Travels and more...

Eastbourne September 2009 Ok, so this isn't really "our" travels as there was no Richard present, but the journal helped him visualise what the holiday was like. Over to the journal... So it begins... Jaine is going to Eastbourne with her parents and brother. They are travelling down by coach and are staying full board at the Queens Hotel on the prom! There will be excursions!! Jaine and her mother are to be "roomies"!!! It will be an interesting trip... The day before the trip Jaine arrived back "at base" after a lovely few days, with Richard, housesitting for Janet and Andy in Chorley. All she had to do now was to pack - she had a weight limit of 33lbs and was, quite unbelievably, under her allowance by the time everything was packed. She had to get to her parents by 08:45 the next day, so an early-ish night was in order! It's a long way to Eastbourne The journey down took about seven hours all told, including

This is the first blog update in the Chronicles of the Wills or, as you will soon begin to know them as, the Dynamic Duo - amongst other names. The NBs are always in the first person by the way, just to mix it up a little 😊 Cote d’Opal, France  July 2009 Richard informed Jaine that the tent he’d bought for their “big adventure” had been described by Mike as “a bit small”. Hmmm, well at least they’d be cosy, thought Jaine. The night before, Richard and Jaine decided to try the tent. It was packed into a bag no bigger than a Hula Hoop (the non-potato snack type), and Jaine was a bit fearful that it was going to be “too” small. She need not have worried; once the tent had exploded into life in the lounge it was actually huge! Richard was chuffed and, after a long time spent admiring it, got the instructions out ready to repack it. What a palaver! Eventually, after 20 or so attempts, the huge tent was back in its tiny bag. Result! The big day arrived, and Richar

I've always loved writing. When I was very young, I used to make up my own stories having read every book I owned, plus half of the available books at the library. I'd even exhausted the stories that my Dad used to make up for me; I tired of the conventional very early on. Perhaps that is where I got it from. Dad was a joiner by trade and an excellent one. He made several items of furniture for our home and made me a few things when I moved out into my own place, including a gothic inspired bookcase which he and I designed together. He also used to write, not novels or anything like that but poems, limericks and letters. Lots of letters. Not quite to the level that Spike Milligan did but a significant amount nonetheless. So, he was a creative man. Clearly. Thankfully I inherited that gene. When I was at College, I wanted to be a music journalist. I lived and breathed music, read the NME, Kerrang, Smash Hits and any other music publication I could get my hands on. I wan