I’m frozen with Bank Holiday indecision – are you?

The Bank Holiday weekend is upon us and with it a peculiar mass conviction that we have been transported into a sort of pinch-mei’m-dreaming suburban Narnia where anything is possible. Including fabulous weather.

There will be those doughty souls who head off camping in the Panglossian belief that since it’s May, the temperature won’t be Baltic once the sun goes in. Even though it always is.

Then we have the garden centre tribe, the major boozing session down the pub tribe and the incinerating chicken thighs pre-slathered in supermarket sauce outdoors while wearing puffer jackets tribe.

Each to their own. What they share is an air of use-it-or-lose-it frenzy, as though this precious day off might be taken away unless we lark about like Pearly Kings on a cockle-eating spree.

Still, perhaps best to get the high jinks out of our system before the jubilee jamboree next month when I strongly suspect Queen and country will expect rather more decorum and rather less drinking.