There were also windmills, surprisingly enough.

Well. Four days in Amsterdam. Where to begin? I guess at the beginning… Oh, if you don’t want to read the full story (about 1400 words) and want to skip to my conclusions, then follow this link.

Five of us flew into the airport at about 2pm on Friday afternoon (local time). Another guy was turning up later so we decided to go straight into the nearest bar and wait for him - starting as we intended to continue. After a couple of hours sipping lager (although I’m not much of a lager fan, but we’ll get to that later) our sixth man turned up and - after another couple of drinks - we caught a couple of taxis to the centre of Amsterdam and into our hotels. This was where the “fun” began.

Even thinking about this now I still can’t believe what happened. Our taxi parked two cars in front of our friends’ one, and right across the road from the hotel, clearly marked with the word HOTEL above the door. The guys were half way across the road and I just assumed they had spotted us and would meet us at reception. We paid our lunatic driver (his lane discipline on the roads was notable by its absence) and crossed the road for the hotel. We went upstairs to reception and the other guys weren’t there. After looking around we surmised that they had just disappeared. The staff wanted us to pay 1000 euros to secure the three rooms we booked so, not surprisingly, we wanted the other guys to turn up and share the pain. We couldn’t get a response from their mobiles and we just couldn’t work out what had gone wrong. To cut a long story short, they hadn’t seen us and didn’t realise where the hotel was. They’d decided to use their imagination, couldn’t find it and sat down at a bar to have a drink. The holiday had begun.

There are plenty canals to fall in to.

Person number seven turned up and we decided to head out onto the town to get acquainted with our surroundings. I’ll try to accurately tell what we got up to but I must admit that my memory is a bit hazy already and I may be getting a bit confused. Even if I’m stone-cold sober my memory can be patchy at best.

The main highlight of the evening was touring and experiencing the red light district. If you visit Amsterdam and don’t visit the red light district then I think you’re missing the point. For those of you who don’t know, prostitution is legal in Amsterdam and so this part of the town is - as you can imagine - a real crowd puller. I was expecting sleaze and I wasn’t disappointed. You walk around these narrow streets and most windows have women showing their - ahem - assets to the glow of red lights (see the connection?). There are sex shops, peep shows, live sex shows and plenty ways to satiate all lustful desires. People stand outside the various emporiums saying anything they can to entice you to part with your cash (I have never heard the words “sucking” and “fucking” used in so many sentences). But the strangest thing of all was seeing middle-aged people walking around the place on guided tours. I mean come on. A guided tour of the red light district? It just didn’t seem right. It felt like a Hollywood parody of itself. It was surreal. My head was spinning.

After wandering around for a bit we went to a bar. If you’ve seen the film “Coyote Ugly” you will be familiar with bars that have girls dancing on the bar (I actually saw that film on a plane and didn’t listen to the sound - I swear I got the whole plot - but I digress). Take this several steps further and you have the place we were. There were topless girls serving behind the bar, almost naked (and then naked) girls dancing on top of the bar, and hardcore porno playing on two large TV screens behind the bar. By the time we left the bar I needed to surface from the red light district and get my head together. You can only take so much porno (well, I have a limit even if you don’t).

We sat outside a coffee bar and a couple of the guys took the opportunity to buy some top quality weed. For those of you who don’t know (surely everybody knows this) cannabis is legal in Amsterdam (actually, it was mentioned in Pulp Fiction so everybody knows). I had decided before I came to not take any drugs (that’s right, I decided to be a boring loser; on hindsight I realised that I’ll not be staying “clean” next time). But everyone agreed that they had bought “good shit”. I just drank lager, then remembered that I don’t like lager and - on noticing that the lager was too lagery - I switched to “white beer” which was very nice indeed thank you.

We finished up the evening playing pool and I discovered that with everybody stoned I was suddenly an unbeatable pool player. It was great, if a little false - I never usually win at pool. It was a great night in my book and my head was still trying to take in what it had experienced, especially in the red light district.

On Saturday persons number eight and nine finally turned up and we were a full complement. During the day we wandered around various parts of the town (person number seven lived there for a year and so knew the place like the back of his hand). We would stop regularly at bars and have a drink (or a coffee) and saw some lovely places and many, many canals. There’s so much more to Amsterdam than sex, as you can see from my photos. We split up from a couple of the guys and the rest of us went to a Greek restaurant to get some food. I had lamb and it was superb. I was all ready for another action-packed night.

