SLEEPLESS in Easterhouse, Jeff Zycinski surrendered happily to insomnia's embrace, a teenager on a world adventure, turning the radio dial in the dark to shortwave stations where he could "eavesdrop" on unfamiliar territories.

"There's nothing like that thrill of listening to the radio on your own in the dead of night, " he says. "I would move the dial along and there would be Radio Moscow, Voice of America, Radio Prague, whatever. It was intoxicating. A lot of my generation came to love radio that way."

That obsession of more than 30 years ago has not harmed Zycinski.

In January, he was appointed head of radio for BBC Scotland, a man who, in the bleak climate of the corporation's intended redundancies, must now yank morale up and increase the creative muscle of the station. "It's a difficult time. People are worried about jobs but without redundancies we can't achieve the efficiencies that will release money into programme-making. If we don't do this, then the money simply stands still and we just won't have the budgets for the areas I want to develop: original comedy, original drama and original journalism."

In London this week, Radio Scotland won a Sony Bronze for the memorable community-based documentary on blindness, Losing Sight, but while rejoicing in news of the prize, Zycinski is acutely aware that the station must raise its game. If Jenny Abramsky, the BBC's director of radio, feels compelled to tell Radio 4 to sharpen its act, how much more relevant is that message for Radio Scotland? Lack of funds have long bred treadmill programming but Zycinski says his job has to be about taking creative risks, "otherwise, " he says, "I could just sit here being an administrator rather that a leader."

Part of the problem, he says, is that the schedule has been composed of long programme strands which run all year, preventing opportunities to try new ideas. "I'm not in the business of just playing with the train set for the sake of it. From research we know that listeners want us to be bolder in subjects ranging from music to discussion, and with that in mind we have 41 new programmes launching from next month to September.

That's just our refreshment schedule for the summer."

Within this overhaul, Lesley Riddoch will return in what Zycinski describes as a new conversational format. "This will be Lesley in oneto-one interviews with people who share her interest in change, either socially or in themselves, and there will be 13 programmes, each running for half an hour, twice a week." Earlier this year, as Zycinski moved in to his new post, the winds of controversy still swirled around Riddoch's future with Radio Scotland.

Wishing to produce independently the daily lunch-time programme that had been her signature vehicle for several years, the broadcaster, known for her confrontational style, left the station amid much acrimony. Zycinski had launched her programme originally, taking pride in its two Sony SilverAwards in 2001 and 2002, and now he was charged with sorting out the mess, an irony not lost on critics.

"To be honest with you, it was one of the first things on my desk, but I was not actually convinced I wanted to continue with that two-hour slab of news and current affairs."

So, is this latest development a rapprochement between Riddoch and the station? In his determination to stamp his own signature on the schedule, Zycinski explained to Riddoch that he simply didn't want to "get bogged down" in a two-hour format again. "I felt it was too long, it's just the relentlessness of it, and in discussions with Lesley I said, 'Let's put this (the lunch-time show) to one side and talk about other things you can do."

The result is All Change, the piquant working title for the conversations which will run on Mondays and Fridays at 11am, beginning on June 13. "As the series will coincide with the G8 summit, there will be about four programmes concentrating on some of those attending. Since Lesley is especially interested in Africa, that dimension will be included as well." And once the 13 programmes are over, will it be all change again? Zycinski, by nature outgoing and candid, opts for a guarded reply: "Well, Lesley and her company might come back with ideas either for another series or an alternative format." In the meantime, he has other excitements in store.

Daily between 9am and 9.30, Gary Robertson will anchor Morning Extra, a phone-in and e-mail programme. "This is where we'll focus on the interactive element of listeners' comments on that day's news agenda rather than having opinions, often anonymous, drifting in and out of Good Morning Scotland."

Later in the day, Robertson will be back to host the 12-1pm slot of news and current affairs reworked along the lines of his Sunday Live programme.

"That's already proved a quick hit with audiences, which is why we want to exploit the format through the week. Gary is a very interesting presenter, a news person through and through but not a Paxman-in-your-face broadcaster."

Robertson's strength, says Zycinski, is that he is an excellent listener which allows him to explore the answers he's given, "a style of interviewing which often catches politicians unawares".

The Arts Show, hosted by Clare English and Janice Forsyth, will be re-branded as Radio Cafe, giving it a sharper, interactive edge and, transmitted after the one o' clock news for 50 minutes, it will be repeated each evening from 6.10pm. To prove his commitment to originality, Zycinski's comedy and drama teams will showcase 10 unknown writers in a week alternating between sitcom and playlets from May 30-June 4. The venue: Oran Mor in the west end of Glasgow where the lunch-time seasons of A Play, A Pie And A Pint have proved a huge success. "On this occasion, the tickets for the performances will be free, but you'll have to buy your own pint."

One of the less than glorious facts in Zycinski's curriculum vitae is his brief career as a stand-up comic.

With a trace of hysteria in his laughter, he recalls his loneliness as shortdistance joker began as a dare on the Fred MacAulay programme. "The Comedy Store were holding auditions in Glasgow and I was caught mouthing off in the production office that anybody could do that." Challenged to prove his claim, Zycinski invented a loser called Johnnie Sellotape who, strapped for material, reeled off jokes written on bits of paper stuck to his jacket.

"That way I knew I'd get through the audition but, lo and behold, I won and two weeks later there I was at the King's Theatre in front of 2000 people. Anyway, the act just died, and I remember thinking that nothing would ever frighten me again." Mind you, Zycinski still feels he was robbed: the guy on the clapometer, measuring audience reaction, was none other than MacAulay himself.

Zycinski, who has an older sister, is the seventh son of a Scottish mother and a Polish father, an exsailor who settled here after serving with the Polish Free Navy during the Second World War. "At Clydebank, there's a little memorial to the ship he was on, the Piorun, a destroyer which was actually built there and which was British originally." Growing up as the youngest in that noisy, crowded household, Zycinski says he, too, became a great listener "because I couldn't get a word in".

By the time he was a teenager, each of his brothers had left home. "At one point, five of them were in the army and when they were back on leave the house was a riot of irreverent army humour, everybody competing for the funniest line. So, I've always loved comedy and tuning in to people like Kenny Everett, Tony Hancock and the Goons."

It was at this time Zycinski became an insomniacal radio addict, listening to great classical dramatisations on the BBCWorld Service, the place where he first encountered The Hitch-hiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

"And then I would turn to Radio Prague in wonderment at the propaganda. In fact, I've still got the vinyl single of Czech folk music which I won in the Radio Prague competition. This was during the Cold War, of course, and my dad was very suspicious of me writing off to eastern bloc countries."

Not long ago, Zycinski's father asked him to clear his old bedroom from those teenage years. "There was my diary from 1978 and each page began, 'I was listening to the radio last night, therefore slept in this morning, therefore late for school, therefore got such a row." The pattern became so extreme that Zycinski eventually forged letters from his parents, explaining to teachers that he hadn't been feeling well that morning.

The inevitable happened: he was summoned before the headmaster who asked if he had a problem with school. "He said, 'Are you being bullied?' And I had to admit that actually I'd listened to the radio all night."

Today Zycinski would love to let his old teachers know that being sleepless in Easterhouse was worth it.