When my brother came over from the States at Christmas he brought with him an 8GB iPod nano that he gave to me - he’s a kind chap. I proceeded to load a selection of my favourite music on to it - 85 albums from 57 artists from ABBA to Belle & Sebastian to Black Rebel Motorcycle Club to Dire Straits to Editors to Interpol to Kate Tunstall to Mogwai to Radiohead to The Shins to… You get the idea, a broad cross-section of music. This totalled 1049 songs and 5GB of space.

The idea then occurred to me to play the whole lot on shuffle mode and see how long it took. This isn’t the first time I’ve tried it - I gave it a shot a couple of years ago on my previous iPod and got about halfway through before stupidly hooking it up to my computer which restarted the shuffling! D’Oh! This time I wouldn’t make such a mistake.

I’d listen to the iPod in the car on the way to work, at work, on the drive home and anywhere else that I could. I started in January and, almost 2 months later, I finally got all the way through them in one go!

I’ve come to the following conclusions after completing this imposing task:

1. It’s a completely pointless waste of time and after a while it became a battle to keep going so when I’d hear a song and think “oh, I haven’t heard that album in a while, I’ll play it now” I had to resist, which is no fun.
2. Random really isn’t random. I know Apple say it’s random, but it’s really not. I found that you’d get 4 songs from the same album within 15 songs so frequently that I stopped counting!
3. It really is possible to predict the future. On several occasions I’d think “hey, it’d be cool if that song came on soon” and within the next couple of tracks it did.
4. You can’t beat hearing Deacon Blue followed by Queens of the Stone Age, then Sigur Ros, ABBA, the Doors then Muse. You’d never buy a compilation CD with that broad a range of musical styles!

What to do now? Maybe playing all the songs in alphabetical order…

I've never been into cricket. It always seemed like a tedious waste of a day. Nothing ever happened as far as I could tell, bowlers spent all the time polishing the ball and throwing it every now and then. Even the highlights were dull.

Then, while on holiday in Australia I sat down and actually watched one of the Ashes tests (the third one as it happened) and couldn't believe what I was seeing. I never appreciated the tension, the skill, the concentration required, the grit and determination you need to win. I hadn't even watched a single match before and it was clear I was completely wrong about cricket.

Unlike football, where you can make a mistake and rectify it with a lunging tackle or by scoring a goal, there's no margin for error in cricket. You can be batting for hours, receiving ball after ball, and if you lose concentration for a second you're out - and there are no second chances. My good lady and I were on the edge of our seats watching Australia demolish England and it was awesome. And like that I was hooked.

Of course, if you want to watch cricket in the UK, you need to subscribe to Sky TV and as regular readers will know, I cancelled that the other month. So it was with no regret at all actually that I phoned up to renew my subscription and within an hour I was able to watch the Simpsons and football any time I like again. Life without Sky was a brave experiment but in the end a fruitless one, especially as my love affair with cricket has just begun. And I always try to follow my heart!

While eating a meal at some friends the other night I managed to accidentally bite the inside of my mouth, which was rather painful. It always surprises me (although it shouldn't) how good human teeth are at chewing through the inside of your mouth - I guess the inside of my mouth is no different than a steak cooked rare so there's nothing stopping my teeth slicing their way through, that's what they're for.

As with all cuts to the mouth, it takes a while to heal and every time you eat an apple or biscuit, you get stabbed in the wound and feel a sharp pain. But that's nothing compared to chocolate.

I was eating a snickers bar and a piece found its way onto the wound and it was searingly painful - like acid burning! That set me thinking so I tried various different things to see what hurt the most. Irn Bru (which you'd think would do loads of damage) was fine, just a little stinging. Salt obviously hurt quite a bit, but that was a good pain since it dulled the pain afterwards. A satsuma (or was it a clementine?) stung a little but it was only short-lived. The apple, as I mentioned, hurt but that was more from being stabbed by the skin of the thing. Terrible decaf coffee from my work vending machine has no effect aside from the heat and dreadful taste. Bonjela, which has long been my treatment of choice for mouth ulcers and the like, is rather painful for a short time too, but as with salt it does it some good so it's not a bad pain.

