A typically poetic turn of phrase worth pinning at the top of our August calendars as we prepare to grouse about traffic, trippers, sunburn, soakings, noise, nettles and crawling nasties… and take all the good things for granted.

It’s the main holiday month, shorthand for rigorous examination of tolerance levels in family and community where varying ages and interests tug in different directions.

One man’s carnival is another man’s cacophony. One woman’s shopping is another woman’s shudder. One child’s cry of boredom is enough to inspire cosy thoughts of a new school year and getting late earlier.

Now, when I was a lad and harvest holidays beckoned we had the good sense to go into virtual exile for a few blissful weeks. Parents saw us off early in the morning with sandwiches and a bottle of cold tea and then provided soap and water for tired, dirty bodies as the dusk trumpet sounded.

Such freedom could come at a price. Picking fruit alongside bossy grown-ups and carting corn with grumpy old sons of the soil could turn tedious after a while.

Even so, we relished trust invested in us to follow the country code and honour the family name. We knew the grim consequences of failing........

© Eastern Daily Press