As October comes to an end and the fiery displays of November beckon, there’s just enough time to tell you of the hustle and bustle this year’s conker season brought to the village of Sleepy Hamlet.
Because this village, stuck in a time warp of country persuits and old time ideals and traditions as it is, refuses to pay attention to the health and safety killjoys who would ban anything that raises a smile, the conker season is a real boon.
All the village children, some with parents of long memories, head out Pogle’s Wood for the annual conker cull: This involves the hurling up of sticks and the cascading down of conker shells. The rich bounty is then inspected for potential champions and then its off home to the kind warmness of their respective cottages to soak them in vinegar, bake them then thread the future champs while the fire crackles in the background.
This year though, Rev Batwing had taken an extra interest in the common conker and it’s previously hidden qualities. You see, Rev Batwing has a terrible fear of spiders and lives, paradoxically, in the very epicentre of the villages spider activity, the vicarage. So when he heard that when conkers are placed in all four corners of each room it would ward off the invading arachnids, he was off at the crack of dawn, searching the undergrowth for a few pounds of spider deterent
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