So chocolate is still the winner on account of the pain and lack of positive benefit from the pain. Any other suggestions before it heals up?

It isn't easy being a teenager these days. For starters, your body hasn't finished developing yet. You're probably suffering from acne and no matter what products you see advertised on TV, none of them work. Your weak and puny body probably makes you feel inferior compared to Hollywood hunks like Brad Pitt (but you'd never admit it to your mates). If you're a girl you probably hate what you see in the mirror and wish you looked like the girls in glossy magazines. Oh and you think you're fat even though you are literally skin and bones (the bad news is you most likely won't ever grow out of the negative self-delusion).

Worse than the physical aspects is the fact that your brain hasn't finished developing either. This means you have no empathy - you are incapable of appreciating other people's points of view. It's not a deliberate thing, it's just the part of your brain that figures these things out doesn't work yet. This is why your parents keep telling you you're "selfish and don't think of anybody but yourself" when you don't think you are. Hint: they're right, you just don't have the capacity to see it (and some people sadly never do). You're also barely in control of your emotions, that's why you have mood swings and temper tantrums. These emotions are all new to you and you haven't had much chance to understand and come to terms with them.

You hate school, you hate the teachers and you feel like everybody is telling you what to do and what to think. And worst of all, you think you know it all and it should all be up to you. Your only respite is being out with your mates. Perhaps there's a comfy bench on the corner of your high street you like to hang around on. Maybe you'll down the odd bottle of cider or do something harder so your mates think you're tough. It's all just a laugh really and there's no harm in it, you're just letting off steam.

Except when you're hanging around with your mates, everybody you see looks at you like you're a criminal. Just because you're wearing a hooded top (so you can hide your embarrassing acne from the world) doesn't mean you're about to rob someone. But people don't give you a chance, they treat you with no respect, like you're scum, like the real trouble makers who wear hooded tops. And after a while you start to act that way, if they're going to treat you like dirt, you might as well treat them the same way.

You see, what bugs me is that I used to be a teenager. When I see a bunch of them hanging around making a bit of noise, I remember doing exactly the same thing. But apparently Britain is in danger of becoming a nation fearful of its young people. Since adults spend so little time with teenagers in the UK (as opposed to countries like Germany and Italy) they see them as a threat and are unlikely to intervene if they cross the line instead of remembering that teenagers are in fact still just children pushing their boundaries (as children do), instinctively trying to find their identity by breaking out of their parents mould. The thing is, if you just let children do what they want as they grow up, never giving them limits, then they'll really turn into everything you fear.

Sort of a vicious circle really. I guess life doesn't get any easier once you've grown out of the acne and stopped being a teenager! 

I was going to a friend's house after work yesterday to do some light fittings. This required me to bring along a selection of power tools and my toolbox in addition to the kit I normally bring into work. I never leave home without my camera in its bag and I also have a rucksack with work-related things in it (including my snacks for the day).

Since I have a pretty small car, boot space isn't something I have in abundance. My other problem is that I hate things rattling as I go around corners so I have to make sure the boot is packed neatly and with everything balanced in perfect harmony. Fortunately I've spent a long time playing Tetris and this enabled me to easily fit everything in place so snugly that nothing could move under heavy cornering or braking:

I swear I could hear the incessant music that you get from a Gameboy when you play Tetris as I was loading up. And to think, parents are always complaining about all the time kids spend playing video games! Never did me any harm. Well, except that Grand Theft Auto: Vice City, but that's another story…

I'm very particular about washing my clothes and for good reason. I have a laundry basket where all my dirty clothes go. Each week it's about full so I take the whole lot, put it in the washing machine and put it on a 40 degree wash. Once that's done, I transfer it all to the tumble dryer (unless it's a sunny day when I'll put it on the washing line). At each stage I carefully check that no socks or pants have fallen out - this is vitally important. I can't stress that enough.

