Summer holidays were the smell of freshly cut grass from the park opposite our house, the thrill of Lyons Maid iced-lollies and the adventure of going home to my immigrant parents’ country for August. It was magical and everything was different afterwards.

I am always reminded of Summer Holiday – the innocent Cliff Richards film where a group of young friends took a red double-decker bus to France.

He sang “We’re going where the sun shines brightly
We’re going where the sea is blue.
We’ve all seen it on the movies,
Now let’s see if it’s true.”

We’re going where the sun shines brightly. Isn’t that a lovely idea?