More for Gina:

At the end of 2008 we moved south to the Isle of Wight - a small island off the south coast of England. As I look out of the window today it looks as though it might be time to change it's name to the Isle of White. It's snowing! Fairly rare apparently.

Where we lived before was about as far away from the coast as it's possible to get in the UK. Now we are ten minutes walk!

When we first came here we really didn't know what to expect, but once we had driven around the coastline we were pretty much hooked. It is surprisingly varied everywhere you go. And nowhere is very far - it's only 26 miles across at it's widest point.

The island is shaped like a squashed diamond and is a little gem. The north coast is a haven for the sailing fraternity. The south has the beaches. We are down on the south west coast just up from Freshwater Bay.

We have always wanted to live by the sea. Karen would love to go sailing. I just like being here. It is reminiscent of holidays I used to spend with grandparents who moved to the Kent coast when I was 10 years old. My parents would put me on a train with sandwiches and pop, armed with instructions as to where to get off, and my grandad would meet me at the other end several hours later.

I have fond and vivid memories of that time and now when I wake I can often hear seagulls, and sometimes the sea, as it crashes on the shore and it reminds me of those holidays.

When I was there I spent hours walking down to the sea with my grandad. He'd suffered three heart attacks. The last one had nearly been fatal. But they moved to the cleaner air and he got himself fit again. Now I ride my bike everywhere. You don't need a car to tour this part of the island as long as you can ride up hills!

If we had decided on a house on the north of the island we would have been near one of the busiest shipping lanes in the world. Back in the day my grandad was an enthusiastic ship watcher. He particularly liked the gleaming white cross channel ships.

These ships occasionally came fairly close to the shore and when they did they created a massive wake that would engulf anyone who was unfortunate enough to be in the sea at the time.

One particular day, when the tide was at it’s height, and my cousin and I were in the water playing on the inflated inner tube which had just been bought for us, one of the ferries sailed past without us knowing. My Grandad stood on the prom and watched. He had a big smile on his face. As he joyously waved at us he knew that within a couple of minutes the wake from that ship would give us the shock of our young lives.

The first thing I knew about it was when I heard the screams of others nearby as they saw what was about to happen. But by the time I turned round it was too late. I lifted myself up from my perch on the tube to see a huge wall of water heading towards me. A second later I was under a frothing wave not knowing where I was, or whether I would ever see the light of day again. The inner tube and I became tangled in a unruly mess of flailing limbs and bouncy rubber. And when I finally resurfaced I saw my Grandad convulsed in laughter.

Living by the sea brings all those happy childhood memories back. Happy in retrospect anyway!