Since leaving school in 1990, I have dedicated almost every waking hour to the pursuit of my own personal happiness, in the form of rock'n'roll.

As a musician I haven't earned a single penny from this rather futile pastime; and like most other musicians I can also attest it has sapped all my time and resources with little reward other than that simple, initial, key motivation - fun.

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't tried for many years to forge a career as a musician during my late teens and twenties. But it eventually transpired that my life would follow various different paths through radio, TV, journalism, DJing and publishing a book - all involving music, naturally. I've never stopped playing and writing, however, and those who know me primarily as a broadcaster may be surprised.

As I privately embark on a new recording project and create some of the best music I've ever made (which will in turn probably never see the light of day), more publicly I've recently taken back up electric guitar and vocals in a group I played in 20 years ago - Khartoum Heroes. Far from being a household name, we were largely ignored in the 1990s, but our key songwriter has since gone on to scale the somewhat dizzy heights. His name is Kenny Anderson, also known as King Creosote. There has been little fanfare for the group's return, no real anticipation, and only mild interest from a few friends who knew us back in the day. Obviously this isn't a glorious reunion with an accompanying Greatest Hits compilation. It happens to be five friends getting together and making music for the sheer hell of it.

Loading the amps in and out of vans, strapping on that guitar again, trying to rediscover the finger positions for the chords, mustering up the breath to attempt a harmony vocal, forgetting the words ... and all at serious volume; it does initially make one think that rock'n'roll might indeed be a young man's game. After warming up a little and casting my mind over the Rolling Stones' legacy, I realise we're only in our forties and more than capable. Older, fatter, greyer and more forgetful than ever, we can obviously still do it, albeit with extra blood, sweat and tears.

The songs themselves conjure up all sorts of mental images for me. From the writing and rehearsing process in cottages in the East Neuk of Fife to touring dive-bars and squats across the UK, Holland and France. Every melody is a memory, every rhyming couplet a reminiscence.

By and large, we are playing songs we recorded in January 1995 and I can still recall the antics in Busby's Riverside studio and the finished album we left with. Back then we were deadly serious about our craft. We tried to establish ourselves and were eager to please, but always seemed out of time and out of step. Although lean, keen, hard-working and dedicated, the music industry didn't want to know. A rather odd, ramshackle, bohemian prospect that didn't conform to genre or type, I suppose we always tried to push beyond the norm.

Today our unholy mixture of indie, rock, bluegrass, folk, psychedelia and ska has been embraced by the audiences we've been playing to. Perhaps the songs resonate more in this day and age.

The atmosphere at live shows also doubtless benefits from our tatty, ill-fitting, charity-shop superhero outfits and irreverent onstage banter: A gaggle of portly, paunchy, rock'n'roll crusaders come to save you all from taking life, and music, too seriously.

Admittedly our gigs have so far been in front of diehard Fence Records fans in the East Neuk, including the Yellae Deuks Easter mini-festival in Anstruther. Those folks do like a spot of fancy dress and a few drinks, after all.

Mostly, though, the sense of comradery and friendship that pervades the whole endeavour is priceless. When we miss a cue, hit a bum note or completely go blank on a verse of lyrics, it's always hoots of laughter that fills the rehearsal room or venue. I suppose that in the po-faced, strutting, peripheral world of pop music we are still out of step.

I'm sure there are detractors out there, who'd want Kenny to concentrate solely on his From Scotland With Love repertoire and heartfelt back catalogue. There may be those who'd prefer me in the BBC studio behind a microphone rather than onstage in a Zorro outfit or Mexican wrestler garb. But as I have recently discovered, there is room for both, and life is all the richer for it. Much like the initial band we tried to foist upon the world, there are no rules.

This escapade was originally Kenny's idea, and more proof that the man does what he likes and does it all with a sense of humour. He has a revered career as a singer-songwriter, and I too am carving out a decent living as a presenter and journalist. The other three in the band make a respectable living from music and other jobs as well. There is absolutely no need to do this, other than the music itself and the one thing that continues to inspire us all ... fun.

Vic Galloway presents on BBC Radio Scotland at 9pm Mondays and 11pm Thursdays; tomorrow he has Errors live in session. Khartoum Heroes play Summerhall, Edinburgh, with support from C Duncan and Adam Stafford, on May 10.