I'D been intending to write about conkers this week anyway, when I spotted an item in a paper which should have surprised me but didn't. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Conkers have made an appearance in our house in the last few weeks, and when I came back from holiday one big fat shiny one nearly dislodged me on the stairs. My grandson has become fascinated with them, encouraged by his dad who obviously remembers being something of a conker king himself. They had already been out to the woods and returned with bags full. I was charmed by this, thinking that how nice that in these days when small children hanker after Game Boys and electronic toys, the simple fruit of the horse chestnut can still work its magic. My grandson told me excitedly that he already had a champion, which had destroyed several of his dad's conkers without so much as a chip. I didn't even mind when I discovered that all my kebab skewers were bent, my ball of string used for tying up meat was somewhat depleted and my larding needle had totally disappeared. When I heard that the conker craze had reached the school, and lots of little boys and their fathers were preparing harder and tougher conkers to fight with, I thought that it was refreshing that kids could still play the old fashioned games without some politically correct person pointing out the dangers, both physical and mental, which could perhaps emerge from what is essentially a bit of harmless violence. In less than a week I spotted a report, telling me that somewhere in the country where conkers were also in full swing, a head teacher had, while not banning the game, insisted that pupils playing conkers must in future wear goggles. This was the updated version of what your parents always yelled at you when you did anything remotely dangerous like playing with catapults or recreating William Tell's favourite hobby: 'Stop doing that, it'll have your eye out.' All parents say it, probably all over the world. Probably there's an ancient Greek version etched on a temple somewhere which says roughly the same thing. We've all heard it, we've all ignored it. Most of us still have the standard number of eyes. Now I accept that conkers are not the safest thing in the world. From the collection of them (falling out of a very tall tree or being hit with the stick you're throwing up into a very tall tree) to the extraction of them from their casing (chronic prickle rash or infected puncture wounds). From the various methods of hardening them (severe burns to the fingers) to the boring of the hole through them (stab wounds on hands, arms and if you're very unlucky, feet) And that's even before you play, when you could logically get anything from severely bruised hands right through to concussion. But hey, it's more fun than a yo-yo and the equipment is basically free if you don't count the kebab skewers. I dare say that goggles won't be enough for some areas. Soon children will have to wear full anti-conker helmets, gloves, elbow pads and knee protectors. They'll go to school looking like miniature American footballers, all because they want to swing a glossy brown nut on the end of a bit of string. Where will it end? Will tiddlywink players have to have finger protection and insurance cover to tiddle? Will hopscotch be banned on hard surfaces and consigned to approved safe surfaces where children couldn't draw the required squares anyway? Will hula-hoops, should they ever be revived, be out of favour because of danger of dislocated hips? Marbles which might spin off and get that proverbial eye or get swallowed. Yo-yos because they could cause painful finger chafing? All very silly. But remember that some schools have already banned children's gardening because they might get dirty and therefore pick up germs. And I also hear that one daft council was going to chop down horse chestnuts in case the conkers fell on the children and hurt them. Just as other councils have started removing grave stones in churchyards which might, just might, fall on someone if they rocked them very hard, or more likely fitted a block and tackle to them as a joke and then ran back and stood underneath just to see what happens. All this is barmy. Yes, we know that people are now likely to sue if they get hit by falling gravestones or apples knocking them out as they drop from an overladen tree, but really. Should we all remain housebound, playing nothing more dangerous than Snap and Happy Families (come to think of it, cards can be rather sharp)? Children need adventure. They like getting dirty, bringing home disgusting slugs or worms or worse, jumping in puddles and climbing trees. If they play conkers and get a sharp knock on their knuckles they'll learn to be a bit more careful next time. So until someone can provide a list of people who have sustained serious injury through inauspicious use of conkers then we should leave them alone. One thing people seem to like about this column is that it often confirms that whatever little problem they have, other people have them too. It's like having worrying health symptoms and being incredibly relieved when you hear someone else has them as well. Incidentally, if this happens it is usually better not to beam widely and say how glad you are to find they are feeling dreadful, they might take it the wrong way. Talking with colleagues the other day I discovered we all had the same teenage problem at home. The dance of the three dozen bath towels. This involves an absolute dedication to using as many towels as possible in any given week. When you wish to wipe a tiny bit of moisture off your hands you search the airing cupboard for the largest towel you can find, a bath sheet preferably, then you wipe your hands and chuck the towel straight into the laundry bin (if you're a nice tidy little teenager) or onto the bathroom floor if you're not. Repeat this every time you need to dab the corner of your mouth or dry a tiny area on your ankle, working your way through the laundry so that you use bath sheets up first, then bath towels, then big hand towels. On no account use a tiny guest towel until you absolutely have to. By the end of the week you should have the satisfaction of seeing adults searching the airing cupboard in vain for something larger than a hankie to wrap themselves in after a shower. When the teenager in question needs a towel for a bath, shower or hairwash then they can really go overboard and take at least three, preferably four, towels, to wrap themselves up like mummies. If an adult should mildly suggest that towels which have only touched a tiny percentage of the teenager's skin and haven't even become slightly damp should be refolded and used again they will be treated as if they have suggested that the said teenager should dry herself (and it's usually a she) on a disease ridden piece of material which is riddled with germs adhering in their millions to the fibres. A colleague, who has more than one teenager to face in her house and thus is toweless in Liskeard on many an occasion, thinks she has found the solution by issuing each child with its own towel set. Once these are deemed dirty, such as when they have dried the little finger of the child's left hand, they are then responsible for washing them and getting them dry. They are not allowed to use any other person's towel in the house. It sounds good in theory, but I'm not sure if it would work. I seem to remember a similar scheme I once instituted over the excess use of cups by putting away all but one each, saying merrily that everyone could then wash up their own cups. Within a week certain people had drunk out of sugar bowls, milk jugs and at least one of the gravy boats and were already eyeing up the dog's bowl.

Stop press: latest news on the conker front. Two schools have banned conkers in case they cause severe nut allergy in pupils. Nutty is about the right word.

- Mary Richards