Way, way back in January I reported that I bought the game Grand Theft Auto: Vice City along with a Sony Playstation 2. I mentioned that I was somewhat addicted to it and that it turned me into a game-addicted teenager all over again. Well you’ll be glad to hear that I did eventually complete the game and must say it was and is the best game I’ve ever played. I got completely sucked into its’ world. I’d be thinking about the missions during the day and playing them out during the night. The thrill of stealing cars, taking over drug barons houses, evading cops, doing robberies, racing biker gangs, assassinating people, flying helicopters, driving speed boats and running a porno film studio were dreams I’d had for years. To actually live them out (through the magic of a games console) was fantastic.

So here I am nine months later and it’s still with me. No, not the violence and need for speed. It’s the music. You see Vice City is set in the 1980′s which – in case I’ve not mentioned it before – is my absolute favourite era for music. I may have been a young lad through the decade but I loved the music then and I love it now (hey, I went to Antigua mainly because it featured in the video to Rio by Duran Duran, that’s how much I love the 80′s). The music in Vice City is literally an encyclopedia of all the best (and some of the more dodgy) music that make the 80′s such a special era for me.

When you steal a car in Vice City you can control the radio. It has several stations and while you’re being chased by the cops you can select from a wide range of musical styles. And I swear, when I walk into a shop and hear “More Than This” by Roxy Music playing over the tannoy (as happened last week), I find myself driving a stolen car up the east island weaving in and out of traffic as the sun goes down. I snap out of it and realise that I’ve just been staring into space with a crooked grin on my face. The game really has had a profound effect on me. For the record, my brother gets this too so it’s not just me!

When I’m old and lying on my death bed I’ll look back on my life and all the things I’ve done, people I’ve met and achievements I’ve had (I’m assuming that my memory still works at this point). And I know that deep down there will be a memory of playing Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. I’ll smirk and the nurses will just assume that the morphine is kicking in but it won’t be that. I’ll be re-living the time I killed Diaz in his own mansion – I shot a load of his henchmen with my machine gun before taking him out with a volley from my rocket launcher. Oh how satisfying that was, especially after I’d been killed myself the first three times I’d attempted the mission (including one where I blew myself up by firing the rocket launcher at the railing right in front of me). Oh memories. At the end of the day that’s all we have.

Thom Yorke once said that the most important thing in life for him was heart-felt communication with others and it’s something I strongly believe in too. Come 50 years from now I’ll most likely be dead. Buried six feet underground in a few planks of wood. A headstone saying something like “Here lies John Conners, may we all rest in peace as he won’t be publishing to his website any more!”. From that point of view the only things I can have achieved that will make any difference is the lives of those I affected along the way. We all tend to adopt personality traits and attitudes from those around us and pass them on to others. So in a small way the fact that you’re reading this may change you in an almost imperceptible way which you may in turn pass on to a few other people and by remote control I’ve affected them without ever meeting them or having any contact with them.

I find it important to put a bit of effort in to maintain friendships with people I care about and connect with. But it’s hard. Especially when you move away from them, or they move away from you. Sure, there are plenty of people that I wouldn’t mind never seeing again – most of the people I went to school with for example (whose names I have long since forgotten) – but there are many that I do. The trouble is time. It’s very difficult to maintain any meaningful contact with all the people I want to, and I mean more than sending a Christmas card every year. When I go back to visit my family in Scotland for a weekend there are a lot of people I’d like to visit, but with just 2 days and my father and brother to see, there just isn’t time.  Fortunately some are en-route so I can drop in on my way past but there are others who I promise myself “I’ll call them next time” but never get around to. It’s something that pains me from time to time, but I know it’s a part of life.

There is a consolation however.

Take Gary Douglas for example. He was a chef for the hotel I worked at during my student years and he’s the man responsible for the fact that I love mountain biking. He dragged me all over the country and over seemingly impossible climbs and descents and introduced me to the joys of the adrenaline rush. I’d never been interested in mountain biking until I met him and I’ve never looked back since. He moved down south to Birmingham and while we stayed in touch for a time he eventually vanished off the face of the earth, leaving no way to contact him. His positive mental attitude, love for life and desire to make the most out of it certainly rubbed off on me and if you’re a regular reader then you may see it rub off on you. I may never see him again for the rest of my life, but he changed mine for the better and though he may never realise it he’s changed the lives of countless people I’ve known and will know in the future. Not a bad legacy really.

When I hear or see the numbers 911 I don’t think of the American emergency services telephone number. And I don’t think of the terrorist attacks on American in 2001. No, instead I think of the Porsche 911. For as long as I can remember I’ve always loved them. They’re one of these things that you either look at and this “wow, I’d love one of them!” or alternatively “ooh, what an ugly car”. Curiously most males will tend to give the former response and most females the latter.

