I deliberately don’t write about things of a technical nature (except maybe my technical ability on the football pitch) but I’m going to change my policy and go a little bit more technical. Don’t panic, I’m not going to write thousands of words about the latest wireless protocol or argue the Linux vs. Microsoft point. I’m just going to inject a small amount of technical content from time to time. Like now.

Ever since the initial version 1 of the product came out, I’ve been using CityDesk. It’s a content management tool written by Joel Spolsky’s company Fog Creek Software. Joel is a bit of a software management guru and, through reading his articles, I’ve massively improved as a software developer over the years. His famous “Joel Test” of rating a development team served as a wake-up call to me and my team when we read it and as a result we now run at about 9/10 (which is pretty good really). Anyway, he’s a guy who knows about software and with the release of the first version of CityDesk I just had to have a look.

I’ve been using it for about 18 months now, version 2 of the product has just been released and basically it’s a superb piece of software. I’m one of these guys who doesn’t buy software. Most of the software I’m running on my laptop as we speak has come from my MSDN subscription that I get from work (i.e. virtually every piece of Microsoft software). I’ve used software downloaded from various file-sharing systems, downloaded cracks and other shameful deeds in the past and I’m suitably ashamed, but these days I just use what I can get for free. My main exception has been anti-virus software, which I happen to think is worth the money. However, CityDesk is another exception. I bought the home edition (with a 500 page limit) which was $99, then when an offer to upgrade to the professional, unrestricted version for a further $100 came along I jumped at it.

I used to be a web designer and I’ve tried virtually everything there is out there and nothing comes close to CityDesk in terms of power, flexibility and ease of updating your site. The scripting may seem limited at first sight, but with a bit of imagination you can achieve virtually anything you want. Take my site for example. When I write a new article I simply type in the content in the window you see on your right. I then save, hit publish and magically it creates my index, archives, rss feed and adds all the rest of the pages. It also uses the templates I’ve already defined to create the final look of the site. CityDesk then publishes them to my server and it’s all done. Yet all I had to do was type the body of the entry into a window, click a button that says ‘Publish’ and relax.

Once you’ve set up your templates you need never think about them again. You just concentrate on the content, the main window is a tree view of your entire site – ideal for management. But you’re not just restricted to publishing weblogs with it. You can create HTML help with it, I’ve used it to actually write software (the code behind a DHTML dialog to be precise) and of course create any kind of web site you like. But once the site is set up you can give it to anyone, even with no understanding of web site design or just rudimentary computer skills and they can continue to update the site – it really is that easy to use.

I can’t recommend CityDesk highly enough. Once you realise what it can and can’t do (the scripting could be more powerful) and look at the competition out there you can see just what a class product it is. Okay, that’s enough praise for now. But I’ll finish by saying that if CityDesk had been around when I got paid for creating and managing web sites my job would have been a lot easier and I’d have spent a fraction of the time I did on it (although being paid by the hour, maybe it was just as well).

Way back in September 2002 I wrote about the fact that my younger brother had decided to quit his job and come and stay with me while he found himself a new one in beautiful Yorkshire. What I didn’t do was tell you what happened next.

It all started off fine. I stayed next door at my girlfriend’s house and he stayed at mine. I’d come around and watch satellite TV and we seemed to be having a good time. The trouble was that this was simply the honeymoon period. Reality eventually settled in and the strain of having two grizzlie bears living inside a 6′ by 6′ cage eventually proved too much for us. I snapped and he moved out. We started the best of friends but, by the time he moved back to Scotland it had all gone horribly wrong. I’m disappointed I let that happen but it just goes to show that no matter how good a person you think you are, you can still be a complete c*nt when you want to be. Let that be a lesson to all of you out there.

Fortunately, after a short while we buried the hatchet and get on just as well as we did before (a 300 mile gap, occasional visits and frequent phone conversations seems to be about the right balance). However, he still didn’t have a job. He struggled to get the job he was after due to intense competition and most probably more bad luck (he’s been on a run of bad luck for the past 6 years without a broken mirror in sight). Eventually the unemployment benefits agency recently forced him to take a call centre job which wasn’t exactly the marketing executive role he was looking for but – as is often the case with call centre jobs – it was a stop-gap measure until something decent came along. Of course as soon as he got that job the interviews for marketing jobs started to roll in (something like waiting for a bus).

Until finally, last night, he got offered the job he deserved. It’s a role he finds exciting in an industry he find interesting in a city he loves for a decent salary. I sincerely hope his run of misfortune is over and, as I say, it’s about bloody time too! In spite of having the obvious handicap of me as a brother, it sounds like he’s going to do all right after all.

