Naming Names, Savant and Prom Queen

Naming Names, Savant and Prom Queen
The jacket pics I designed for my completed novels

Thursday, 21 August 2014

The ALS Ice Bucket Challenge

It’s a thing.

OK then.

Lou Gehrig's Wiki page
In the UK, we don’t know what ALS or Lou Gehrig's Disease is, because that’s what the American’s call it. We tend to lump it in with other forms and use the blanket term Motor Neurone Disease. That’s what we’re talking about. Although, I believe that in the UK the money is actually going to Macmillan, the cancer charity. 

People, lots and lots of people are taking buckets of ice or iced water and throwing it over themselves on camera. They donate ten bucks to the ALS charity and challenge someone else to take the challenge. Anyone who’s challenged and doesn’t accept is required to pay 100 bucks to the charity. (Gosh! I've used the word 'challenge' a lot. I hope you'll forgive the horrid writing.)

It’s not a bad way to raise cash. Fourteen million bucks, so far, in pretty short order.

This thing has taken off. I know that clips of very cold, very wet people are all over my FaceBook page.

It’s right about now that you’re beginning to wonder why I’m writing this blog, isn’t it? You all know that I’m more than capable of a thorough-going snark, but what could I possibly have to snark about, right?

Do I care that people are dousing themselves in freezing water? Well, not especially, although I’ll get back to that.

Do I care that people are humiliating themselves? Nope. That’s entirely their choice.

Do I even care that people are essentially bullying and blackmailing each other into performing this not terribly pleasant feat? Well, I suppose anyone can ignore the challenge. Who’s going to check that any payment has been made? Everyone lies, don’t they? Even if no one wants to be seen as a coward. Take a look at Anna Wintour’s clip. She managed to take the challenge and still walk away relatively unscathed, and earn a truck-load of brownie points into the bargain.

Do I care that self-promoting people are performing acts to camera without any concern for or knowledge of the charity they are supporting? Well... This is where things get a little trickier. People show-off in the social media all the time. As someone who uses FaceBook and Twitter to promote work, I actually fall into this bracket too, so I’d be a pretty dodgy pot if I chose to call out the kettles, and I’m not going to do that. Besides, a show-off is a show-off, and he’ll always find something to fill our news-feeds with. If a charity can benefit, where’s the harm in that?

On the other hand, I am someone who does choose which charities I want to support and then I support them regularly and longterm. I think this is important. Most charities have ongoing commitments and need to be able to budget for them. They need to run like business with some expectation of income, and they need regular donations from reliable donors.

Do all charities struggle to raise money for their causes? Of course they do. Bringing in funds is an endless task and it’s bloody hard work. This is another good reason why it’s key that donors are well-informed. I care about the charities I support, and that’s why I continue to support them. No extra time, energy and, by extension money is spent persuading me to donate again, because I am an automatic repeat donor. The vast majority of the bucket brigade do not know what ALS is or care about it more than they care about other things. They will remember shooting their clip and getting cold and wet, but they will not remember to set up a repeat donation to the charity. The next opportunity they get, they will sit in a bath of beans or eat snot or shoot hoops with grapefruits, or any one of dozens of things to make a mini-movie, and some other charity will benefit in the short term.

I always say of children that they don’t need quality time, they need all of a parent's time. When I say that what I mean is that they don’t need a couple of hours every so often of intense smothering; they need a constant parental, background presence. I think charities feel the same way about money.

The ALS charity is no doubt thrilled to have this glut of money now, but they’re left in a bit of a quandary. The people dealing with all that cash have got to be sitting scratching their heads. What longterm projects and strategies can they safely embark on? What can they forecast for their finances over the coming years with this huge blip on their financial graph? Can they expect a fall in regular donations when this fad ends? What does fourteen million bucks buy in terms of medical research? Facilities? Care? In the long term.

A lot of people are having a lot of fun, and while they’re doing it they’re donating a lot of money, and I’m going to stick my neck out and say that’s probably OK in a World where there’s an awful lot of selfishness and misery.

If you took the bucket challenge, I’d quite like to urge you to think about the things you care about and set up a small standing order in favour of a charity that matters to you. The cost of a chip supper or a pie and a pint once a month makes a difference to all of them, and will keep making a very real difference in a very real way for a very, very long time.

