He’s back – the rocker who transcends generations and genres returns with is weekly offering of musical musings!

Self Made Man has been at the forefront of the rock and metal scene since the 70s and he’s still going strong. Read on or click on the page link above for his archived work.

One man’s clutter is another’s mess. Or, to put it another way, why do wives want to chuck out anything that gathers a bit of dust on it?

There comes a time in any relationship when a crossroads is reached and both partners are heading towards it from opposite directions with the prospect of an almighty crash looming.

It arrived for us on Sunday as my nearest and dearest (I say that grudgingly!!), decided the cupboards and wardrobes in our bedroom required a major overhaul.

Little did I think a few days earlier when I splashed the cash on some new, expensive bedroom furniture that the makeover would lead to this.

But when I arrived back home that evening, I was shocked to discover that shelves, drawers and cupboards had been re-arranged to such an extent as to look unrecognisable from their previous guise,

At this point, a caveat. I am a collector (no darling, the word is NOT hoarder!) and in various parts of the house, I store football programmes, football magazines, rugby magazines, old newspapers, concert programmes and of course back issues of Classic Rock and past copies of Mojo, Uncut and even Q too.

Occasionally, I do conduct my own carefully orchestrated “re-organisation.”. In the past, this has involved reluctantly packing my LPs into cardboard boxes and banishing them to the attic, chucking out my cassettes, selling hundreds of football programmes and giving my mate Paul, who is a dentist, copies of Rugby World, Four Four Two and Classic Rock for his appallingly equipped waiting room (only joking PG!).

Otherwise, everything is lovingly stored away in a filing system only understood by me.

At least it was until Sunday night’s shocking discovery!

Fortunately, Sue (bless her) hadn’t chucked anything out. Instead, she’d “tidied things up,” a euphemism for literary carnage if ever there was one.

“But you never look at them,” she said in meek defence, the classic retort of a person who can’t understand the joy, the pride and the sheer pleasures of collecting reading material.

Thankfully, she has never suggested my collection of over 1,000 CDs which dominate our kitchen shelves, should be put away for I suspect she is quietly proud of the music library herself, even if less than 20 per cent of its content appeals to her.

And she’s quite happy that the bookcase in the lounge is dominated by my books on sport, music, history and politics (“only hardbacks, darling and no torn covers”).

As far as our bedroom barney went, I like to think I won the argument with one or two minor concessions and my horde is now happily restored to its former self with everything in its correct place.

The fact that during her spring-cleaning enterprise, Sue came upon a batch of ticket stubs from gigs she herself attended many years ago probably helped her sympathise with my own position (and incidentally, I wonder how much the stub of a U2 gig from the now-defunct Mayfair in Newcastle 22 years ago is worth today?).

Sue, of course, could have pointed out with justification that dozens of stubs took up a fraction of the space of my significantly bulkier, weightier batch of books and mags.

But she didn’t .For my other half knew she’d be skating on thin ice. For her latest hobby would leave her open to accusations of hypocrisy.

The girl’s started to collect bloody cushions!!