Saturday had been allotted to be clubbing night so it was going to be a late one. And so it proved to be. A couple of the guys had some magic mushrooms and, aside from one of them having a bit of a “funny turn” and just about falling down the stairs, it was a good laugh. A few of us went back a bit earlier (3′ish) and had a kebab on route (very nice).

Just blending in with the locals on an authentic Dutch bike.

On Sunday we hired bikes (which we intended to do on Saturday but never got around to) and went touring. It kind of reminded me of that “Ocean Colour Scene” video for “The Day We Caught The Train” (even though they were on scooters). We were using those bikes that you have to back-pedal to stop which took a bit of getting used to. Once you get out of the centre it’s a beautiful place with some lovely architecture and - as you might expect - there are some windmills too. We got caught in a few freak rain showers which was interesting but the sights easily made up for it. A visit to the Heineken Experience was next and that was a strange one. Brewing lager is a pretty dull thing when you think about it (did I mention that I don’t like lager?) and the people of Heineken have tried to jazz it up with some 21^st century technology. The interactive “bottle of beer” was fun and the coachman section was truly bizarre - no point explaining it, I’ve still not made sense of it. Still, it was better than being rained on and one of those things that you should do if you’re in the neighbourhood.

We then went for a meal at a Uruguayan steak house. And for good reason. Our tour guide (person number seven) told us that he once went to this steak house and was told by the rotund door guy that if he didn’t think it was the best steak he’d ever had that it was “on the house”. The bottom line was that he paid full price and was delighted to. We got the same patter from the guy and there was no way we could have walked past, he was just too persuasive. To explain how good a steak it was I need only say that I don’t eat beef and therefore steaks because I don’t like the meat. After eating the steak I was seriously close to ordering another one as dessert, or at least coming back for breakfast the next day. It was truly awesome and is in my top three all-time best meals list.

We spent the rest of the evening in bars around town and playing a bit more pool (my luck hadn’t worn off yet). We were all a bit knackered and eventually retired to bed aware that this was our last night. Monday was spent getting some souvenirs and then travelling home in the afternoon.

There’s plenty of hustle and bustle in Amsterdam.

So that was the trip. My thoughts now on Amsterdam are that it is a great town. The red light district was a spectacle for me. It’s not the sort of place I’d usually go but if you’re there you’ve got to go. It has to be seen to be believed. The drug dealers and scum that follow you around to try to sell you something can be quite annoying but completely ignoring them seems to work - they all want a piece of you and if you say “no thanks” then they’ll never leave you alone. Politeness doesn’t work.

But that’s just scratching the surface of what is a beautiful city. The architecture is amazing. You have very tall and thin plain buildings sitting next to the most spectacular churches. There are beautiful parks and many romantic restaurants you can take a loved one too. The staff in bars and restaurants seemed really friendly and the atmosphere is buzzing and all about people having a good time. I was one of them. I only saw a small flash of the place but I’ve put it on my list of cities I want to explore further. The next time I’ll sample the weed though, it was bad manners not to.

I was right however, I do need another holiday to recover, but it was well worth it. The guys I went with were a great bunch and made it all the more fun. So the next time it’s suggested to me I’ll put my money on the table and go.

I’m doing something quite out of character this weekend. I’m spending Friday until Monday in Amsterdam. My days of excess are behind me and I don’t really drink much at all (just the occasional pint here or there) and I don’t take any drugs either. So why the hell am I going to Amsterdam? The place of drugs, sex and alcohol?

Well, because it seemed like a fun idea. And I’m sure it will be. There are, I believe, 9 of us going. All male. All red-blooded. Varying from the light-weights like myself to hardened drinkers / drug takers. I won’t be bringing my laptop. I won’t be taking my fancy digital camera. I won’t be wearing my fancy watch. And I won’t be bringing anything that is breakable or stealable (is that a word?) or that I wouldn’t be too bothered to not come back with. Hey, you never know what’ll happen.

