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Running On Empty

by CHRIS HOCKENHULL

A rather brief despatch from the front this month as having just returned from holiday this week and to a job that Iím trying to get my head around within the wonderful world of the Primary Care Trust and the challenges of supporting carers in this day and age of continuous cuts by Local Authorities etc. Still its work and Iíve got to be grateful for that. 

Due to all this my time to think about much else has been very limited. And to be honest Iím feeling that my Dylan interest could possibly be at an all time low. This occurred to me two weeks ago when in HMV in Liverpool I held in my hands the soundtrack to Masked and Anonymous and decided that the £20.00 would be far better invested in the new releases by Paul Brady and Hank Wangford and the Lost Cowboys and a classic release from yesteryear by Nick Jones. These have given me immense pleasure for varying reasons and I stand by my decision. 

And I just cannot be bothered getting tickets for the November shows. Instead Novemberís highlight for me will be a visit here by Show of Hands. 

Thirdly the wonderful experience of running The Life and Times of Bob Dylan course at Liverpool University, despite its unquestionable success for over six years looks to have come to an end. Political games by the hierarchy that oversees such things has deemed popular music courses as undeserving to be placed on this autumns prospectus and everything they could do to discourage  me has finally paid off. This has been coming for a while now and as my course was the only one that kept running they had to leave me until last until a George Custer scenario found me alone with the flag to be eventually picked off. 

I really could write more about this example of pettiness and Iím flattered and fed up by my ex students calling me wondering why none of my courses are on the new prospectus. 

All this adds up to a rather dispirited writer here this month and I feel like I canít be arsed anymore. I do hope normal enthusiasm returns by the next despatch. 

On a sad note I am sorry Neil has flown the nest. Right from the start I warmed to him and found him most pleasant company and a man who loved lots of other music as well as his football. I thank you for your company and writings over the years and hope that you are free to pursue the things that give you lots of pleasure in the future. Thank you again.

 
 
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