Over and out

Dear readers — one of the few traits I'm proud of myself for is the fact I am not really a procrastinator. If something needs doing, you can count on me to get it done — early. Writing this note to you, however, I’ve left until the very last minute. 

After nearly four years at The Post, this week has been my last. By the time you’re reading this, I’m going to be knee-deep in a coal mine in an undisclosed location, reporting on a new project for my role at a financial research firm, helping them identify fraudulent businesses. 

If you’d have asked me if I’d be doing such a job a couple of years ago, I’d have laughed in your face. When I first began at The Post back in 2023, I’d joined as a budding culture writer, hoping to do theatre reviews, interview Liverpool’s best bands and share my hot takes with the world.

Alas, the best thing about this paper is its all-revealing power. Despite my goal of being the next Lester Bangs, The Post showed me where my real passion and purpose lies: chasing after bad guys. 

Over the past few years, I’ve had no greater pleasure than following up the leads that you, our readers, have sent me. For the first time in my life, I’ve done work that I know is important — from uncovering dodgy developers defrauding investors, to holding big institutions like National Museums Liverpool and our universities to account when they make poor decisions.

Perhaps the work I’m most proud of, though, is our lengthy investigation into former Labour councillor Peter Mitchell’s charitable empire, Big Help. A series longer than the Star Wars films put together, it is this saga I now blame for my departure today. Working on it has been — despite its bleak subject matter — one of the most rewarding experiences  of my life, and as a result of my unhealthy obsession to get that story out there, I’ve become fascinated with Companies House, analysing bank statements and highlighting fraud. 

My new role will allow me to do more of exactly that — I’ll simply be casting the net much wider than Merseyside.

There is a terrible guilt bubbling up in me as I tell you all this. Largely because I know so much of what I’m capable of today is entirely thanks to the support of the team right here. Without them, I’d likely still be churning out clickbait rubbish for regional papers, banging my head against a desk and considering joining the circus. 

I’ve always been one to get unhealthily attached to things, which perhaps explains why The Post almost feels like a child to me now — making this a terrible act of abandonment. Luckily, though, I’m passing the baby to incredibly safe hands. 

Laurence and Jack will be taking the reins as of next week, and very soon there will be another fantastic writer (or two!) joining the team. As for me? I’ll still be living in Liverpool, and — because my work/life boundaries remain terrible — I’ll be writing the odd piece for The Post when I have spare time.

All that’s left now is for me to sign off. But I’ve always been terrible at letting go. I know you all see what I see in The Post – how special this paper is to so many people, and how much it's been able to achieve with such a tiny team.

So, if I may, one last request: please support it. Thanks to the recent campaign we ran, The Post is in a healthier position than ever — now approaching 2500 paying members. But I know it will continue to grow and be so much bigger. Share it with your friends, tweet our stories when we publish, and if you’re not a paid member take out a subscription when you can. It’s £7 a month — and you’ll be helping to support an organisation that I’ll forever feel thankful I was a part of.

A teary sign-off, for the last time.

Abi