When my clothes are dry I take them in their entirety back into the house and fold them up then put them away. Because I've followed this system and been careful that no clothes fell out of the basket between the house and washing machine, the washing machine and the dryer, the dryer and my house, I know that when I come to match up my pairs of socks there will be none missing. But I never get complacent because I know that the Sock Monster is waiting patiently for me to make a mistake…

Sometimes my girlfriend decides to "do me a favour". Maybe she doesn't have a full load to put in the washing machine so she'll take some of my clothes and put them in too. This is a critical mistake and I make a point of lecturing her about it whenever it happens. You see the Sock Monster pounces on confusion - as soon as you split up your laundry its razor-sharp cotton teeth will sink into one of your socks and you'll be left with odd socks. Make this mistake too often and you'll have a drawer full of them.

The only key to beating the Sock Monster is routine and attention to detail. If you stick to the program he won't even get a look in. But take your foot off the pedal and bang! You'll have given him what he wants. You think I'm crazy? That there's no such thing as the Sock Monster? Well you give me an explanation why I have a drawer full on non-matching socks. See? There isn't one!

Just because you can't see him doesn't mean he's not there… Lurking in the darkness… With the smell of socks on his breath… His eyes straining to see any strays… I just hope he doesn't pick up the scent of my keys. Actually, I can't seem to find my spare garage key… Noooooooo!

Over a year and a half ago I decided to grow my hair. I came back from a holiday in California and decided that I’d had enough of the crew cut look and I’d go for the Spanish footballer look instead. What I didn’t appreciate was how hard it was or how long it would take. This is my story…

At first it was okay. From being a centimetre long to an inch was alright, it didn’t look too bad and didn’t require any additional care. But it soon became apparent that I’d have to go to a hairdressers for the first time in five years (my girlfriend used the clippers to cut my hair up until then). When all your hair is the same length it’s not long before you start to grow a rather un-fetching mullet - and that’s not a good look. So I got it cut and was shown the wonders of hair wax and how to use it (I was so out of touch).

The other thing I had to do was start using shampoo again. With a crew cut you don’t need anything other than shower gel but as my hair started growing it soon ended up looking and feeling like straw - so shampoo and conditioner it was!

It also started to interfere with my football playing - getting in my eyes and bugging the hell out of me. So I stole one of my girlfriend’s alice bands which did the trick (although I had to put up with a lot of stick from the guys)! Oh how I dreamed of the days when I could use a length of black elastic in true South American footballer style!

As it continued to grow my hairdresser tried in vain to show me how to blow dry my hair - she failed, I just couldn’t be bothered in the mornings. I did, however, get the hang of straightening irons (my girlfriend’s) so I could relive my days when I used to have straight hair!

Anyway, I’d see people in the street or on TV and use them as my motivation to keep growing it, to not give up and get a short back and sides. Every time someone would get theirs cut (like Dave Beckham) I’d feel it was a small victory for me - they were quitting so I’d carry on! And now it’s gotten to the stage where I can look at people I wanted to emulate like Robert Pires, Michel Salgado and Roddy from Idlewild (I have a photo of the band on my fridge I used as both motivation and to scare my girlfriend) and realise that I’ve made it! It was all worth it! Oh, the sense of achievement! And what a contrast!

Okay, I’m not really that bothered, but I’m glad I stuck with it, it’s been a surprisingly hard thing to do - a short haircut is so tempting and easy to live with and in this day and age where every guy has the same short haircut it’s nice to be a bit different. Even if I have to spend a fortune on shampoo and conditioner!

I take the business of eating curries very seriously. I’ve long resisted the urge to try my local Curry house for a couple of good reasons.

