I’M beginning to think this is one of the best summers we have had in a long, long time, and isn’t it lovely!

Windows are open, we are wearing lighter clothing and people are walking about with their heads held up and smiling.

There is no doubt about it: this sort of weather brings out the best in the British.

We actually stop and talk – and I mean talk – to each other, not just grumble about the awful weather.

And aren’t the gardens looking good? Well, at least other people’s are.

Several years ago I decided that I would no longer be a slave to mine and so I changed it into one of very low maintenance.

The first thing to go was the long lawn, which was very much like a guilty conscience, as every time I looked through the window it frantically beckoned me to ‘please come out to mow’.

But now I have flagged areas and paths around the flower beds and borders, and so I feel completely guilt free.

When we lived up Green Lane, we had a long back garden and at the end of it my dad had a little greenhouse where he grew tomatoes – and no tomato has ever tasted as sweet as the ones he gave me straight off the plant as a treat.

You see, my dad was a rather stern man, not given to shows of affection, but when he did little things like that, I knew he loved me.

I’ve put on a pair of slippers that were bought at Christmas. Is this significant? And why do I ask?

I remember my mum refusing slippers. She said they were signs of giving in, of moving from one stage to the next.

Well! I’m just glad that there’s a next stage.

I was looking at those slippers in their box, and for a moment I was back at Newmans slipper works and inspecting them for flaws!

It’s a funny thing, our past. It’s always with us, often overlaid and we think forgotten, but little incidents can bring it all flooding back.