Not for nothing, if everyone who took this challenge set up a standing order for ten bucks a month, charities would be better off to the tune of millions a month, more-or-less indefinitely, and that would include the ALS charity. That’s got to be better, right? 

As to people dousing themselves in good, clean drinking water, particularly if it’s water that’s spent time in a freezer? I said I’d come back to that, didn’t I?

Around 800million people worldwide don't have access to clean water and 2.5billion don't have access to adequate sanitation. It's probably just as well that they don’t have access to YouTube either, because they might be astonished to watch people wasting gallons of drinking water by pouring it over themselves. Freezing cold water or ice comes at a price, too, and we all worry about our carbon footprints. According to my internet sources (and they might be wrong, I’m no scientist), it takes one kilowatt hour to freeze 1.8 gallons of water. Go figure.

Thursday, 14 August 2014

Robin Williams

I actually wasn’t going to talk about the death of Robin Williams.
Robin Williams's Wiki page

It is being talked about so very much in the news and on the social networks that there seems very little or no need to become yet another voice speculating on the subject of his death or the reasons for it.

I rarely talk about the deaths of celebrities.

We often think that the famous belong to us, but they don’t. They belong to the people that really knew them. Robin Williams had a family who knew and loved him for the man he really was, and I believe it is their right to mourn in private.

But, and it’s quite a big but... The subject of mental health issues, depression in particular, and specifically suicide has come up, and is being very widely discussed.

We all know that I have some personal experience with depression. I’m having some experience with it now. It’s an embuggerance.

It is also, and I cannot stress this enough... It is also utterly impossible to explain to someone who does not suffer from depression just what it is or how it feels. It is not possible for someone who has never suffered from depression to understand the condition. I have said many times that actually I’m glad my family and friends don’t understand it, and I hope they never do understand it, because for that to happen they would have to go through what I go through periodically, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone... not a living soul.

It is a tragedy that, in the twenty-first century, people, wonderful people are still dying from mental health problems. That anyone can do what Robin Williams felt compelled to do is a devastating indictment of our society and perhaps of our willingness to apply resources to finding out more about how this stuff works, and to treating sufferers.

One in four people in the UK will suffer from some mental health issues during their lifetimes. According to Sarah Boseley, the health editor for the Guardian, two-thirds of Britons are never treated for their mental health problems. Imagine if almost seventy percent of diabetes patients or cancer patients were never treated. Imagine if almost seventy percent of dental cavities weren’t filled or if seventy percent of people who needed a hearing aid or corrective glasses or contact lenses were not offered help.

Just because we do not understand depression, does not mean we can dismiss it, or even question it. You can take my word for it when I tell you that I am depressed. And if you don’t want to take my word for it, you can take my doctor’s word for it.

The depression itself is a big enough struggle.

Well-meaning friends and family-members regularly offer kind words of advice. They often tell me that if I did more of this or less of that, or just worked through it, or put a smile on my face, or any of a number of things, that I would feel better. I do my best, my very, very best to be patient with them, and not to dismiss what they say, and to have that conversation. When I can’t do those things I take myself away from them, because I don’t want to be difficult and I don’t want to hurt them or burden them more than I already do. I don’t want to alienate them, either.

They find me aloof and difficult, and often selfish. I know that they do. I wonder what they’d think of me if they knew me in the full flow of my depression. I prefer they don’t know me like that.

If it can be that tough with the people who love me, can you imagine how it might be with acquaintances? And beyond that can you imagine what it might be like with strangers? Can you imagine what it’s like in a society that constantly questions my strength of character?

I cannot tell you what it is to be depressed. Some people, without actually knowing or understanding what it’s like still know that depression is real, and still have the capacity for the same acceptance they would have for any form of illness. Some people do not.

For the depressed person, there is no way to know who will be accepting of his depression and who won’t.

Some of the people who struggle most to accept it, some of the people who fight it the hardest are those closest to the depressed person, and that only causes more pain.

Depression can be the loneliest place in the World to live.

To anyone on the inside, who understands depression, the suicide of a depressed person is always a sadness and never a surprise.

It is those who don’t understand depression, who speculate, who wonder, who talk, who are hurt and angered and confused by it.

I hope those closest to Robin Williams will come to accept his illness and his death. Who knows, perhaps they accepted his illness while he lived among them. Perhaps they accepted it just as much as they loved him. I hope so.

I hope the time will come sooner than later when people stop dying from mental health problems.