I had a very relaxing weekend at a family holiday resort in a chalet with my girlfriend, her parents, her brother and partner and their two children aged 5 years and 11 months. I know it sounds like the exact opposite of a relaxing weekend what with potential problems like early starts courtesy of the kids, the judgment of the potential in-laws, being on my best behaviour and wearing my Uncle John hat, plus the sheer pain of being an adrenaline junkie imprisoned in a family resort for a long weekend. However, I had a great time.

We went to Center Parcs near Penrith (Oasis Whinfell Forest to be precise) and in fact I’d been there before with the whole lot of them (minus the 11 month old baby who was just a twinkle in his daddy’s eye at that point) a couple of years before (over the Easter bank holiday if memory serves me). The idea of the place is that families turn up with the kids, everybody hires bikes and rides all over the place and partake in many of the activities on offer such as tennis, badminton, climbing, archery, football, snooker and many other sports while staying in the seclusion of individual apartments situated in a pine forest (the red squirrels are complementary).

I had a fun time including playing some rather competitive badminton and table tennis (with varying degrees of success on my part). But the highlight for me was getting a Swedish massage. I’ve always been from the macho, grin-and-bear it school of thought who’d never do any of that namby-pamby facial, relaxation, aromatherapy stuff. However, I’ve softened that line recently and thanks to all the exercise I do I’m constantly suffering from aches, pains and general muscle fatigue. So before I arrived I’d decided that I was going to get an all-over massage and see what it was like.

I spent a while flicking through the book on arrival to choose a treatment and to say there was a lot of choice would be an understatement. I could have had candles burned in my ears, all kinds of ointments and cleansers used on my body, needles inserted in me, pressure points manipulated on my feet and a whole long list of other things I can’t remember off hand. So I chose a full Swedish massage as it sounded just what I needed (I was aching pretty much all over) and booked it for the Monday morning.

I was expecting it to be a painful experience for some reason (when I think of Swedish things I think of people running out of saunas and into ice-covered lakes – which sounds painful). However, instead it was great. I could feel the fatigue and aching leaving my thighs, calf muscles, shoulders, neck and back so by the time the guy was finished (not that I minded it being a bloke – I was going for the massage, not a thrill) I felt like I was floating on air. I still feel that way today. I’d forgotten what it was like to be totally relaxed without any muscle pains. When I drove home I could barely be bothered to hold the steering wheel!

While I’m not going to get a facial any time soon, I’ll definitely have a massage again – or persuade my girlfriend to go on a course! So if you’ll excuse me I’m just going to go and put my feet up and relax for a short time.

We won!

Of course I’m referring to the 6-a-side league team I’ve been playing for over the last few weeks. The team has been on a bit of a losing streak lately and really needed a win. It’s not that they’ve (or we’ve) played badly, it’s just that more often than not the other teams have edged it at the finish. With the captain home sick we had to make up the numbers again and it worked out pretty well.

We were playing the third top team in the league but as we were warming up I wasn’t intimidated. For starters none of them could match my ball juggling skills! Another star striker Kristian was drafted in and as we were knocking the ball around and having shots I felt pretty good about our chances (despite the fact that I’ve consistently felt that way since I started playing with them). Anyway, as soon as the whistle went and we kicked off we were all over them. We scored first and just weren’t giving them a chance to play at all. Our passing was crisp and safe (i.e. no Hollywood passes). I didn’t think too much about where I was playing, I just looked to get the ball and if we didn’t have the ball I’d just look for any gaps in our defence and try to fill them.

We finished the first half level at 3-3 and we shouldn’t have let them score at all, but we were going to make amends for that. But come the second half we really put the hammer down. We tackled well, passed well, had plenty of chances and really rattled the other team who resorted to shouting at each other for slacking around. We won in the end quite comfortably and it never felt throughout the whole match that we’d lose and I’m sure the rest of the team felt the same.

It was Kristian’s turn to score the hat-trick, although with his shooting precision he should really have scored a double-hat-trick (except he chose to humiliate their defenders with some silky drag-backs instead). I got a few assists (i.e. the pass that puts the guy through to score) and managed to score a totally outrageous goal that I can only describe as lucky (beating three men and then lashing in from distance into the bottom corner – nobody was more surprised than me when it went in).

Anyway, we didn’t win because of a star striker. Or solid defending. Or quality play-making from the middle of the park. Or hard tackling in the midfield. Or good closing down of their players. We won because of all of the above and more. It was a team effort. Everybody played well, we communicated well, defended as a team, attacked as a team, didn’t panic or do anything stupid. We passed around when we needed to, challenged hard when we had to and tried to score when we should have. It was great and felt a million times better than having a good game personally but losing. We just need to make sure we win next week and get a bit of a streak going.

One piece of typically amusing irony came in the first half where Chris skied the ball out of the pitch with his first shot on goal and I jokingly said “you want to keep your head down Chris” (you tend to sky the shot when you are leaning back, keeping your head down makes you lean forwards). True to form a couple of minutes later I had a similar shot on the other side and yep, you guessed it, I skied it out of the pitch and straight into the upper stratosphere. Sod’s law that.

