Good heavens, isn’t it hot! Cold! Wet, windy! I can’t think what on earth we would start our conversations with if we didn’t have the weather.

It’s the one subject that we can talk to anyone about and one that we always agree on. Oh, yes, we might differ on everything else, but the weather is always a safe subject.

I once spent a very short spell in the Arctic and there the very breath you were breathing out froze into ice, so I have never complained about the cold since.

And the one good thing about cold is that you can get away from it, wrap up stay indoors.

But somehow the heat seems much more invasive – but that’s quite enough about the weather.

I have never played tennis, as it was a little too up-market, but I do love watching it and urging our man to win like on Sunday.

Isn’t it funny that even in things as unimportant as games, somehow we are always so nationalistic.

Oh, my goodness, what have I said? I can already hear the sports enthusiasts shouting, ‘What do you mean, unimportant?’ My aunt used to put a notice on her door saying ‘I’m out’ during Wimbledon fortnight and woe betide anyone who transgressed. And if I’m not careful, I’m going the same way.

Recently we were looking at some old sepia photos and it made me think that memories are strange things – both comforting and disconcerting; some happy, some sad.

But wouldn’t it be awful if we didn’t have them and their record of our past and of people that have gone?

For without them, would we be the person we are?

Stop me – I’m getting all philosophical and that will never do in such beautiful weather.

Thirty years ago when I bought a derelict barn that is now my home, folk said ‘you’re barmy’ but now when they sit at my table and look out at the wonderful countryside, they understand.

I love it and can’t imagine living anywhere else. The view from my dining/work table changes day to day, season to season. It’s magic!