I hope there is still hope.

Monday, 11 August 2014

Fifty Thousand Bicycles in London

No... This isn’t a cue for a song. It’s been done better than I could do it in any case.

We were in London, on Saturday, the husband and I. We were meeting a very lovely, engaged, energetic man who had flown in from Shanghai, not a million miles away from Beijing, and coincidentally, there were a lot of bicycles in the city.

I can’t talk about the lovely man from Shanghai or the business meeting we had over high tea, although I can tell you that the high tea we indulged in at Browns Restaurant in St Martin’s Lane was extremely good. But I can tell you about the bicycles.

I don’t do tube trains. I used to commute to London, back in the day, so I’ve spent my fair share of time on the London Underground. I choose not to do it now, so, when we visit London, the husband and I take cabs. Yes, I suppose it’s more expensive, but we rarely have far to travel, so, if the weather’s good and it’s not too far, we walk. Otherwise we jump in a black cab and ride in style.

Yesterday, we jumped in a taxi at Victoria station with the intention of being dropped off at St Martin’s Lane. Except, what we didn’t know at the time was that there were fifty thousand bicycles in London. That’s a lot of bums on bikes. We took the cab as far as Whitehall. The roads were closed. It was a glorious day, so the walk wasn’t onerous, but there really were a very great many bikes.

Ride London is the flagship event in Boris Johnson’s transport for London cycling program.

There are times when I see bits of madness posted on FaceBook and Twitter and I simply answer with this:

The words you are looking for are, “Oh good grief!”

Ten miles of central London streets were cut off over an August weekend in order to accommodate fifty thousand cyclists. All of those people will be able to say that they rode the London streets on their bicycles. Good for them. I don’t know how many more miles of streets were inaccessible simply as a result of those closures.

The taxi driver we rode with had effectively lost a weekend’s trade. One of my favourite independent shops, somewhere I buy things regularly, was empty. The owner couldn’t have been more delighted to see us, because she had lost a weekend’s trade. The buses weren’t running. International tourists didn’t have a clue what the hell was happening.

Add to this the fact that the entire event had cost money. Someone had to put up all those barriers, employ all those stewards, and pay for the police presence.

Ride London caused massive disruption both actually, on the ground, and financially to the city, which of course means the tax payer, and to businesses.

In the rest of London, those cyclists who regularly ride the streets of our capital city were going about their regular business, as they always do. We saw them. They didn’t seem to be taking part in Ride London. 

Pleasure cyclists appeared to be taking part in Ride London. It isn’t a very great pleasure to ride a bike in any city, never-mind London. It takes skill and confidence, and it takes a will, and often necessity. It is not for the faint of heart, and it is not for the pleasure cyclist.

If any of the fifty-thousand cyclists who visited the capital for Ride London returns with his or her bike for another foray, I doubt it will end well, or with a regular city cycling habit.

I like bikes. I think riding a bike is a wonderful, healthy, sensible habit. I don’t do it, but I do walk everywhere, and I do use public transport (OK, except for the tube), and, as it happens, I don’t drive... I don’t even know how to drive.

As far as I’m concerned anything that promotes an active life, and anything that promotes responsible bike ownership and sensible cycling is a damned good thing. I just don’t think that this event was the way to do that.

People who aren’t terribly keen on cyclists, and that includes a lot of motorists wouldn’t be persuaded to change their opinions on them by having the whole of central London cut off so that fifty thousand cyclists could ride through it unmolested by traffic. People who are on the fence about cyclists, and even some cyclists and some people who are pro-cycling might well be put off the whole idea of having bikes in the city after seeing what I saw yesterday.

A lot of visitors to the capital, a lot of shoppers, tourists, theatre-goers, diners and all those traders, cabbies, drivers and people put out by the event might blame the cyclists.

It’s not their fault.

The Prudential Ride London Free Cycle Event
They were offered the opportunity to cycle around the sites of London, to do what they might not otherwise have the chance to do. Of course they wanted to bring their bikes into the city, and their kids, their fancy bottles of water and squash and their packed lunches and snazzy helmets, and they wanted to ride around Buck House and the Tower of London, the Houses of Parliament and St Paul’s... Who can blame them?

They had a wonderfully sunny day for their event, and I hope they did enjoy themselves.

I just think putting on the event at all was utterly ill-advised.