My first choice of a holiday right about now would be a couple of weeks in Antigua. I’d lie on a beach (there are 365 beaches on Antigua). I’d snorkel in the coral reefs (there are beautiful corals around Antigua). I’d maybe even do a bit of boating (despite the fact that I thoroughly loathe sailing there is good sailing in Antigua). I’d come back with a suntan and a bad case of jet lag (it’s sunny in Antigua and I get jet lag when going west to east). But alas no. I’m going to the home of sleaze, porn, debauchery, drug abuse and everything that is bad about humanity. Having said that, everyone I know who’s spent a weekend there has had a great time so I’m reserving judgment until I return.

Truth be told, I’m looking forward to it. It’ll be a nice chance to let my hair down (I’m speaking metaphorically of course). One of the guys is brining a digital video camera so I’ll post any interesting video or pictures that get taken when I return. Anyway, I’ll catch you in a few days…

Oh, before I go, on a completely unrelated note. If you have a particular sandwich configuration that you love and would like to share with the rest of the world, then check out The Sandwich Project. A great idea that I wish I’d thought of!

If this photo is in focus then maybe you need glasses.

I always used to pride myself on having perfect 20-20 vision. I had excellent long range sight (I could spot an ant walking across the road from 100m away - nearly) and I never needed a magnifying glass to look at something small - like I said, I had 20-20 vision. Well, those days are long gone.

About 18 months ago I started to feel really tired. I was playing a lot of football and running quite a lot so I assumed it was that. So I had a relaxing weekend and felt fine come Monday morning. But by Friday I was feeling knackered again. Once again by Monday I was fine and the following Friday I was ready to drop. The thought of my eyes being the problem didn’t enter my head, I just assumed that it was my bright monitor at work so I turned it down to be a bit darker. This didn’t work.

Eventually I relented and went to the optician to have an eye test. After the test the guy gave me a frame with the lenses that were my actual prescription and I was amazed. I looked at some writing in a book and it was perfectly in focus. My eyes didn’t have to work to zoom in on the text. But the thing was, I never realised how much work my eyes were putting in until they could see properly again. It was great, but terrible. Now I’d need to wear glasses whenever I read or used a computer. Although on the plus side they’d make me look more intelligent - which they do.

But just lately I’ve been having the same eye-strain problems. Feeling tired. Struggling to focus on distant objects when driving home. But the strange thing is that I’ve been wearing my glasses when sitting in front of a computer or reading the paper. So I went to have my eyes tested again (thinking my prescription might have changed in the last year and a half). But alas no. My eyes are just as they were. The optician suggested that I might like to spend less time in front of a computer screen and that I probably just had old-fashioned eye strain. Well, changing career is not an option. So I tried to stare at the screen less and look out the window more. It didn’t seem to work though.

But then I tried something else. I just stopped wearing my glasses altogether. And you know what? It worked. No eye strain any more and I’m not having any problems reading books either. Bizarre. It just doesn’t make any sense to me but it seems to be working. My working theory is that without the glasses I spend less time staring at things than when I’m wearing them. This strains my eyes less and Bob’s your uncle. Funny how sometimes doing the opposite to what you think will work can sometimes give you the desired effect…

Well, my long suffering girlfriend is away on a sailing holiday in Turkey. My brother is away in Inverness (the north of Scotland). It’s a warm sunny day with a light breeze to keep the temperature reasonably warm. I’m going mountain biking somewhere in the Yorkshire Dales tomorrow, but I’ve decided that today is a rest day.

Back in my hardcore training days I used to designate Sunday as my day off exercise and I’d train six days a week and just loaf around and eat on a Sunday. The reality was that Sunday would actually be my “Day Of Pain” as my body would take the time to try to heal itself from all the punishment it had taken over the previous six days - and that hurts. So it didn’t really feel like much of a rest. But nowadays I don’t do anything like that and a day of rest is really a “Day Of Rest”. And that’s what today is.

