IT might have only lasted a few stolen days but last week's sunshine was enough to re-awaken my love of summer.

It's just the best time of year, isn't it?

And I've got my fingers, toes, and everything else crossed that we get a good one this year.

Some people aren't so keen on summer. You know, the ones Peter Kay famously made fun of: “Oh it's warm. I like it warm but not this warm. There’s warm and there’s warm. Sticky weather, clammy. I can't get me breath. Good! Have a Solero and shut up!”

Some people prefer other seasons; they argue that you can't beat the clear blue sky and weak sunshine of a crisp winter’s morning; snuggling up on the sofa with a blanket when it’s cold outside.

Others love the crunch of leaves underfoot and the rich colours of autumn.

I admit that spring has a sense of optimism and renewal that no other time of year can match (and it has Easter, a time when it's practically compulsory to eat vast quantities of chocolate).

But, for me, nothing rivals a long hot summer.

Life seems better in every way when the sun shines — evenings are lighter, you get to wear better clothes, there's the chance to develop a healthy tan, and there's the sheer enjoyment of being outside without having to wrap up.

Some of my favourite memories involve good summers. There was that scorcher in 1995, the summer before my GCSEs, when me and my friends would spend the days sunbathing on the roof of the library and our evenings drinking 99p wine in the park.

And then there was the 2003 heatwave, the year when it got so hot I once woke in the night for a cold shower (I swear steam came off my head when the cold water hit it).

When the sun comes out to play, everyone's mood lifts (“It's the vitamin D,” people tell you). Strangers smile at you in the street and it’s not such a battle to drag yourself out of bed in the mornings.

We all get more sociable too. In winter we scurry home after work, bolting our doors until the next morning, with just the TV to keep us company.

In summer everyone’s up for drinks after work, Saturday afternoons are spent having barbecues with friends, and Sundays usually involve pub beer gardens or drives to the sea.

Everyone starts wearing white, and high heels are cast aside in favour of flip-flops.

I love nothing more than going out for the afternoon in the summer with just my purse in my pocket, no umbrella, no handbag, no coat.

Summer to me represents freedom.

So that's why I'm channelling this request to the cosmos — Noel Edmonds-style.

Please, please, please, give us some nice weather this year.