Webmaster Jimmy Kavanagh
Welcome to my personal home page, It's a small area where you can read about me. No photographs please as I am not photogenic.
I was born on St. Patrick’s Day 1966 in Birmingham, England. Not wishing to break with tradition I arrived naked and a little cranky. Mars was rising, Jupiter was on the cusp and the wheels on my fathers car were in complete alignment. Conditions like this would not occur for another thousand years. Good omens I think you will agree. As it was St. Patrick's day my parents (both Irish) named me James. After six months my parents returned home to Ireland. When I discovered they had left I hired a nanny who moonlighted as a private detective and tracked them down.
I was raised in Wicklow, a small coastal town 32 miles south of Dublin. School was very easy. I waltzed through it with no problems. Alas there's not much call for people who can waltz through schools in the business world. Or the dance world for that matter. Had I sat down like the other students and listened to the teachers I would now have an education.
I spent a lot of early summers on my grandmothers' farm just outside the town. I use the term "summer" in it's loosest sense as any of you who have visited Ireland will understand. On the farm I learnt how to talk to animals and capture and skin wild potatoes. Of course the conversations with animals never led to any great insights, but I found that the skinned potatoes made a plain meal when allowed to sit undisturbed in boiling water for around 15 minutes.
As the final months of school raced headlong into the crash barrier of life I was beginning to panic a little. How could I earn enough money to see me through the trauma of adulthood. Fortunately a friend lent me his home computer (a Sinclair ZX-81). I discovered that apart from the amazing graphics, 5 pixels by 3 pixels resolution I seem to remember, I had a talent for programming it. The rest as they say is blistery.
After learning what I could from the ZX I begged, pleaded, sobbed and cried like a girl until my father agreed to buy me my own computer – a commodore VIC 20. Compared to the ZX this was a real mans computer so I could finally stop crying like a girl. It had a proper keyboard, colour display, sound and a better screen resolution of 32 x 3 pixels or there abouts. Happy days!
Unfortunately I did not posses the first item on the list, Perseverance, so I didn’t bother with the rest. I did however meet someone who would have a profound impact on me for the next three to four years of my life.
I was a bit annoyed but let the stranger have his head and listened. Somehow, and to this day I am still not sure how, computers came into the conversation. We discovered to our mutual delight we both had VIC 20’s. He ran, and I do mean ran, around the corner to his house
and retrieved a pile of magazines and
games. He returned with the bountiful harvest about ten minutes later and gave them to me.