The books
Not one book — a whole shelf of them. Four volumes, one era each, and a new story goes up every week while they’re being drawn. Kids read the adventure; grown-ups spot the parents in the background, calmly looking the wrong way.
Four volumes · 44 stories so far · new one every week
The stories split neatly by era, because the trouble got bigger as we did. Volume one is in illustration now; the rest are written and queued.
Volume one · 1993–1994 · in illustration
Opens with The Great Milk Crate Prank: 32 pages, nineteen crates, one bungee cord, and a mum at the washing line who never once looks up. Cover gallery and free sample spread inside.
Volume 2 · 1995 · next up
The village gets bigger the summer you're allowed past the postbox. Orchards, air rifles, nettles, and the first proper chase.
11 stories
Volume 3 · 1996 – 1997 · written
Anything with wheels, anything that burns. Wheelie bins, milk floats, rafts, rockets that go sideways, and a borrowed fire extinguisher.
18 stories
Volume 4 · 1998 – 1999 · written
Out the bathroom window at half eleven, back by one. The stories get taller, the grown-ups stay exactly as oblivious, and then it ends.
5 stories
New stories land every week. Another story gets written up and another spread gets drawn — subscribers see each one first, before it goes anywhere near a shop. Join the list on the home page.
44 stories so far from one village between 1993 and 1999 — written up, in the notebook, or waiting to be developed. More turn up every time somebody from Bramblewick starts a sentence with “do you remember when”. Too many for one book, so they’re grouped into volumes by era.
Back-cover blurbs & read-aloud lines →Volume 1 — 1993 – 1994
Barry moves in next door, the milk crates go up, and we learn that a bread bag holds four pints. Small bodies, small bikes, enormous ideas.
10 stories
1993 · Back garden, Bramblewick
It is 1993, and a stack of empty milk crates looks like the perfect way to build a viewing platform. The higher we build it, the better the view…
“For a moment, I could see for miles. Then... the wobbling began.”
1993 · The lane past the postbox, Bramblewick
My Raleigh bicycle was built for one. But Barry is sitting on the handlebars, which means I can't see and he can't steer…
“The postbox was getting closer. A lot closer. And a lot faster.”
1993 · The nettle ditch, Bramblewick
There is a shortcut home from the park, but it means taking a leap of faith over a deep ditch. A ditch that is completely full of stinging nettles…
“I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and jumped right into... oh no.”
1994 · The street with the new Cavalier, Bramblewick
In 1994, a plastic bread bag makes the perfect water bomb, holding almost four pints…
“I let go of the bag, and for a second... it just hung in the air.”
1994 · The treehouse, back garden, Bramblewick
The old treehouse has to come down, and a hacksaw seems like the right tool for the job…
“The branch creaked, the saw juddered, and the whole treehouse... shifted.”
1994 · The long grass behind the rec, Bramblewick
It is buried deep in the long grass behind the rec: an abandoned Honda moped. It has no brakes and a rusty chain, but it has a kickstart…
“The engine coughed once, twice, and then it roared... and we were off!”
1994 · The porters cabin, Bramblewick
We only wanted a small fire in the abandoned porters cabin. Just enough to keep warm…
“That does not... smell like burnt toast.”
1994 · The recreation ground, Bramblewick
The recreation ground is empty, the grass is wet, and we've just borrowed a car with very bald tyres. It is the perfect recipe for skids…
“Round and round we went, until... BANG.”
1994 · Everywhere in the village
One week, it is pogo sticks. The next, diabolos. The next, rollerblades…
“Right, that's it... who wants to have a go on my pogo stick?”
1993 · The tennis court, Bramblewick
The new boy, Barry, has a face like a slapped satsuma and a treasure trove of words we’ve only ever heard adults mutter…
“He took a deep breath, and said the word we were all thinking.”
Volume 2 — 1995
The village gets bigger the summer you're allowed past the postbox. Orchards, air rifles, nettles, and the first proper chase.
11 stories
1995 · Back garden greenhouse, Bramblewick
The new air rifle is supposed to be for tin cans, but there are no tin cans. There is, however, a greenhouse…
“Was that... another one?”
1995 · Mr Hall's garden, Bramblewick
It is the perfect shortcut, shaving a whole eleven seconds off the walk home from school…
“He's gaining on us... he's gaining on us!”
1995 · Vicarage Hill, Bramblewick
It is the hottest day of the year, there is not a cloud in the sky, and we have a sledge…
“I think this... might be too fast.”
1995 · The brook, Bramblewick
The rope is strong, the branch is thick, and the swing out over the brook is a thing of beauty. For one perfect moment, you are flying. Then you look down…
“Is it supposed to be... that colour?”
1995 · The orchard on the back lane, Bramblewick
An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Forty apples, stuffed into jumpers tied at the sleeves, should make us invincible…
“Don't look now... but I think he's smiling.”
1995 · A house on the Colchester road
The first rule of a 'bring your own booze' party is simple: hide the evidence…
“Then we saw it: Mum's car... right by the hedge.”
1995 · The lane home from the 2-4 shop
It's a race back from the chip shop, but not for chips. We've liberated a neighbour's bedsheets from their washing line, and now they're magnificent capes…
“My mum's going to... absolutely kill me.”
1995 · The Bramblewick road, by the hedges
Dale's just got a new BB gun and he's showing it off to everyone. He's so busy being a tough guy, he doesn't spot the police car cruising slowly down the road…
“Just act normal... he's looking right at us.”
1995 · The pavement outside Dale's house
There's a scream. A cry of agony. A boy collapses to the pavement as if struck by a cannonball. It's Dale, and he's just been shot…
“Avenge me... tell my story.”