I don’t think the general public was thrilled to see all those bikes in the otherwise empty streets of central London, and I don’t think it will make cycling in London more popular... or cyclists either for that matter.

I blame Boris Johnson.

If he wants to promote cycling in London: Great. Why doesn’t he do something real? Why doesn’t he spend some real money and build some real cycle lanes and make some real decisions about the volume of traffic that still fills London’s streets?

He doesn’t do it because he can’t. He doesn’t do it because, actually commerce is more important and so is tourism, and he knows it.

Just by the by, today I am celebrating 600 blog posts. Crikey!

Thursday, 7 August 2014

News: Catching Up and Keeping Up

Last night we were at Forbidden Planet for a book signing.

Reviews for Fiefdom
The paperback edition of Fiefdom was available for the first time at the event. We hadn’t even seen it ourselves until we arrived at the shop, and very beautiful it is, too. 

I bloody love Forbidden Planet. Whenever we’re in London, the husband and I always pop in for a browse, and invariably come out with an armful of stuff. It’s one of those mysterious places, though. I don’t know what it is about it, but whenever I get downstairs, I lose all sense of direction, and roam around in endless circles, wondering where the hell I am. It could be that I can’t find north without the sun to guide me, or it could just be that there’s so much lovely stuff to look at that I become easily distracted. Personally, I think there’s some weird kind of magic that happens in Forbidden Planet, but that could just be me.

The Abnetts, second left and second right at FP
with J, Liam and Pete
Anyway Fiefdom was there. We were there. Lots of you were there, and we all had a splendid time.

People turned up with all sorts of things besides Fiefdom, too, including comics, and they bought every remaining copy of the husband’s brilliant, action-packed, funny Guardians of the Galaxy novel, Rocket Raccoon and Groot Steal the Galaxy. If you loved the movie, I urge you to read it; it’s quite brilliant.

So thank you to Lydia from Abaddon, to John and the guys at FP and to everyone who turned up. And I apologise to Pete for momentarily blanking on his name, despite knowing him for years! And for the silly antics with the chair. You’d think by now that I’d know how a bloody chair works; apparently I don’t.

That was the Catching Up. Now for the Keeping Up

November 8th and 9th is the weekend of the third big Black Library event named after that portion of the week. Yes, the Weekender is back! And the Abnetts are back with it!

The husband and I have just been announced as attending this year’s event at the Belfry, Nottingham. What's more, a new Sabbat Crusade book will be launched at the Weekender!

I’m not entirely sure what our schedule will be, yet, but we have told the organisers that we will be there for the entire event, and that they can deploy us any way they please, so expect plenty from us.

We love these shindigs. We like to get down and dirty with the readers. We want to hear what you think, answer your questions and get your feedback. The writer’s lot can be a solitary one... OK, not so much for us, because we have each other, but still... We genuinely treasure the time we spend with the Black Library crowd, and we’re looking forward to it immensely.

We also love to rub shoulders with the great and good, by which I mean the TALENT! And there’s going to be a LOT of it at the Black Library Weekender this year. Yes I know I’m shouting, but the writers and artists who bring the Warhammer, 30K and 40K universes to life are worth shouting about.

I can’t wait to see old friends, reacquaint myself with some of the guys I don’t yet know terribly well, and meet some of the newer writers for the first time. If you haven’t seen the list of attending authors (and Neil, obviously) on Black Library’s website Here’s the roll call:


Tuesday, 5 August 2014

Self-Publishing: The Business Model

I’ve talked about self-publishing before, more than once. In fact, I even wrote a blog called My Last Word on Self-Publishing. It turns out that it wasn’t, because here I go again.

A week or so ago, a Twitter friend of mine asked my opinion on a publishing opportunity. The tweeter is a writer, who, so far, hasn’t been published. My friend feels strongly that the work is strong and should be published, but the right doors just never seem to be open.

I took a look at the deal that appeared to be on offer, and a whole new world of self-publishing opened up before my very eyes.

The company my friend had found was posing as a publishing company and was offering publishing deals to anyone and everyone. It looked like a surefire way for any writer to be published. When I dug deeper I found that a couple of people were working from home, using the same self-publishing tools that any writer can use to publish books. They weren’t marketing their so-called authors, either. The premise of the business was that authors submit chunks of work onto a website where visitors could read and rate them, and pay money for the books they wanted to continue to read, in advance of them being published. Only when a book reached viability would it then get a ‘publishing deal’.

