I HOPE you enjoyed the summer because that, apparently, is all we’re getting this year.

After what has been a generally pretty good few months, the nights have begun drawing in, temperatures are dropping and summer wardrobes are being swapped for woolly jumpers and raincoats.

I could not be happier.

I’ve never been comfortable in hot weather – a few hours in the sun and I’ve turned lobster red and no amount of ice creams and cold drinks seem able to cool me down.

Of course I enjoy a nice sunny day as much as anyone, but give me a clear and crisp November morning over a hazy and sweltering August day any time.

I’d much rather venture out during a rainstorm than a heatwave. At least you can carry a brolly and wear a raincoat to keep yourself dry, but there’s only so much you can do to keep yourself cool without offending public indecency laws.

My idea of a summer getaway is less lounging on a beach in the Mediterranean and more camping in a muddy field in Snowdonia – although if anyone fancies taking me to Greece for a week or two, feel free to drop me a line.

A lot of people moan about spending all the daylight hours chained to a desk at work during the winter months, but to me there’s something oddly comforting about getting home as the sun begins to go down and spending a cosy evening at home.

So there’s nothing I look forward to more than the end of August and the start of the autumn. Although having a September birthday probably has something to do with it, too.

Maybe it’s in my genes – my dad is Scottish and my mother grew up in the most northern part of the north of England, so my programming is probably more geared to braving the elements than getting a suntan.

But before you think I’m a grouchy misanthrope out to spoil everyone’s fun – which is only partially true – there’s certainly things to enjoy about the summer.

Just try and find somewhere selling Soleros in January, for example.

So, while I suspect the majority of you will be lamenting the onset of autumn and sadly packing away your summer wardrobe, for some of us this really is the best time of year.

That is, until the dreadful enforced merriment of Christmas rolls around.

Ok, maybe I am a misanthrope.