Firstly, a bit of background. When my girlfriend and I came back from our Antigua holiday we decided that what we needed to do was plan another holiday. We decided that a week in Las Vegas in December might be a nice opportunity to see the town again (we went a couple of years ago and loved it), do some Christmas shopping and drive up to the Grand Canyon for a couple of days (we flew last time). Oh, and she was going to look out for some business class deals because we’re sick of travelling economy – she’s claustrophobic and I’m just plain tall. With that in mind, she rang me at work at the end of last week and the conversation went something like this:

Me: Hello!
Her: Hi. Can you take December off work?
Me: What?
Her: You know how I was looking out for Las Vegas flights?

Me: Yes.
Her: Well, I’ve found this really good deal flying business class to New Zealand…

Me: What?
Her: So I’ve asked my boss and he’s agreed to give me the time off!

Me: [a little exasperated] I’ll ask and check…
Her: Okay, got to go. Bye!

And that was that. So for the month of December I shall be exploring the south island of New Zealand with my good lady. It just so happens that a couple of my friends are moving back to Christchurch and another will be over there for Christmas and New Year so already we have a place to call base camp and they’ve not exactly held back suggesting places to go and visit!

Now that my work has agreed to let me go (I’ll be losing a few days holiday from next year but I’ll deal with that when the time comes) I’m combing the Lonely Planet guide for information and we’re counting the days until we can go. Oh, and I may even update my site while I’m there with photos and tales of how much fun I’m having (maybe). Anyway, if you have any suggestions of places to visit then leave them in the comments section below. In the meantime I’m off to check out business class seats – sooo much legroom (no DVTs for me). And you’d be surprised how good some of the deals around at the moment are – all thanks to the slump in international travel.

It’s been a scorcher of a weekend. The temperature got as high as 31.5C around here on Saturday (which is 88.7F) which is far hotter than I ever remember it being in Britain before. It got as high as 37.9C down south on Sunday but that doesn’t count because I live up north. Anyway, it was plenty hot enough and far too hot for activity like mountain biking, although I did manage to get in a game of 5-a-side football that had me drinking litres of water for the rest of the day – it was damn hot.

So what better way to celebrate than attending a “dessert party”? My friend Torrie is a New Zealander. He’s tall, good looking, super-fit (can beat me both up and down any hill on a mountain bike), can dance like John Travolta, is well travelled (being a Kiwi), is a really nice guy and is an excellent cook. He’s also single so all you single girls out there have no excuses for not finding Mr. Right! Anyway, he spent most of last week cooking a variety of exotic desserts in preparation for over a dozen guests coming over and eating them. All we had to do was turn up and bring some alcohol.

I’d heard mutual friends mention his famous white chocolate cheesecake recipe before and how unbelievably tasty it was. I wasn’t sure – given than I don’t actually like white chocolate – but the enthusiasm with which it was described had me intrigued. And so, at 8.27pm on Saturday the 9th of August 2003 I finally got the chance to sample what, it turns out, is the finest cheesecake on planet earth. Bar none.

I said that I don’t like white chocolate and that’s true. I ate too many white chocolate buttons one time when I was a kid and I’ve never been able to touch the stuff since. In fact I start to feel ill just thinking about it now. I do, however, like cheesecakes. So it’s fair to assume that while I like cheesecakes, my dislike of white chocolate should mean that a white chocolate cheesecake isn’t going to be one of my favourites. But it was. And it now is. It’s really difficult (nigh on impossible) to describe what something tastes like, especially a dessert. It’s like describing feelings – you can only do it by using other feelings (try it with something like the pain of stubbing your toe).

Note that the cheesecake was only one of a number of highly addictive sweets that were on display including the richest chocolate cake ever (richer than David Beckham and Michael Schumacher combined). Anyway, I spent Sunday feeling somewhat ill, not being used to eating that much sweet food in one year never mind one evening. I did manage to take a large portion of the remains of the cheesecake in question home and between bouts of feeling sick I’d stuff down another slice of it. I told you it was addictive!

Anyway, I’ve got the recipe and I’ll be trying it myself soon – although I’m going to have to wait until my blood sugar level drops back to normal. I wouldn’t want to turn myself into a diabetic on account of Torrie’s White Chocolate Cheesecake…

Okay, after the heady heights of my birthday it was back down to earth with a bang. I played pretty well (compared to my usual low standard) last week in a 6-a-side league football match where I was filling in for some injured players. You may recall my unbiased account where I compared myself to the comic strip character Roy of the Rovers [note to the reader - my tongue was firmly in my cheek]. So it was with some trepidation on my part that I turned out again last night (those injuries seem to be continuing for the team).

