Leaving Las Worksop

As regular followers of this blogette may already know, I’ve been promoted and in actual fact I start my new job as Area Co-ordinator in Mansfield Woodhouse on Monday. Being an idiot I didn’t think to have any time off in-between my two jobs, which is exactly the sort of thing I really benefit from doing – having known me for 28 years and a week or so, it beggars belief that I didn’t clock onto the fact that some reflective, contemplative time would really do me good, rather than frenetically flinging myself from pillar to (new) post. Therefore, I am now faced with my last few hours at Worksop, a drive to Leeds, a gig (which I am looking forward to actually, for the first time in ages) a rag back down the M1, hopefully to find Libby still awake and ready to watch the finale of Doctor Who, during which I’ll probably cry. Then a Sunday, in which I will probably be getting very tetchy and anxious, frantically whacking Dylan albums onto my iPod whilst muttering, “digital Bob will get me through this… it’s going to be fine, digital Bob is there for me,” a dedicated ironing of shirts, and then my first day. Phew – if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s too much.

However, the point here is to explore my feelings about leaving Worksop after four and a half years of screaming kids, irate borrowers, and computer users who cannot appreciate that when Hotmail isn’t working, that’s absolutely bugger all I can do. Of hard work for little fiscal reward, of late nights hosting events designed to entice people into these hallowed walls of learning and Mills + Boon. Of looking out of my office at the Canch… yes! It does exist!

But most of all, I’m going to miss all the lovely people who I have worked with who have become like a second family to me. And it’s at times like this when you really appreciate who important those relationships have been in terms of the general quality of my life. Would I have been as happy earning £25,000 a year alongside people I didn’t like? Of course not, and anyone who disagrees probably has a nicer car than me… actually, strike that… they probably HAVE a car, rather than having to borrow Libby’s and making her get the bus. So though I am excited and eager to make that next leap along in my career, I leave a town that I have grown to love, and that’s sad… here’s to Worksop, and its magnificent library…

In Pisco related news, much talk has been occurring regarding the ‘next phase of Pisco’… details are too sketchy at the moment to provide you with a comprehensive breakdown, but I can reveal that we’re probably going to focus on a writing/recoding regime that’ll be very different to our methods up to this point. And I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the next bunch of stuff we throw at you will be utterly off the wall… we have ideas coming out of our ears right now, and a lot of them may well totally alter people’s perceptions as to what Pisco Sour Hour are all about. Excited?... I just wet myself.

Petros Petros Pisco

... or the Trident! Just a little joke for the RAF boys!

Another review of DaPK (as its become known by me and my cat, who often enjoys listening to a bit of Pisco when he's bored with his thrash metal and ambient mouse bashing). It's here. It's pretty good, apart from the bit which says that production guru Keano was directly responsible for the deaths of seventeen million people in Eastern Europe - a bit harsh, in my opinion.