1995 · A strawberry polytunnel off the back lane
It is a hot summer afternoon, and the farmer's polytunnel is bursting with ripe, red strawberries. We fill our pockets, then our shirts, then our faces…
“And on the count of three... we all start throwing.”
1995 · A plum tree and a garden gate
There is a house in Bramblewick with a plum tree so full, the branches are touching the pavement. We fill our pockets, then we have a brilliant idea…
“That'll be fifty pence, please... for your own plums.”
Volume 3 — 1996 – 1997
Anything with wheels, anything that burns. Wheelie bins, milk floats, rafts, rockets that go sideways, and a borrowed fire extinguisher.
18 stories
1996 · Vicarage Hill, Bramblewick
One boy, one wheelie bin, one very steep hill. It's a simple plan, perhaps the best plan we have ever had…
“And as the bin begins to wobble... he goes faster.”
1996 · The bonfire field, Bramblewick
It's the biggest rocket from the corner shop, a genuine monster of a firework that promises to light up the whole village…
“Instead of going up, the rocket goes... sideways.”
1996 · The pond past the farm, Bramblewick
It is a masterpiece of engineering: four big blue barrels, a sturdy wooden pallet, and enough rope to hold it all together…
“Four barrels, one pallet, three boys. The maths works... for about six feet.”
1996 · The bus shelter, Bramblewick
An older brother has done the unthinkable and bought us a bottle of that strong cider from the off-licence…
“It tastes like apples and bad decisions... mostly the second one.”
1996 · The milk round, Bramblewick
It is five o'clock in the morning, the world is quiet, and the milk float is just sitting there, keys in the ignition. It's a silent, electric dare…
“The thing is, nobody expects a milk float... to move that fast.”
1997 · The Co-op and the field beyond, Bramblewick
There is a beautiful, shiny shopping trolley just sitting there outside the Co-op. It would be a crime not to borrow it…
“We returned it. Eventually. From a field. With a duck in it.”
1997 · The terrace street, Bramblewick
The ultimate challenge: knock down every door on the street and leg it. Ten doors down, and we are unstoppable, a blur of motion and pounding hearts…
“This time... the owner was already waiting for us.”
1997 · My bedroom window, Bramblewick
It is the sound of the summer: a prized Oasis tape, played on a loop, just loud enough for the garden…
“For a whole summer... they thought it was the lawnmower.”
1997 · The ditch by the brook, Bramblewick
Behold, an engineering marvel: two paving slabs, one plank, and a very muddy ditch. The first test run is a soaring success, a glorious flight of BMX and bravado…
“The plank had opinions... and it shared them mid-air.”
1997 · The five-bar gate, Bramblewick
A five-bar gate is a ready-made swing, and with three kids on the end, the momentum is magnificent…
“We learned what happens... when it hits the post.”
1996 · Village hall, Bramblewick
Every school disco needs a smoke machine, but the village hall doesn't have one. What it does have is a fire extinguisher…
“The music was pumping... and then the world went white.”
1996 · A shed behind the sea wall, Brightlingsea
Ben's den is the perfect hideout: a battered shed behind the sea wall with a sofa and a kettle. It is our private kingdom. Or so we think…
“It was our den. So why did the teapot feel... warm?”
1997 · The humpback bridge, Bramblewick road
Neil's dad's car is a beauty, but can it fly? There's only one way to find out: the old humpback bridge on the Bramblewick road…
“And for a second... we were flying.”
1996 · The river, past the mill
A sunny afternoon, a gentle river, and Dale, blissfully asleep in a giant rubber ring. It's the perfect picture of peace…
“Should we... should we wake him up?”
1997 · Three back gardens on the estate
A badly aimed water balloon, an open window, and a very, very angry man. Now we're running for our lives, vaulting fences and tearing through back gardens…
“He's clearing the fences... without even touching them.”
1997 · The retail park, Colchester
At the retail park, Chubb is desperate for a wee. The queue for the McDonald's toilet is too long, so he slips out the back…
“Chubb, don't look up... but I think you're on television.”
1996 · The cracked court on the rec
For two whole summers, all we do is play basketball. The court is cracked and the hoop is too high, but we do not care…
“That was not a foul... you are just rubbish at this game.”
1997 · The long grass by the golf course fence
It’s a sweltering summer Saturday and we’re bored. We’ve got a brand-new slingshot, but nothing to ping with it…
“My hand pulled the elastic back... further... and further...”
Volume 4 — 1998 – 1999
Out the bathroom window at half eleven, back by one. The stories get taller, the grown-ups stay exactly as oblivious, and then it ends.
5 stories
1998 · My house, Bramblewick
The plan is perfect: sneak out through the tiny bathroom window for a midnight adventure. Getting out is easy…
“Shoes in hand... and a dad snoring through the whole thing.”
1998 · The shed roof, back garden, Bramblewick
The neighbour's shed roof looks like the perfect secret viewpoint. It feels solid enough under our feet, a grey, corrugated castle in the sky…
“Asbestos, it turns out... is not a trampoline.”
1998 · The chip shop, Bramblewick
It is a simple bet: two pounds to eat a battered sausage in one go. The first half vanishes down my throat like a dream…
“And then... a sudden, ominous rumble... from deep inside.”
1999 · The village, Bramblewick
It is the last summer of the nineties and we can feel it in the air. We are almost grown-ups ourselves now, but we have one last summer of mischief left in us…
“We were older, but we weren't any wiser.”
1998 · Ben's yard and the gravel track
Ben's dad is out, and he has left the keys to his Escort van. A quick spin around the yard cannot hurt, can it?…
“Wait... was that the bumper falling off?”