Naming Names
The novel that will probably
never be published because
I won't self-publish
It was a clever money-spinning scheme: part kickstart, part self-publishing, and not unlike the internet writers’ club Authonomy. The authors would be doing all the work, writing the novels, editing and proofing them and uploading them to the site. Then they’d have to do all the necessary social networking to send enough people to the site as readers and backers to get that publishing deal. The site would use self-publishing tools to put out a book, but at no expense to the site-owners. And, of course, those two people at home, running the site would take a cut of the money.

Self-publishing has become a business.

I’ve never been in favour of writers exposing themselves in this way for all kinds of reasons that I’ve expressed and explained all over this blog, but it clearly was a way for writers who didn’t have an audience, who couldn’t break into traditional publishing to get their work in front of people and test the market.

Agents and publishers soon began to take advantage of that and of them, and started to use the self-publishing market as a kind of slush pile. I thought that was cynical, but any writer who made it out of self-publishing into traditional publishing was glad of the stepping stone. I suppose that’s fair enough. A lot of writers were exposed for what they were, which, frankly, wasn’t very good, and some were exploited. I suspect there were those who, with some patience, hard work and help might have been published one day, but who have thrown that chance away.

I think it’s particularly cynical of business types to see a niche to fill, and go for it. They’re working a business model in their favour. They’re scamming writers and skimming money, and I don’t like it. They’re playing to people’s vulnerabilities, calling themselves publishers or small press, and taking advantage and it’s pretty nasty.

Having said all of that, I do think there are exceptions, because I still believe there are idealists in the book world. There absolutely are business types working a model. There are also book lovers, who understand and/or have worked in or on the periphery of publishing, who have also seen the possibilities of this model. They are people with skills and good intentions, who genuinely are looking for new talent. The self-publishing model is a way for them to use their skills, invest in new writers they believe in, and, potentially, make a small living. These people will be hard working, engaged and very probably worth their weight in gold. It will be harder for them to succeed because of the parasites that are spending their time shovelling the shit that’s out there and sucking up to the talentless wannabes.

So, if you’re a writer and you want to be published, and if you find that doors aren’t opening for you, can I suggest a few things.

  • Self-publish  if you must. Do this solo, but very carefully. Start by finishing a piece of work. Have it professionally edited and proofread. Employ someone to work on formatting and cover design, and produce a proper product. Before you publish, set up a website with a blog and get yourself out into the world. Use Twitter and FaceBook and any other social network you like to connect with people who can help you, so that when you do publish your book will be reviewed and talked about.

  • Keep writing and keep working at it, and keep submitting work to all and any agency or publishing house that is accepting submissions. 

  • If you are tempted to submit directly to a small press or a new publishing house and in particular any company that makes big claims on the internet, for heaven’s sake check them out. It isn’t difficult to do this on the web. All companies are registered. It’s easy to find out the names of company directors and a company’s financial situation. If it’s two women working from home with no funding, you’ll soon know about it. Those women might just be hardworking, engaged book lovers who know a thing or two about writing, but if they are they won’t hide anonymously behind a website. If they are, they’ll want to have a relationship with their writers.

Self-publishing was always a minefield as far as I could see. Sadly, the bombs just started raining down.

My previous blogs on self-publishing:

Saturday, 2 August 2014

Let’s Collaborate

About six weeks ago, I wrote this blog about having an itch I wanted to scratch.

I went off piste a little towards the end of the post, but the general gist was that I had an urge to write a comic.

The husband and I have collaborated quite a lot recently.

We’ve always worked together. I’ve been a bit of a back-room boy, and I’ve always guarded my privacy, but when the dorts grew up and needed less of my time and attention I worked more. 

So far this year, the husband and I have co-written two novels, Fiefdom for Abaddon, which is out now, and Tomb Raider: Ten Thousand Immortals due out later in the year. We have plans to do more. We like it. The writer’s lot can be a solitary one, so sharing a project is fun. We work in the same room anyway, and the added pleasure of co-writing makes for companionship and intimacy. 

We count ourselves lucky.

The husband and I share a lot. So, when I got an itch to write a comic, naturally I talked to him about it. The husband was encouraging. If anyone knows just what I might be capable of, it’s probably him. He was all for it.

The subject came up several times over the next few weeks.