The first is that I’ve been going to the Aagrah in Skipton for years - so long in fact that when I phone up for a takeaway they recognise my accent and know who I am. They’ve been good to me and the quality of food and service has always been exemplary. I must have spent a fortune in there as I often eat in too - but it’s been worth every penny.

The second reason is that the Aagrah is 10 miles away. If it were nearer I’d eat there all the time, spend a lot of money, and get very fat. I love curries you see. So if my local curry house was on a par with the Aagrah, I’d have a serious problem.

Anyway, last weekend while I was out and about my girlfriend and her friend decided to try the local to see what it was like. It turns out much to my dismay that it was very good indeed. So with a heavy heart we got some takeaway this evening and I was close to tears munching my way through the meal as I realised that it was in fact excellent. If you felt a shiver run down your spine at around 21:30 GMT this evening you’ll realise why - the world has just changed.

I now have an easy option and it’s only a 2 minute walk away. I don’t have to remember to stay sober to drive and get the takeaway, I can stagger there any time I like… My name is John Conners and I’m a curry addict.

One of the things I like about my current job is that it involves a 40 minute drive in the morning and evening (except Wednesdays). You might think this is a pain but if you’re a serial singer like I am then it’s great!

It’s a well documented fact that I like singing and especially when I’m driving. If they handed out record contracts for effort rather than talent I’m sure I’d be mid-way through a world tour. Actually, they do that already - maybe I’m just not good looking enough… But anyway, I’ve heard my singing and while I can sing some songs in key, I’m certainly not going to be putting myself forward for the next series of X Factor. As an aside, most of the people who go to these talent shows need to realise two things:

1. Enthusiasm doesn’t make up for a lack of talent.
2. Shouting isn’t the same as singing.

I think 40 minutes is about right for a drive to work. That’s a total of 80 minutes which is just a bit longer than the average length of a CD - this means I can listen to the whole CD and have time to flick through my favourites on the way home. I can then change CDs for the next day and the cycle continues. Any less and my voice doesn’t get the chance to get properly warmed up in the morning (some might argue that it never does get going). And more means I’m in danger of playing a CD to death and considering - I dread to say this - turning the radio on.

My in-car singing has some interesting side-effects though. Firstly, when I’m playing some 80s power ballad I’ll naturally want to look to the heavens, close my eyes and clench my fists to really hit the high-notes (think of the chorus to any song by Spandau Ballet). This is not a good idea when you’re either driving at high speed or nosing through traffic - I’m pretty sure there’s a section of the highway code on the subject. Secondly, there’s the possibility of an audience. When I still lived in Scotland I was once stuck in traffic in Dundee. I was on a filter lane to get onto the Tay Bridge and was signing my heart out as usual. I had this strange urge to look to my right and saw a car full of girls watching me and laughing at my performance. I just smiled at them and carried on - I believe the song was coming up to the chorus and there were some high notes! Yep, if you’re going to do something you might as well go all out for it - there’s no sense holding back.

The other problem comes when I get to the office and listen to more music through my headphones. I’ve just spent the last 40 minutes straining my vocal chords and I have to remember to not burst into song in an office full of people. You can get away with it in a car - at least the people outside can’t hear you killing Tony Hadley’s finest hour…

Well, my 3 day course on SQL Server 2005 is over and done with. I certainly learned a few things I wouldn’t have come across and have some things to think about. I still wouldn’t want me to administer a mission-critical SQL Server box but I have more of an idea of some of the cool new things you can do.

Not only did I take some knowledge away with me but I also got a Microsoft Certificate of Achievement as you can see below:

Yep, you can see the pride in my eyes! I haven’t found a place to put it yet so I’ll leave it in a drawer until I do - it may well spend the rest of its natural life in that drawer alongside those old phone chargers I never use. Oh yes, you can’t spell “John’s Adventures” without “Adventure”. I really need to get out more.