I strongly suspect that by the time this column is published our rare heatwave will be over (and as a parent I know without fail that the beginning of the summer holidays brings the rain!).

But whilst it’s here I find myself getting all misty eyed for the summer days of my youth.

As a film enthusiast you have to understand that my memories of childhood summers are not of hanging out at the park; riding a hand-me-down bike in the street; or make shift paddling pools in the garden - but rather of queuing for hours outside a cinema to see the latest blockbuster.

Thus Indiana Jones and Return of the Jedi are indelibly linked to glorious sunshine, and it’s this time of year that I find myself returning to them.

Do you remember having to queue for a film? Did you ever wait for one, two or more hours to see the newest release? I suppose for anyone born in the last twenty years that seems like a terribly odd thing to do, like waiting all afternoon for a bus to turn up.

As a child passionate about film in the 1980s, queuing (without even the guarantee of getting in) was all part of the anticipation. In the days before the internet, information about a new film was drip fed to you: a few pictures in a magazine, an interview on the radio and seeing a trailer ONCE at the cinema.

And do you know what? Anticipation is a sweet thing.

Sure, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984) is not a cinematic master piece, nor even the best Jones film. But I will always hold it in great affection because I vividly recall being 12 years old, sat patiently outside the ABC Bristol Road, Birmingham on a sunny afternoon, staring up at the poster (that I had scrutinised in every detail), giddy with the anticipation of the adventure that awaited.