We were sitting in our favourite eatery, having supper last week when the subject came up again. We started talking. The talking led to me mooting an idea or two. We use each other as sounding boards all the time, on projects we work on separately and together. Before very long he was chipping in with suggestions of his own.

Supper turned into one of our regular brainstorms... mind maps... Is that what we’re supposed to call them now? Napkins and notebooks and pens were dug out, and we made notes and took long breaks between courses. The staff know us well, and are always extremely obliging. They’re used to us talking animatedly and hunching over our work, pushing plates away, the food only half-eaten and going cold. They’ve got very good at keeping the water glasses filled and the wine flowing.

By the time we were done, we had a plan. We had a comic. We were pretty excited about the whole thing.

You’ll notice that I said we. Six weeks ago, I had an itch. Six weeks ago, I talked about wanting to write a comic. If we manage to sell this idea, it looks as if I might actually get the chance to write a comic. The husband wants me to write it too, but he wants to write it with me.

He’s right. 

That's me on the right.
We both have our strengths, and we have totally different ways of doing things, and that’s why the things we do together are unlike the things we do separately. I don’t know if they’re greater than the sum of the parts (if the parts are me and the husband). I do know that the things I do are different from the things that he does, and that the things we do together are different again from either of those two things.

This comic will require both of our skill sets.

It’s also a great stepping stone for me.

So, the first thing we need to do is talk to some comic book people about this idea.

Except I’m pretty excited, and I’m waiting for some edits to come back, so I’ve jumped the gun, and I’ve put together some character names and some episode headings, and some of the framework for those episodes. I’ve also come up with the sub-title.

The husband loves my work. I’m doing something right.

I do so love it when he loves my half of the collaborative process. It’s generally a very good sign.

So... Anyone fancy an Abnett/Abnett comic book?

Thursday, 31 July 2014

Let’s Talk About Sex, Baby: National Orgasm Day

Yep, it’s come to this... pardon the pun.

Today is National Orgasm Day.

Of course it’s a ruse of sorts. It’s about commerce. It’s a way for a sex toy manufacturer to do more business, and that’s fine.

Frankly (and forgive me if I’m sharing too much) as far as I’m concerned, every day should be an orgasm day, but then I adore the husband and I’ve been in a relationship with him for a very long time. 

My problem with National Orgasm Day is that it focuses on the destination, and we all know that the journey is where the good stuff happens.

We all look forward to our holiday, whatever, wherever it may be, but the looking forward is part of the fun, so is the packing, and so is the travelling. The destination, arriving, and finally lying on that beach are only a small part of the over all experience.

Few of us genuinely prefer to travel alone, but does that really mean that travelling with strangers is a desirable option? Some of us can get where we want to be by jumping on a train or taking a quick car ride. Some of us prefer to travel light. We all need different things.

Of course to get where they’re going some people need luggage up the yingyang and hours or days of travel, and that’s okay, too.

Phileas Fogg
by Alphonse de Neuville & Léon Benett (1873)
Phileas Fogg took his journey with Jean Passepartout, and a mighty undertaking it was too. In order to arrive at their destination they travelled for eighty days by foot, rail, steamship, balloon, horseback, on an elephant and by several other means. They travelled light, but they topped up on supplies along the way. That’s some dedication! I can’t help admiring their ambition.

I’m sure Mr Fogg took other journeys, but, who knows? Perhaps he never reached his destination again.

Almost five percent of women never reach their holiday destinations. That doesn’t mean they’re never prepared to set out on their holidays, and it doesn’t mean they don’t thoroughly enjoy the anticipation or the shopping for new clothes, or the packing or travelling. So why on Earth should they be denied those things? They shouldn’t... Of course they shouldn’t.

Anyone who has to pack more or travel for longer, or take a more circuitous route should be perfectly at liberty to do so. It’s his holiday. The key thing is that he negotiate with the person he’s travelling with. 

It really matters, in the end, who we choose to take our holidays with, whether it’s a weekend getaway or three months circumnavigating the globe. A drive in the country can be a miserable experience regardless of whether all the people in the car manage to reach the agreed destination.

So the next time it crosses your mind to take a holiday think first about who you want to go on holiday with. Think about what you want to pack and how you’d like to travel. Negotiate those things. Once you’ve got all that sorted out the destination shouldn’t be much of a problem at all.

Now off you go and have a fabulous time.