IS it still summer? Or maybe autumn? The weather has been, as the kids say, minging. Cold, wet and blustery.

Yet we’re still at the time of year when a roasting hot day could be just around the corner and yesterday was quite nice, come to think of it.

At the same time, it wouldn’t be too odd to see the first overnight frosts arriving soon, dusting the car windows. But, weather-wise, it’s always a funny time of year, this.

Which makes it all the more strange that it’s the time of year when we choose to make that big decision: shall we take the summer duvet off and put the winter duvet on?

I’m not sure what a tog is exactly, but I do know they measure duvets in them. And I’ve whacked a couple of extra togs on the bed of late.

Actually, I’ve whacked a couple of extra togs and a half on the bed — that half a tog makes all the difference you know.

It’s been an even tougher one to call than usual this year because of the relentlessly poor weather we’ve been having. The temptation has been to go too early. Not me though, I’ve stuck to my guns.

Because when it comes to the Big Duvet Swap (or BDS as I call it), I have a rule — go off the harvest.

Ahh, harvest time—when we traditionally “harvest” the old tinned peaches, pilchards in tomato sauce and out-of-date condensed milk from the back of the cupboard for the kids to take into school.

And with it being harvest time about now, it means it’s also time, in our house, for the BDS.

Of course, being so rigid about it does throw up anomalies. That year we had on holiday in Spain, for example. The hotel manager couldn’t understand why I wanted a thicker duvet when it was 26C at night. Still, it was harvest time in England and rules are rules.

To be honest, since shoving the big duvet on the bed this week, it’s not been completely plain sailing.

At the start of the week I was almost shivering with cold at night — but I have been for most of our rubbish summer. Then over the last couple of nights, with the winter duvet on, I’ve been sweating like a fat mouse in a cat disco.

It made me think though that maybe, just maybe, it was time to ease up on the strict regime and instead of going off the harvest, I should just change the duvet when it gets too cold or too hot.

After all, it only involves going into the loft and takes about 10 minutes.

But that would mean abandoning tradition for common sense — and I am a man, after all.

My wife is already sick of me droning on about it. She says I am over analysing something that doesn’t need analysing at all and pointed out her patience is wearing thinner than our useless summer duvet.