used to smack another kid's conker.

Do you share my memories of the Autumn conker time?

The local churchyard would be rife with conker theft.

Mossy graves strewn with debris. Trees, leafless and bereft.

The Bobby warned 'Wait till your folks see what you did to the church!'

We took no heed just carried on our desperate conker search.

We kids felt no remorse. We had no hidden shame

Only a desire to copy past heroes in this annual pagan game.

Long repeated stories of great conkers outliving their peers

Was as nectar to our gawping mouths, and music to our ears.

To own a Champion 'tenner' (that number with a legendary ring)

Was all we really wanted with the glory such fame would bring.

I once owned a 'niner'! My status grew, my reputation soared,

Until that is I became the target of the conker-slinging hoard.

So, my fame was brief. My precious 'niner' swiftly met defeat.

Dashed to smithereens by blatant underhanded, foul deceit

I knew, and my conquerer knew I knew his conker had spent all day

Soaked in brown vinegar and baking on his Mum's oven tray.

Back then accusations of cheating weren't lightly banded about

Not on my tough Council Estate if you wanted to go back out.

So I accepted defeat without murmur, not rising to take any bait,

Praying next Conker Season the slimey toad'd meet the same fate.

The other day my eldest grandson

And his mates called in

(just to show their faces)

'Gran. We're off up the old churchyard.

Got a skewer and some laces?'

Suddenly,

I recalled bruised knuckles and fingers,

painful result of the useless swingers,

the hopelessly tangled lines

And my brief moment in the sun,

all those years ago in the

Autumn conker time.

*Bobby - local policeman

Answer 1

Its lovely, Takes me back to fun conker days when we would collect more than you could ideally hold.

Answer 2

Yes, I have encountered your game...but alas, the Chestnut Blight hit many of our areas in the states.  Wonder now how many of the trees are left.

Answer 3

Great story.  For a moment I thought you were going to discuss slinging road apples!  lol  Mine was tackle tag without pads.  

Answer 4

Aww, I love it!!

Americans don't even know what a conker is.

I'm a 41yr old homesick Brit, living in the States and your poem just brought memories flooding back. Unfortunately, its all video games and computers these days, but I will always remember hunting for that perfect conker and the mess we would leave under the trees from the shells. Thanks for the memories.  

Answer 5

I'm in total ignorance of this game - of course - I was a city kid raised in San Francisco - the only nuts - were walking around on the street.

Definition: conkers, a game in which a child swings a horse chestnut on a string in an attempt to break that of another player.

I would assume - the ability to aim for the conker of another player - took great practice.  I could just see myself missing - quite a lot - and landing misplaced blows - to the other child - instead of his conker ♥

Answer 6

I have never heard of it.  After reading your poem, it makes me want to play.

Answer 7

A homosexual had my

trucked towed last night because I

stole a bag of "popcorn" from him

(and also the wife is never pregnant)

He say, "Hey, bud, I think you should come back here,"

so I leaves, I runs out the door and he tell me,

"Don't ever come back here bud,"

so I don't know what I do.

Perhaps I will sever

his goatee, leaving

only his bloody jawbone.

I will then put it in a

jar next to the ninth flag by

my mantelpiece

while all the buildings

outside burn down,

and tell him to smile for me,

make a coat out of his skin.

It's disgraceful

It's always me taking,

with my crumby punctuation,

the p**s and the blood to

the factories while the brutes

tattoo their names and loves

to great sidewalk biceps

Like rainbows that harness

the earth

so dense

and hot

and spindling.

Hold on

I hear the mules calling me.

I must go to them and

lead them away from here.

Somewhere closer to death,

to truth.

Where's the Benadryl?

Where's the sudafed?

Answer 8

I'm not American but I certainly remember those days.  I am 63 years old and grew up with the custom every autumn.

Answer 9

This is absolutely HILARIOUS! (Shut up, giant eraser head!)

At first I thought the conker was used to conk another kid on the head!

We had a game called Kebangers. 2 hard plastic balls on string about 8 inches long attached to a handle. The idea was to get the balls clacking each other over and under the handle with an up & down motion. (Does that make sense?) Any-hoo, you always knew who was no good at it because their forearms were covered in bruises.

Glad to hear your grandchildren are keeping the tradition alive!

Answer 10

oh yes putting in oven to get hard or paint in nail vanish

good old times

Answer 11

Never heard of this one from my English granma.  But I do know about Mothering Sunday...our church observed it every year, with the little simil cakes.  I'm sure I spelled that wrong, GJ, please let me know if I did.