Or, Why Do They Have To Make Things So Complicated?

As I gradually stumbled towards the inception of my personal piece of web heaven (and the end of a year's worth of good intentions and prevarication), I had barely begun to stand up and take my first faltering steps before tripping up and falling arse over tit on another, seemingly insurmountable dilemma. Now falling down is nothing unusual for me, but this was big enough to keep a marginally more decisive body teetering in a crouching position for some time. Site design - hip, cool and minimalist? Or overblown, effervescent and over-the-top? Understated elegance and muted palette? Or all singin' n' dancin' multimedia, wildly extravagent of colour and image?

The Hyacinth Bucket in me (Martha Stewart on prozac to our american friends), began stamping her Balley courts, stridently demanding an overhaul in floral plush dralon and country check needlecord. In the other corner, Jasper was sprawled across his aubergine suede chaise-longue, sipping a dry martini and waiting for me to come to my senses. I was torn between my sensible, good taste head, and my dramatic, bad taste heart. It has ever been the case; in art, so imitates life.

My head and my heart are always fighting and I have never really known a moment's peace. In life, love and relationships I am one mass of contradictions. Yet most of the time, I seem able to pick a steady enough path through them with only a slightly wavering conviction. And I'm only too aware that the "right way" is usually the "majority way" of doing things. But oh, my heart puts ideas into my head...it shouts so loud sometimes, I'm sure that others can hear it. And so I analyse to the nth degree and try to find the compromise that will allow me to sleep nights. Decisions that may come so easily to others are the result of sweat labour for me.

But I digress. There I was, struggling to find the right path between good and evil. I'd seen the streamlined sites with their hip impressive graphics and understated design. Low on picture content - high on introspective and thought provoking articles. But I'd also played "Happy Birthday" on the Incredible Farting Nun Machine, and stiffled a snort whilst I indulged in the "Watch the Queen Breakdance" Player. Without adequate knowledge of HTML, Javascript and Flash - and armed with the sneaking suspicion that mere words were not enough, I was sorely tempted to fill the perceived voids of space with prince of wales check, bouncing sheep and other recklessly downloaded and tasteless OTT gizmos.

Well, a couple of weeks later and several heavily edited working versions down the line, I think I can see an exit sign looming. No, the site isn't as impressive and streamlined as many. But neither does it have butterflies and fairies trailing my mouse movements like heat seeking missiles. I defy anyone to tell me it's pants. For all those clever dicks who don't own a site and think Java Beans make great espresso - don't mock until you've started your own. For those who have, shame on you. Don't you remember your first time? OK, so it doesn't know if its Arthur or Martha and I may be cringing in months to come, but right now, it is home to me.