IT was back in March 2001 that I first introduced you -- the readers -- to my world.

I told you about the Long Suffering Marjorie, the Folks, Golden Boy and the Mite, and Big Sis and Billy Boy.

I told you about my best pal Fred the Dread and Sunny Rochdale where we both grew up.

Now 20 months and 90 fun-filled columns later, I bring you my final instalment.

As I said last week, I am currently going through the stresses of moving house. Heaped on top of that is the stress of starting a new job and Just Jamie will be Geordie Jamie.

Come next week I will be in Newcastle blindly stumbling around the streets as I try to find my way around.

Much has changed since I wrote that first column, yet much remains the same.

I moved out of Sunny Rochdale more than a year ago although am still ensconced with the LSM. The Big Sis and Billy Boy have barely changed, nor have the Folks, but after a certain age you seem beyond change. Mother Dearest still fusses and pesters, which she always will, while Pa Diffley is just the same. The Big Sis is growing ever more motherly, while Billy Boy still works all hours to keep his wife in a lifestyle she somehow believes she is accustomed to.

Fred the Dread meanwhile is still at university fighting for the rights of trees and animals (or whatever crusade is trendy is month).

The people who have really changed are my two nephews, who have gone through something of a metamorphosis.

The Golden Boy was the First Born and as such, was afforded everybody's undivided attention, which he duly soaked up. But drunk on the adulation he turned nasty. He turned into the Devil Child, throwing things (mainly tantrums) hitting people (mainly his brother) and running riot. Whether or not this is a phase, or he is genuinely ill, will only be determined by time.

His younger brother, on the other hand, has blossomed. Still affectionately known as the Mite (because it suits him) he has stepped out from the shadow of his brother and commands attention. And not just because he isn't the first born, but because he actually deserves it; stumbling around, always smiling and generally being adorable. Whether or not this is a phase or he is genuinely simple will only be determined by time.

When I do move next week (I'm currently living in a house littered with boxes poised for loading into the rental van), it will be the first time I have lived outside of Lancashire.

Although Rochdale officially became Greater Manchester in 1974, it is still at heart a Lancashire town, and living beyond the Red Rose county will be a strange experience.

I am swapping the security of the warmth of Lanky folk for the complete unknown. I am saying goodbye to familiarity for places I have never even heard of, let alone visited. And although local twang can sometimes be difficult to decipher, the Geordie lingo will initially be lost on me.

It's with both a mixture of sadness and excitement that I go and a heavy dose of trepidation. The unknown is a scary place to venture, but before I came to work in Blackburn and I had never set foot in the town.

Now I don't want to leave.

In a few months time. I'm sure I'll be saying the same about Newcastle. We'll have to wait and see...