Conkers and the Jellyman All these autumn woodland walks I’ve been doing recently have made me think back to autumn as a child. It takes me back to trekking through the woods conker picking and hoping to avoid being shot by the infamous ‘Jellyman’. Many of our 1990s childhood games had a folk horror element This story isn’t really about the game but for those not familiar with it, it might be good to know why conker picking was so important, why we were willing to risk a run in with ‘The Jellyman’ to get them. Conkers is such a great part of childhood folklore in Britain. A conker (horse chestnut seed) is pierced with a hole and then threaded with string, or shoelace. Players take turns, using their conker to bash the other player’s conker like a wrecking ball with the aim of smashing it. The last conker remaining is the winner. There are all sorts of folk remedies about how to harden conkers including soaking them in vinegar, putting them in the cupboard for a year, and the ultimate cheat…covering them in nail polish As a kid in early 90s Northumberland we had extra rules – which were always ignored. There was the ‘Nae yanksees’ rule (supposed to prevent a tug of war if the strings became tangled) and ‘Nae stampsies’. This was also ignored, meaning that if a conker was dropped on the floor a whole hoard of kids would stamp up and down on it to smash it. I have to admit I was never much good at the game. For me, the fun was in the adventures to go and collect the conkers. Conker Picki ng My Uncle would always take myself, my cousin and our mates conker picking. And he took it quite seriously. He once got in an argument with a vicar who claimed he was ‘destroying God’s creations’. He knew the best place to get conkers. This meant trespassing into the grounds of a nearby mansion house. We would creep through the woods to seek out these three magical conker trees. We loved collecting our hundreds of conkers – but was always blighted with fear of The Jellyman. Supposedly The Jellyman was an old gamekeeper of the hall. Seemingly he was solely employed to stop children poaching conkers. He had a stun-gun known as ‘The Jellygun’ which he would shoot you with, turning your legs to jelly and stopping you from running away before you were caught by the police, or maybe a rabid pack of dogs. I never saw him mind. My Uncle was good at spotting him- then shouting ‘Run – The Jellyman!’ and we would sprint away terrified. Every year. Learning to see through my uncle’s bullshit was a major part of my childhood. Then came the walk home, through the woods, in the dark. We would glance over our shoulders, wondering if the Jellyman had left his territory to follow us. My Uncle always claimed the streets were more dangerous and there was nothing to be scared of walking in the woods in the dark. I think that was because actually the scariest thing in the woods - was my Uncle.