Well, I would say 'summer' - but will it be? I would say 'holiday' but tell me this: - do parents ever get one?
I have to confess to being a mite Meldrew about the whole vacation thing. I'm not really sure I like holidays that much. Or rather, I like the being away - I love seeing new places, doing new things - but I can't stand the 'going'.
It's not really even the travelling that does for me; I quite like journeys. I enjoy protracted peregrinations as much as I enjoy arriving at our destination.
So what is it, then? What casts such a long shadow over all my attempts to have a happy holiday?
It is this: packing. Yes, packing. Packing cases, packing the car, unpacking, thinking about packing, washing clothes and making everything ready for packing and anything else to do with the bloody packing.
The British weather doesn't help either. If only a couple of pairs of shorts, some polo shirts and a pair of sandals would suffice. But, no. We've got to be prepared for any and every meteorological eventuality. Come rain or shine we've got to have the clothes to match.
And then there's the kids clutter; the paraphernalia that you need for taking little people anywhere. Once you've folded the pushchair and packed the travel cot there's little room for anything else - which ought to make things easier, but doesn't.
So, we're girding our loins again for the loading and unloading marathon and one thing's certain. By the time we've done all that washing and ironing and packing and fetching and carrying...
... we'll need a holiday!