Welcome breeze and weather warnings, the great British summer is here!

Well, my dears, there is nought like a weather warning to make one realise that the great British summer has truly arrived. We have endured or enjoyed, depending on your particular weather persuasion, temperatures of 25 degrees this last week and I, for one, am grateful for the gentle caress of a warm breeze this very day. The week before was a most becoming rolling thunder that resounded above my head - I do so enjoy a thunder storm. My late father was also inordinately fond of a good gloriously riotous thunder storm. I remember many a late evening, lights out, kneeling on the bed with curtains flung back, my twin sister and I with my father between us, an arm firmly round each of us, delighting in the crashes and flashes of natures full force. The rain drops seemed bigger, the lightning brighter and the booming crashes wild and hurricane like. Oh, how we delighted in those moments with my father explaining how the gods were throwing rocks at one another. To this day I have a vivid picture of the scene within my minds eye, my darling Father with the biggest smile upon his face, enjoying the spectacle unfolding before us. I do believe, dear reader, that my twin sister and I both still enjoy a good thunder  storm.

Summer was also a time of joy for my parents oft erected an enormous old army tent in the back garden for us to shelter under, eat under, sleep in at night and generally enjoy. The chickens and rabbits, if they had escaped again, wandered in and out as would the various dogs and cats, plus my siblings and I, six in number. The only creatures not welcome were the pair of albino rats my brother kindly added to the menagerie. Such joyous, fun, memories of growing up and the how the seasons formed part of those memories. I am most fortunate to remember them so well, like an old film roll in my head, albeit in the glorious technicolor of the particular season.

One memorable year my parents afforded our one and only family holiday which comprised said army tent and the whole family decamping to a place still dear to my heart along the coastline, barely fifty miles as the crow flies. Reader, we believed that we were in heaven, particularly the second week, which was afforded with much consideration and counting of hard earned pennies on my parents part. I cannot tell the joy of the moment as my twin sister and I realised another week was secured. Such simple delights, fishing, cooking on a simple stove, sleeping, living, laughing under one roof and the freedom, oh the freedom of sea, sand, countryside and spinney. Such innocent, joyful times that memories are made of.