After a Saharan summer, when I feared our climate had changed for good, I was thrilled when, last week, the temperatures plummeted overnight and autumn arrived.

I had been feeling down-in-the-dumps, to say the least, because of press reports like this one: ‘Britain could bake in the heatwave until the end of October, according to the latest long-range forecasts.’ And this one, from the beginning of August: ‘Britain is predicated to continue to bask in temperatures of 30 degrees for another THREE MONTHS - with the Met Office expecting the heatwave to continue until October’.

Was my favourite time of year - the lovely crisp, dry days of September and October - consigned to history, never to return? After a hideously hot summer, it was too much to bear.

But here it is, that recognisable nip in the air, the gold, red and brown leaves on the trees, and the uplifting sense of anticipation as we head towards Christmas.

Relief all round. I’ve loved autumn since I was a child. People say spring is the time of new beginnings, and that’s true of the natural world. But for me, the year starts in autumn.

Schools and colleges go back. You spot all the new starters, smart and tidy in their school uniforms. At my school that didn’t last for long, and it was only a matter of days before they blended in with the rest of us, shirts hanging out, tie half-mast, trousers grass stained and shoes scuffed.

Where I grew up in North Yorkshire, September was an exciting month, with the fair coming to town. Stokesley fair, which can be traced back to the 13th century, fills the market town with its bright lights and scary rides.

We children went to the fair as often as we could, including during lunch hour at school, when my friends and I would hang around the waltzers and hope for a wink from one of the lads.

Autumn brings toffee apples, and my mum’s were the best. Coated in toffee, with a crunchy hard ‘hat’, and our own apples, they were gorgeous. She would make enough for every child in the village.

Apple picking began in September, with my dad reaching, precariously, to the upper boughs to pluck fruits and throw to whoever was below.

Autumn brings the joy of finding shiny, red-brown conkers in fallen leaves. In the days when schools allowed conker fights we would soak the best examples in vinegar, bake them in the oven, get our dads to make a hole for the string, and take them to school ready to do battle.

I still pick up conkers and pop them in my bag. Rumour has it conkers deter spiders - one of the few unwelcome signs of autumn, as they make a beeline for the warmth of our homes.

The drop in temperature means it’s time to light the fire. Having saved for years for a stove to be fitted, I feared this year we would spend autumn sitting in front of it, wishing we’d forked out for a ceiling fan instead. I worried that all the wood I’d collected from skips, that’s piling up outside the back door, wouldn’t be needed.

But, thankfully, the seasons appear to be functioning normally.

Halloween, bonfire night, fireworks (in moderation) - autumn has everything. And it’s always a pleasure to pull on those chunky knits, snuggly jumpers, and, of course, woolly tights.

Long may autumn, and its wonderful offerings, continue.