LET THERE BE LIGHT ALL HAIL THE SUNROOF

For many Britons, spring is a line in the sand; a time for urgently shaking off six months of gloom and embracing things that seemed unthinkable just a few weeks before. Eating outdoors, ordering jugs of Pimm’s and wearing insubstantial footwear in temperatures that would have other Europeans still in puffer jackets.

It’s a panicky form of hedonism that goes some way to explaining why Britain has the highest incidence of convertible car ownership in Europe.

Except, the trouble with actually owning a soft-top is there are only seven days in our calendar year on which they actually make sense. The rest of the time it’s all leaky roofs, rubbish boot space and permanently unkempt hair. Not to mention a megaphone announcement to the world that your mid-life crisis is officially underway. Far wiser to take advantage of the increasing number of models which offer the panoramic — or unfeasibly large — sunroof.

As a kid, even the most basic car sunroof held exotic associations. A glimpse not only into the sky but into the future. A part of the car you were allowed to touch without causing a pile-up, they existed for no other function than pleasure. Best of all, if they were the fully sliding type (and your dad was in a good mood), you could stick your head up through them. That’s a level of nostalgia that doesn’t go away.

Today, these windows of wonder can stretch as wide and long as the roof and can be found on cars as small as the Audi A1 or as big as the Range Rover Velar, which offers fixed or sliding options. Sitting in one for the first time can bring out the eight-yearold in all of us. Only now we can reach the pedals.