The best British summer in over 40 years has had a very bad effect on me now that it’s over. I am now suffering from that well known ailment SWS, which is a medical abbreviation for Shit Weather Syndrome. Suffering, as I still am, from PHT (Portuguese holiday tummy) and SBEs (Sodding Blocked Ears), at least one of which was caused by swimming with my head in the water of the pool, today’s weather in Bristol has taken me by surprise. Winter is here.

Winter isn’t really here, according to my meteorological pals who tell me that in fact autumn only started on 1 September. But we are quibbling, here. As far as I am concerned, winter lasts from the first day in September right through to the last day in February. And I hate it.

I suppose winter (or autumn, if you are going to be pedantic) crept up on me because were had a late holiday in Portugal where the weather was in the mid to high twenties for two weeks. Somehow, it had not occurred to me that it might somehow be bloody freezing when I got home. Even though technically it isn’t freezing, try telling my feet, who are shiveringly cold. I am going to have to get some socks on and even some full length trouser wear if it carries on like this.

We’ve all been spoiled, though, haven’t we, lulled into a ludicrous false sense of security. Week after week of warm weather followed by hot weather and then warm again. It was the endless summer Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys told us about. But it ended.

And now? Hello Levis, hello coat, hello socks, hello joggers for indoors as well as out. Oh, and my old enemy asthma returns.

Christmas soon enough. A few days of work when it’s too cold and dark to get out and do anything and some of the worst TV you’ve ever seen. I’ll get used to it, I always do.

It was fun when it lasted. Normality slaps you in the face like a wet fish. What else could possibly go wrong?

PS When’s my flu jab due?