Hail the conkering hero …

Wednesday 14 Oct

I don’t really have all that much to say about conkers, except that there are heaps of them around at the moment, enough to justify the title of this post (if anything really could justify it!!!). This is actually another “quintessential” post, and to me conkers are quintessentially English, even though they grow in both Hobart and Melbourne. I guess their quintessence comes from many of the books I read while growing up; I’m of that age where we were only just starting to get a literature of our own in Australia. Most of the conkers here are lying on the ground in either a half-crushed or a whole, ready-to-roll-your-ankles state (or a whole, ready-to-be-kicked-as-far-as-possible state). Watch your step.

Yesterday I went for a stroll across the other side of the River Cherwell. There are meadows here, right in the middle of Oxford, and apparently they haven’t been farmed using contemporary farming techniques. This makes them nature reserves for the kinds of plants that would have existed in paddocks in the middle ages. It’s kind of odd thinking of this cultivated land as being a haven for rare species, that this landscape has heritage value like some sort of wilderness. Now that I think about it, though, it’s akin to so many areas in Australia where the practice of frequent firing by the Aborigines has affected the ecology.

Anyway, on my way back from finding the cache that was hiding in one of the meadows, I was strolling along the banks of the river. It was mid-afternoon (circumstances had delayed my lunchtime walk), and the students of Dragon School (Emma Watson (Hermione) attended school here) had just finished classes for the day. This meant it was time for rowing and rugby. It seemed to be the lads’ first time out with the single sculls; at least one chap was needing a little extra encouragement to tackle the task, whereas another was setting off down the river determined to test how far away he could get before being told off. Meanwhile, on the seven rugby pitches (sorry, let me say that again: SEVEN rugby pitches), there was lots of appropriate shouting and grunting. I’m not entirely sure what the girls were doing during this time (it’s a coed school). I presume they are permitted to row, but I doubt that rugby is part of their curriculum! There were quite a few hockey pitches, though, so perhaps there’ll be some jolly hockey sticks for them.

As I neared the end of my journey I could hear the tail end of a soccer (football) game on one of the playing fields in University Parks. I presume it was a match between a couple of the colleges, but it sounded as if the winning team had a large number of freshers who hadn’t yet learned the words and tune of the college song. It’s only their second week; no doubt they’ll learn it eventually.