I struggle with this time of year. The sun is still shining but the mornings are crisper and there is definitely a smell of autumn in the air.

While parents are packing their young ones back off to school, long hot summer days for them are over and thoughts are already turning to whether little Jimmy needs a new winter coat, or whether Emily might need some tougher shoes to cope with the colder weather.

Me meanwhile, I’m still waiting for a week-long run of summer evenings where I can sit down the garden soaking up the evening heat and remembering that this is what summer used to be like.

I do love our changing seasons but as the chill draws ever closer, it does seem so hard to say goodbye to the sun.

Maybe the memory of the summer of 1976 has been rose-tinted over the years.
If I’m honest, I don’t really remember it as being significantly different from the others.

When you’re five, all your summers seem glorious. The paddling pool in the garden seemed to be filled to the brim for days on end, and when there wasn’t a hosepipe ban, the water sprinkler would be on for hours until we’d run through it so many times the grass it was meant to be quenching had been turned to mud.

Then we’d badger mum to let us have a washing up bottle as a makeshift pistol for water fights in the street.

Mum made ice lollies from orange juice and on really special days, we’d be treated to an ice cream from the visiting van.

Trips to the seaside usually meant a day out at Tankerton, where dad would row out a dinghy and we’d jump out and we’d swim from behind hanging onto the safety rope, or there would be days at The Strand, either in the paddling pool (that is no more) or the outdoor pool.

Don’t get me wrong, my summer has been wonderful, maybe too wonderful, because it feels as though it’s over way too soon.

Friday night our local pub hosted a charity do and there was good food, wine flowing and dancing on the patio to a live band until late into the sultry evening with wonderful friends. It was blissful, and felt just like a summer evening should.

So please, Mother Nature, can we just have a few more weeks of warmth before I have to start thinking of bringing the logs in for the fire?

I love a bit of Facebook but I’m not your best Facebook friend.

I’m the kind of person who loves catching up on what other people are up to, liking one thing, sharing another, but forget to share much of my own stuff.

I am trying to do better.

However, one thing all this photo posting isn’t helping me with is my wardrobe.

I had one of these “timehop” things pop up on my page the other day, reminding me of a party we attended on a boat cruise up the River Thames to mark my nephew’s birthday.
“Remember this from five years ago today?” asked the post.

I certainly do, and it was lovely but the dress I was wearing is still in my wardrobe, still being kept for special occasions.

When I looked back in some of my other photos, it also makes an appearance at two weddings, another birthday and an awards ceremony.

So the dress is being promoted to “smart work wear” so I can get a bit more use out of it in situations where I’m not going to be photographed.

An urgent shopping trip for a new party dress is also on the cards.