First of all, it was only the second-top team we were playing. Secondly, I was feeling pretty good. Relaxed, loose and ready to have a good game. Once again my job was to score goals and I was confident. In point of fact I felt pretty much the same way I felt the week before. But instead of stealing the show, I had a pretty lousy game (even by my low standards). I didn’t get much time on the ball thanks to some good marking but I had enough time to rattle off a few shots – not a single one on target. I kept getting the ball with my back to goal but just wasn’t on the same wavelength as the rest of the team and therefore my pass completion rate wasn’t too hot. We lost 3-1 and I walked off the pitch somewhat perplexed. What had gone wrong? My mind was clear and I knew what I wanted to do with the ball, but when it came to taking shots, it just didn’t happen. I wasn’t tired or tight and my feet felt pretty quick.

I get this sort of thing a lot. When I play tennis, I can play fairly well. I usually get a handful of aces each game and I can even win the odd match. But the same thing happens more often than not. I’ll get to 5-3 serving for the match and the following thought will enter my head: “you’ve got this one in the bag John, just serve the game out and you’ve won”. Just a single though. And that’s it. I’ll throw the match and perform what has often been termed the “Conners Crumble”. Every time.

The way I see it I’ve got two problems. Consistency and concentration. And no matter how much I self-analyse, no matter how positively I try to think, no matter how much I clear my mind and focus on what I’m supposed to be doing, either one or both of them will afflict me at some point. Of course, you might argue that my inconsistency is caused by my lack of concentration but I can easily be inconsistent with full and total concentration – like last night.

I am of course my own worst critic. I can see every mistake I make and know exactly what was going through my head at the time. Plus I’ve got a good memory which means I can replay those mistakes over and over again in my head. Like I’m doing now. But I don’t get negative about it, I just try to learn from it so that it won’t happen again (fat chance). Should I get a game again I’ll alter my tactics slightly (my positioning wasn’t right, with hindsight) and hope I’m firing on all cylinders. Anyway, I’ll finish with a few clichés that are going through my mind at the moment and seem rather apt:

• You’re only as good as your last game.
• You’re only in competition with yourself.
• Pressure is always self-inflicted.
• Pride comes before a fall.
• Stay out of the black and in the red, nothing in this game for two in a bed.

Before you ask, the last one is from a classic 80′s British quiz show based around the game of darts called Bullseye and has absolutely nothing to do with anything. But I’ve always liked the sound of it!

[In my best singing voice] Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday dear John. Happy birthday to me!

Honestly, I remember the day I turned 13. I thought to myself “wow, I’m a teenager, now my life begins – I’m an adult!”. Yeah right. So here I am almost exactly 29 years after my mother gave birth to her first child (that would be me) and it’s all gone by in a flash. Everybody says that and you agree but don’t really believe it until you experience it and start saying it yourself. It’s like going to a Formula 1 race. You’re told that the cars are amazingly loud and incredibly fast. You nod in agreement but don’t really think about it until one of the things rockets past you and the first thing you think is “Christ – they are SO LOUD!”.

It’s just not enough time. I don’t feel like I’m now in my 30th year. I don’t feel much different to when I was 21 and it never occurs to me in daily life that I’m no longer in the 18-25 demographic any longer (and haven’t been for quite some time). So what difference does it make that I’m 29 now? To me, none at all. If Steve Redgrave can win an Olympic gold medal rowing at the age of 38 then I’ve got nothing to worry about – until I hit 40. At that point I’ll know for sure that my best days are behind me. I’ll be on the slippery slope down towards retirement.

But hey, that doesn’t bother me now. That’s over 10 years away. That’s ages in the future! It’s not like it’ll come around as fast as the last ten… Surely… Oh, and if you think I’m being negative (I’m not really), you should read my entry for my birthday last year…

Well, it’s taken a while but I’ve finally got my commenting and mailing list functionality back up and running again. It’s fortunate that I have a backup strategy for all the data on my site and while I lost a few of the latest posts, I do still have the vast majority of them. What this episode of site down-time has taught me is to perform a backup as a daily task just in case this sort of thing happens again.

I’m pretty sure that if my comments had been working when I posted my Roy Of The Rovers article a few days ago I’d have got a torrent of abuse. Well, now’s your chance!

This made me laugh. The Brits have always loved the spirit of adventure and for many years swimming across the English channel was the same sort of challenge as climbing Mount Everest. So along comes the extreme sports loving, BASE jumping Austrian who jumps out of a plane at 30,000 feet with a pair of wings strapped to his back and flies across the channel. Total nutter.

If that wasn’t crazy enough part of his training program involved being strapped on the top of a Porsche driven at speed so he could get used to going at over 120mph! Now that’s the kind of job I’d never get bored of!