Making the Southern Belles Ring

Today's trip down Grandma's memory lane takes me to Salisbury where they met me to assess my cycling skills. I went round and round a park showing off in the freezing rain, having just turned 4. He couldn't understand why I wasn't signalling at footpath intersections and she couldn't understand why we were there at all. Eventually I slipped on some icy fallen leaves and had to get new trousers.
They got me a new bike in Halfords with a blatty hooter that Bobert and Ben liked parping directly into their own ears. Yes, I'm still grimacing.
I demanded my scooter for the return from school and Jof had already said I could scootle round the park so we cornered the swinging basket before all the little Wimbornians got there. Of course, I had to share with all the girls but I don't mind, it was someone to show off to.
Then we graduated to digging holes for conkers. Difficult to see how, but there you are. My pet helper got handfuls of them and threw them at us ("♯♪ It's ♪raining conkers,♫ alleluia♫") and then when Jof joined me I roamed the park with my dozen girlie followers finding secret hiding places for them and actually setting out decoy conkers for the boys who were watching my every move.
At about 3 hours after the end of school I got home and started on my plans for world acorn & conker dominatrix. I designed and built a work utility belt with plastic bags attached to carry my booty and OK so I couldn't walk straight with it on and yes, it did collapse rather, sending my collection all over the kitchen floor, but the theory is sound and I shall return to my female followers tomorrow with my maps and plans and, with luck, a flamethrower, why not.