The slightly warmer weather recently has triggered a series of memories. Me, walking down a road in South London on the way home from school. I am wearing a gingham dress. The dress is pink and check and is part of the summer uniform of the school I used to attend. It was early in September round about 1956. I vividly remember how hot it was and how I felt in some way superior to the poor new girls who had been decked out in gym slips, blouses and ties (the then winter uniform.) At the same time I was a) cross at being at school in the lovely weather; and b) not looking forward to the dreaded gym slip later in the month. I always did look like a potato sack.
Well, some of them were.