But instead of lying around on my sofa all day I decided it was about time I got some video of myself doing keepie-ups. For those of you who don’t know, football (or soccer if you think those huge guys running around in body armour are playing football) is about the world’s most popular ball game. And to improve skills most players spend a fair bit of time doing “keepie-ups” or “ball juggling” as it’s also known. This involves keeping the ball in the air using all parts of your body except your hands. Actually, hacky sack is a game based on the same principle that Americans will be familiar with…

Anyway, while I may not be much of a footballer I am pretty good at keepie-ups (if I do say so myself). So to prove it to myself I got my beloved digital camera out (which shoots video) and recorded some of my skills - so you can see and judge for yourself. I hate to sound egotistical, but looking at what I got (and I only spent a couple of minutes filming, much to the amusement of my neighbours) I think it’s pretty good for a Scottish lad (you may recall me mentioning the dire state of Scottish football the other day). Anyway, either click on the picture above or click here to download a zipped file with the film in it. You’ll need Media Player 6.4 or above to watch it, by the way.

When I was a kid I used to play in goal and I was terrible. I had no idea what I was doing and I recall our team being beaten 14-0 one time - and I still played in goal after that. Of course, if I had the confidence and skill I have today I’d have played as an attacking midfielder and scored a great many spectacular goals, but I learned too late. Although one thing hasn’t changed. I’m still completely hopeless in goal, I’ve just never gotten the hang of standing in the right place to close down the angle…

Anyway, if you’ll excuse me I’m off to watch some more TV and just generally take it easy. Enjoy the video and note that no, there isn’t somebody holding the ball on a piece of string above my head. Honest!

A year ago today I was sitting in Charles De Gaulle airport in France. I’d just spent a week climbing in the forests surrounding Fontainebleau and I was waiting with one of my friends for our flight back to England. I was tired, suntanned and looking forward to getting back and washing all my kit. Then I got a text message from my brother.

It said: “You’ll never believe what’s happened”.

I replied with: “What?”.

He said: “Terrorism in America on a massive scale”.

Me: “Yeah right”.

Him: “They flew a plane into the World Trade Centre. It’s incredible”.

Me: “That’s not funny”.

Him: “I’m not joking”.

Then our flight call came, I switched my phone off and thought nothing more of it. My brother and I joke around over text messages so I just assumed he was winding me up. But as soon as our plane landed and we were waiting to get off I saw a girl switch her phone on and get a text message. She read it and said “Oh that’s not funny”. At which point I realised that my brother wasn’t joking.

My friend went to get the car from the car park and when he picked me up he had the radio and said something like “the world’s gone mad”. And we listened in silence to people being interviewed about what was happening. The shock, fear and madness in their voices was quite terrible to hear.

When I got home 20 minutes later I put Sky News on and was presented with the picture of the Twin Towers on fire and the endless replays of the planes hitting them. It was, as you know, a terrible atrocity and many people just couldn’t believe that sort of thing could happen for real. It’s okay to see it on a film. After all, it’s just a film. It’s not real life. But if I’m honest about it I wasn’t that surprised that something on that scale could happen. If I look inside my own heart I know that deep down there is darkness. There is nothing blacker than the heart of man and any person - no matter how good natured - is capable of evil. If you don’t have darkness how do you recognise the light?

But there’s no argument. It was a terrible crime and innocent people paid with their lives. There can be no excuse to kill and in a modern civilised society it is inexcusable. So 12 months on, what’s changed? I’m not sure that a lot has on a world stage. Certainly a lot of Americans have realised that there is a world outside the USA and that their government’s foreign policy can have dire consequences when it goes wrong. A lot of people who used to feel safe in a civilised world realise that it just takes a handful of fanatics to break down those walls of protection, and they’ll never feel the same way again. But on a world stage it was small potatoes. It sounds callous, but I’m afraid it’s true.

A great many more people have died from the actions of evil men in recent years. I could mention Chechnya, Rwanda and Bosnia to name but a few. There are millions of people dying from AIDS, famine and war throughout the Third World and their suffering continues. But modern civilised people have a short attention span and once something’s been on the news for a few days they lose interest in it. For example, had President Bush decided to invade Iraq 12 months ago I’m pretty sure he’d have had great public and international support for the move in the wake of the WTC. But a year on the American public are not so keen. And I’m not keen either. We’re fickle creatures. I think that sometimes people forget that outside of CNN broadcasts, Fox News specials and BBC reports there is a real world out there with real people who are suffering terribly.

