I am no longer the proud owner of a Nikon D80 camera. It was my pride and joy for a good eleven months, but now, almost certainly, will have been sold on for a fraction of its worth by the local scrotes from Huyton, the once-nice, little village where I grew up. Along with the other items that they stole when they broke into my mum’s house this weekend. My iPod, cash, clothes, my new hockey stick. You can tell it was probably kids – what possible use might they have for a hockey stick? A trophy? A weapon? If they keep it – they’ll get caught, as this was a very unusual piece of kit.

There was a mini-outrage that such a thing could happen in Warwick Close. I don’t recall a single burglary in thirty years, and that’s saying something for an area that’s been sliding inexorably downhill for the past few years. But times change, and standards have slipped. A new, snider generation, more materialistic and submerged in a drink- and drug-fuelled world of their own, roam the streets of the estates where I grew up. The parents have no control; the offspring have no respect. Robbing from their own – this should not be tolerated. And hopefully it won’t, and those fools will be caught, by fair means or foul. Word is out.

I don’t go home very often, and this has left a very sour taste in my mouth. My mum is shaken that someone could get into her own home so effortlessly, and fears for her own and he granddaughter’s safety, now that she realises just how vulnerable she could be.

“Two Dogs” has gone to the dogs.

I don’t think I’ve prepared for something quite as thoroughly as this since I was in the Army.

Twelve hours might seem a long time in the studio to record just two tracks but I had a feeling that it might still not be enough. Every minute not spent confused and wondering “where should this wire go?” “which tie-line was the vocal in again?” would mean more time getting takes done.

It makes me smile sometimes. A year ago, I’d never even been to a live music concert before. Never. Not once. Since then I’ve been to two, and at both of them I’ve walked up at the end of the show, bold as brass, and asked the band if they’d like to come and record at the studio with me. I’m surprised I have a hand left. Bands are always hoping to be found, recorded and released. And, unfortunately, they’re almost always skint.

Still, it’s all about the music, isn’t it? I certainly am not in a position to do anything beyond get these guys recorded and good to go. I am no Tony Wilson. I have no connections to important record labels. No fingers in any pies. My horizons, for now, are modest ones, achievable ones. But one day….

I’d gone out on Saturday night with Jez to see friends that I’d kind of lost touch with for a while. It was fun but, as often happens with things like this, it carried on until rather late.

Rushing around, I’d forgotten to get in touch with the band earlier that day. I sent David a text at about 3am fully expecting him to be awake. And he was. I hoped they’d get their heads down soon – this studio session was going to be more important to them than it was to me.

I got home at 4am fully aware of my early start. Oh well – it’s not like I don’t do this every weekend anyway.

Arrived in the studio nice and early so that I could set up at a leisurely pace. Got all the equipment out, mics set up and taped down, DI boxes patched and Pro Tools all configured as I liked it. They’d be late, I was quite certain.

But not nearly two bloody hours late, for Chrissake! I was swearing and cursing. They weren’t answering their phone and hadn’t tried to get in touch with me. I called back home to Huyton to track them down but no sign. They eventually rocked up looking rather sheepish and the worse for wear with school-boy blag excuses. I wasn’t interested: I barked at them a bit and sent them off for a coffee. I realised that I ought not to put them on too much of a downer, and tried to lighten the mood up a little.

It left me with three and a bit hours to get the actual recording done. I was hoping to get some mixing finished during the time I’d booked but that went out the window: I would have to record it before I could tinker with it.

Last time we recorded, we did about seven tracks, all rather hastily. With hindsight, we should have recorded fewer tracks and done more takes – especially with the drums. Quality not quantity. This time round we limited ourselves to their two most promising tracks: “Baby Jake” and “Sex In The City”. Not having the luxury of time, we had to sacrifice the drums, making do with overdubs of the guitars and vocals.

There’s something about these two songs that I really like. PWWS have an attractive sound that’s all their own, which draws on inspirations such as the Doors and older rock styles.

I’m probably down in Liverpool next weekend for my cousin’s 21st so I’m going to try to have some finished tracks for them by then. No sleep for me, then.