There endeth summer. The Last Night of the Proms and all that.

There endeth summer. The Last Night of the Proms and all that.

Last Saturday evening British summer time officially came to an end. For some though it only looked as if this was the case. The last couple of days in London at least, have been glorious and everywhere T- shirts and shorts are still very much in evidence. The number of garden barbecues in leafy suburbia and major cities may be declining but the late summer haze is still with us.

And so it was that on Saturday night one of Britain's most treasured possessions once again came into Kensington, London. The Last Night of the Proms has been with us for as long as anyone can remember and as the fading light of summer's regal pomp slowly sank over a red and blissful horizon, the murmuring masses of the Royal Albert Hall settled down for a night of classical perfection.

Ever since the great Henry Wood first took his bow at the Proms over 125 years ago, audiences have been enraptured by some of the most joyous sounds ever heard anywhere. Rock, soul and country and western audiences may beg to differ but those distinguished composers whose written work may always be adored and revered quite possibly for ever, might have been in spirit once again in the third week of September amid the always acoustically exquisite Royal Albert Hall.

As the autumnal breezes slowly gather in strength and the leaves on the trees assume their familiar shade of yellow, Britain graciously accepts that summer has now regrettably left us for another year and the darker complexions of winter may be only seen in a couple of months time. Every so often in the late summer evening, the low sun and the gentle suggestions of chillier evenings may be too much for some but these are the inevitabilities of the passing seasons and we would never have it any other way.

Back at the Royal Albert Hall on Saturday, the audience, as is usually the case, were swollen with outrageous patriotism, puffed up with full blooded pride, decked from head to feet in eccentric clothing, shrill with shrieking whistles, alive with noisy klaxon horns that could almost be heard at the end of Kensington High Street and finally overwhelmed by a gushing cascade of musical instruments. It was England doing what England does best and Britain drunk on 'Rule Britannia'.

Then we were treated quite affectionately to the memorable strains of George Gershwin and a time when rag time music met Broadway Hollywood magic.'I've Got Rhythm' floated sensuously across the grand old hall of Royal Albert and you almost felt as if Gershwin himself had come back to life and was now in your living room playing the piano. It was music for the soul, music for the senses and music, above all, to savour.

And then you looked across at the orchestra and could hardly help your poetic strain. There were the flirtatious flutes, the weeping, sweeping violins, the charismatic clarinets, the bold bassoons, the very low pitched but charming harps, the thumpingly strident and emphatic drums accompanied by the tinkling pianos with their sweetly enchanting changes of key. All very beautiful and all just right.

You could hardly take your eyes away from the violinists, chins resting comfortably on their violins, eyes spellbound and deep in concentration. In unison, their strings were lovingly manipulated, bows sliding gracefully as nature intended. This is indeed one of the most emotionally charged evenings in  the British social calendar and just for a couple of hours you forgot about the despicable Brexit.

Instead you thought about lilting arpeggios, momentous crescendos and foot tapping pizzicatos. You remembered why Britain always celebrates the Last Night of the Proms. It was the stunning end to another Proms season where, in more recent years, jazz has been so rightly celebrated and the world of film soundtracks has also been so deservedly recognised.

Of course the Royal Albert aficionados have been spoilt by the timeless elegance of Mozart, Beethoven, Elgar, Bach, Strauss, Debussy and Purcell. But amid the vast magnificence of the Royal Albert Hall, the good people who so traditionally wave their Union Jacks would not disappoint. It was happy, humorous, tongue in cheek and utterly triumphant.

So it was that the evening ended with all the style and panache that you would expect on an evening such as this one. 'Jerusalem' and 'Land of Hope and Glory' had everybody on their feet, up on their toes, swaying their scarves, singing with full throated joy, a full congregation of choirs whose voices seemed to be soaring into the roof of the building with every passing minute and hour.

If only you could have bottled an evening at the Last Night of the Proms for posterity then some of us would gladly have taken it and just enjoyed it. It is an evening like no other if only because it allows Britain to revel in its sacred rituals. It is one of the few occasions throughout the year where people from across the nation can let go of their inhibitions, cheer to the rafters and then, certainly at the moment, remind the rest of the European Union that Britannia rules the waves. Well, not quite but almost.