Conkers!

Every September, my inner child relishes collecting conkers, especially cracking open the shells of ones peeping out from their prickly cases. I love their shininess and beautiful swirling chestnut shades.

When I was writing ‘The Twelfth Cross,’ I enjoyed finding connections between people living now and those in the 13th century. As the opening part of the novel takes place in the autumn, I planned a scene in the medieval part of the story with a child collecting conkers. But a little voice in my head urged me to check whether Horse Chestnut trees existed in 13th-century England. Lo and behold, they did not. They weren’t introduced until 300 years later - I had to write my scene differently.

Only about 35 tree species are truly native to the British Isles. How different our environment would look without the immigrant trees, like the horse chestnut, which have naturalised and become so much a part of the landscape we know and love.