It might only be mid-August, but autumn is definitely in the air. I can smell its sharp mustiness in the early morning, and sense it in the mist that curls round the garden. And I am glad, for autumn is absolutely my favourite time of year. The bright, low sunshine gladdens my heart and fills me with energy. September for me is a time of new beginnings, a chance for resolution after the decadent laziness of summer.

And I come over all Mrs Tiggywinkle, unable to resist the urge to pluck shiny blackberries from the hedgerows and scoop windfall apples from the grass under the tree. I start collecting jars to fill with jewel-bright home-made jam and chutneys.

And there is one thing I lust after, more than anything by Tiffany, Bulgari or Cartier. You can keep your en-suite wet room with underfloor heating or your home cinema. What I really want is a proper larder. A little room off the kitchen (size doesn’t matter) with a stone floor, marble shelving, zinc-lined meat safes and iron hooks hanging from the ceiling. Capacious cupboards with hefty black hinges. Somewhere I can store all the food I am gathering in for the winter months – ropes of amber-skinned onions and nobbly garlic, baskets of rosy apples, strings of chorizo, bottles of sloe gin and damson vodka …

At the moment I’ve got a utility room with a couple of shelves from B and Q over the washing machine, but I shall still take pleasure in arranging the bottles, jars, boxes and packets in a pleasing order while I scour rightmove.com for my dream.