Maybe by going and looking at ground zero people can realise that things they see on TV are real. Terrible things do happen to good people. And maybe the next time people are put out of their homes by dictators, or genocide is committed on innocents and we see it on the news, then maybe we’ll take a bit more interest in their plight rather than changing the channel to something more palatable. It’s a big nasty world out there. And you can’t change it by closing your eyes and pretending it’s not there. If September 11^th 2001 has done anything, it’s opened people’s eyes.

You know, the Scottish national football team is going through a pretty bad patch. I think that’s fair to say. The new manager, Berti Vogts has been in charge for 6 games which have consisted of 5 straight defeats and one draw with the Faroe Islands. Now, I don’t wish to disrespect the players of the Faroe Islands, but they’re not exactly what I’d consider a footballing nation. They’re a part-time team and as such should have been easy pickings for any half-way decent professional squad.

Unfortunately Scotland were 2-0 down after a short time and the Faroe Islands looked by far the better team and deserved to win. That Scotland clawed back to 2-2 was testament to some of the fighting spirit of some of the team. It was a sad day for Scotland and, with the main Scottish premier league teams (Celtic and Rangers) playing mostly foreigners then the future for Scottish football is bleak to say the least. The youngsters are as good as anyone and the talent is there, it’s just that they’re not getting the chance to break through to the senior game.

Someone came to my site after searching for “crying Scottish football fan photo” on Google (follow the link, my site comes up fourth) and although they wound up at my site, there won’t be any tears from me. I just don’t care enough any more. Scotland have let me down so much over the years on the football pitch (with the exception of that game against England at Wembley in 2000 - Scotland were all over England and won 1-0) that I’ve become immune to it all. Given the choice of watching a Scotland or an England game on TV, I’d take the latter every time. At least I’d get the opportunity of seeing some decent football (unless Scotland were playing Brazil).

I will always support someone or any team that shows courage, fighting spirit and bottle. But I didn’t see any of that from the Scottish team and I haven’t for quite a while. The squad is low in confidence and it’s the managers job to instill that confidence in his team. But on the current evidence I don’t think Vogts is managing (pardon the pun) that task very well. Craig Brown (the previous manager) may not have had a squad full of David Beckhams or Ronaldos but he managed to turn what he had into a pretty strong squad that was tough to beat. So it can be done. I just think that Vogts could be doing long-term damage by not getting up to speed fast enough. My vote: get him out!

You see I’d love to see Scotland doing well again (they were never going to win the World Cup, but they at least used to be able to qualify). I used to love watching the Scotland vs. England matches - a good bit of nationalistic but friendly rivalry - and I long to see a game where Scotland actually have a chance of winning again. I guess I could be in for a long wait…

My brother looking cool as always.

After living on my own for over 3 years I’m soon to get a house guest. It’s not a lodger. I’m not moving in with my long-suffering girlfriend (I can hear her sighs of relief). I’m not opening up my house to squatters. No, it’s far more strange than that. I’ve managed to persuade my brother to quit his job in Scotland and move down to Yorkshire and stay with me until he can find himself a job down here (more specifically in Leeds).

He’s been a bit miserable doing the job he’s been doing and there isn’t a lot of work in his sector in Scotland. But there are a lot more opportunities down here so he’s finally decided to take the plunge. He’s got another couple of weeks to work before he’s served his notice so we’ve got that long to get used to the idea of living together again. And he’s worried.

When I left my parent’s home it was because it was really time to leave. I was causing quite a lot of friction and I needed my independence. I needed to strike out on my own and live on my own. When I did leave the atmosphere greatly improved (apparently) and it was more of a treat when I went to visit, so my relationship with my parents was far better. We all got on great and everything was rosy.

I’ve chilled out a lot over the years and I hope I’m not as boorish to live with as I used to be. The trouble is that my brother remembers what I used to be like and isn’t convinced that I’ve changed. He’s a smart lad and shouldn’t have any problem getting work and then moving into a place of his own so we shouldn’t have to live together for too long. But that still leaves a couple of months or so…

I think it’ll be fun actually. We’re best friends, have the same sense of humour, listen to the same music (in fact he recommends most of the albums I buy) and have significantly different interests to not be competitive any more (as brothers tend to be when they’re younger). I was always the boring, geeky one and he was always the popular rebel with a devil-may-care attitude. And we’ve always made a pretty good team.