The thing with a 911 is this. It’s a supercar, it can do insane speeds, accelerate like a bat out of hell and corner like it’s on rails but you can use it as an every day car and go shopping at the supermarket quite happily. Try that in a Ferrari and you’ll be a nervous wreck by then end with a sore leg from pressing it’s heavy clutch in. I’ve always wanted a 911 and I swear that one day I’ll get one (first of all I need to build up some kind of no-claims bonus on my car insurance first). I’d have one of the older air-cooled models and as they’re water-cooled nowadays so the prices should keep dropping until I can afford one.

But I’m not alone. It turns out that the sales manager here feels exactly the same way I do about 911′s so a couple of months ago he set about actually buying one. After much searching he found an immaculate 10 year old 911 Carrera 4, albeit left-hand drive. He got it just before he went on holiday and said he’d take me out for a spin when he got back. I must point out here that despite my love for 911′s, I’d never actually been in one and would relish the experience.

Two weeks later and my chance came with a trip into town to buy some lunch. My first impressions sitting in it were that it’s not as luxurious as my current car but everything was functional and looked pretty solid – however what I was interested in was the engine. As soon as he fired that up I started grinning. The low, guttural sound it made was very appealing and as he revved it to pull away it sounded even better. The ride was pretty firm but not painfully so and once it was warmed up I got to experience what I’d always dreamed about.

Now, I’ve been in a TVR before so I know all about loud engines. But the sound an air-cooled 911 makes above 5000 rpm is absolutely awesome. It’s like you’d imagine a Ferrari to sound like when you’re a kid looking at them in a magazine. I couldn’t begin to describe what it sounds like any more than I could explain to you why I love my girlfriend. But I can describe the acceleration (although I’ll have to use a lot of superlatives). You know when a plane launches itself down the runway prior to take-off? It pins you to the seat. But nothing like a 911, which feels like somebody has taken a runaway express train and rammed it into your back. I know that fighter pilots get tunnel vision when they take off – and I know that because that’s exactly what happens when you’re in the passenger seat of a 911 overtaking a long row of traffic.

Of course we soon came up on a corner. We’re travelling at some cosmic speed at this point and it’s not that I think we’re not going to make the corner, I know we’re not going to make it. We’re going to just plough on in a straight line right off the road and into a field. My brain and body are ready for the impact but strangely we go around the corner as if it were a straight line. No fuss. Not even near to spinning. Amazing.

To say that I still want one of these cars would be to understate things somewhat. It’s breathtaking – literally. When I’d been for a spin in a TVR I swore I’d never buy one – it felt as though the grim reaper was riding in the boot ready to tap me on the shoulder and take me away, but I reckon I could handle a 911. I wouldn’t drive it flat out because I’d be dead inside of 5 minutes, but the thing with a car like that is you don’t have to drive it at 150mph. The sound of the engine alone is magnificent, even at 60mph.

Ah. Some day… Still, you couldn’t fit my mountain bike in the boot – there’s an engine in the way. Nothing’s perfect.

I don’t know about you, but I tend to wear the same shoes most of the time. I don’t have to wear a suit to work so when I get up in the morning I’ll normally reach for the same shoes day after day after day. If I go out for a drink or two, I’ll wear those same shoes. If I go to the cinema, or drive to a friend’s house to go biking, or go shopping, I’ll wear – you’ve guessed it – the same shoes. I like to call them my Default Shoes. That’s because they are my default choice for almost all occasions. Sure, when I need smart shoes I’ll wear something else, or if I go running I’ll wear running shoes, but 9 times out of 10 I’ll lace up my default shoes when I leave the house.

The problem is that no shoe lasts forever. When any pair of my default shoes start to wear out I’ll start looking for a replacement. I’ll buy the replacement and gradually wear them more and more until I just stop wearing the old ones and throw them out. Thus I have new default shoes and the circle of life continues. I have just passed through such a transition period and as a mark of respect I’d like to tell you about my old shoes.

I bought them in Las Vegas a couple of years ago. At the time my default shoes were a pair of brown Adidas Gazelles and they were past their best. I figured I’d go for a pair of black shoes next, my motivation being the shoes Richard Ashcroft wore in the video to Bittersweet Symphony (which happened to be Clarks, by the way). I had a look in a few shops until I eventually came across the Vans you see pictured above.

We’ve been all over together. I’ve taken them half way around the world. Been drunk in them. Driven thousands of miles in them. Played football in them. Had job interviews in them. They’ve been ever-present in my life but it was time to move on. They were falling apart. I was on my third pair of laces and the soles were wearing through. So it was with a heavy heart that I started to look for a replacement. And I found them, courtesy of my brother (who’s my clothing consultant – he has more style in his small finger than I’ll have in my whole lifetime).

They’re a pair of customised Adidas running shoes and they’re pictured right. I’m not going to link to where I got them from because I don’t want everybody out there wearing them – I want them for me! Oh, all right then, you can find them here. And although they look pretty loud, I love them. I’m looking forward to a long partnership with them and if I have half as much fun wearing them as I did with my Vans I’ll be doing well. It’s the dawn of a new era.