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Dad always used to tell us that the year was climbing upwards again into Summer.
What? This was before Christmas, with the cold weather yet to come. Silly Daddy.
Then again, we'd be slowly rolling down into darkness after June.
But I hadn't even had my birthday yet, let alone the summer holidays.
Of all the many things I will remember of my father if I outlive him is the way he marked the changing of the seasons.
Including a pinch, punch on the first of the month.
For a London boy he was in touch with country traditions.
I need to ask him about that. Soon.
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