I’m going to do my best to give him space and time to himself without nagging him about “keeping the house the way I like it” and putting his shoes and clothes in the right place. I’m also going to refrain from using the sort of lines my father used to use on us like “in my house you play by my rules”. It’s a temporary measure and as the elder brother, offering him sanctuary while he sorts himself out is the least I can do (I’m supposed to look out for him after all). Over the next couple of weeks I’m going to reorganise and tidy my house up to maximise the amount of space we’ll have. I’ll also make space for his superb stereo system as it blows mine out of the water. I’m also going to dust until I can dust no more!

At least we’ll have one consolation. We won’t be sharing the same room as we did for the first few years of our lives. All that served to do was allow us time to concoct schemes to drive our parents up the wall or bicker and fight, depending on our mood. I guess it will be a test to see how “grown up” and “adult” I’ve become. Or not as the case may be.

A typical street scene right out of a French textbook.

Well, I’m back from my holiday. It turns out - for those of you who don’t know - that Beaune is in the area of France that is the capital of French wine making - Burgundy (Bourgogne) wine to be precise. The hills around the entire area are literally covered from top to bottom in vines, and there are miles and miles and miles of wine cellars under the town of Beaune. We were staying with friends who uprooted from the UK and moved there about 4 months ago. And now I know why.

We needed a relaxing holiday to take our minds off life in the UK and work and that’s exactly what we got. We had walks in the woods, played boules in the warm sunshine, went wine tasting (and bought rather a lot of expensive but excellent Bourgogne red wine). We checked out the historical sites in Beaune, did some generic tourist things (like a trip on a road-going train that took us on a tour of the town), and we went out on a long drive to various places of interest in the surrounding countryside (including where the film Chocolat was filmed and some beautiful French castles).

Boules turns out to be a lot of fun to play.

We had a lot of fun and did more than of our fair share of speaking “Franglaise” which is using the minimum amount of French possible with mostly English - very typical of British tourists. An example is going into a shop and saying the following: “Bon jour, can I have a couple of bottles of red wine? Merci”. The point being that you’re not really speaking French at all. However, as the week progressed we spoke more and more of the native tongue. But I will do my best to improve my French for the next trip.

It goes without saying that the food we ate (from the baguettes to the Beef Bourgogne) was excellent. It amazes me that you can’t buy a baguette in the UK (or at least I never have) that tastes anything like the ones in France. I mean, it’s only a loaf of bread! Food in the UK is dog food in comparison. The weather wasn’t blue skies every day but it was always nice and warm and relaxing. There hasn’t been a summer to speak of in Yorkshire, just a couple of nice days here and there (like today as it happens). So it was great to experience some proper summer weather.

The pace of life wasn’t exactly high-octane.

As well as being a well-earned holiday it was a trip both back and forwards in time. Our friends have a couple of sons aged 3 and almost 5 who reminded me and my brother of ourselves when we were that age. When they’d misbehave we’d say things like “that’s exactly the sort of thing I used to do” and remember how we used to drive our parents crazy. My glimpse of the future was what it must be like to have kids. You really do have to put yourself in second place behind your kids if you want to stand a chance of bringing them up to be decent people. And you have no escape from them, you need to pay attention 24 hours a day. A lot of responsibility and the buck stops with you. The kids were great fun though and we had a great time with them. I will have children myself some day - if I’m lucky as nice as those two - but not for a few years though!

The weather wasn’t all smiles and sunshine.

One interesting thing to come from my holiday was a conversation we had about the reasons for going home. It turns out - much to my surprise - that the number of reasons I would give to come back to the UK was incredibly small. I never realised how thin the thread that keeps me living in Yorkshire really is. Food for thought. You’ll notice that I didn’t post anything to my site while I was away. And you know what? The thought to write anything never even crossed my mind once. And if there is an indication of what a holiday should be like, I guess that must be it.

The bottom line is that I had a superb holiday. We were away for a week and it felt like an hour. It was great to see my friends again and even better to see their life after their move to France (which has left me somewhat jealous). I’m suffering from a mild case of post-holiday-depression in that I have to return to work again, but that will pass. But the trip has left me wondering what I want to do with myself in the medium to long term. I can tell you what I’m going to do in the short term. I’m going to have a drink and then step outside into the sunshine and kick my football around some more. Oh yes.