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Cool/Funny/Lovely Stories About George
15 January 2013
12.59am
bewareofchairs
London Palladium
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One of the reasons George is my favorite Beatle is because there's so many cool stories about him, and yet, being the mysterious/private guy he was, most people don't know about them. The ones I've read really give a sense of what a wonderful, generous, fun and interesting guy he was, so I thought it might be nice to compile them all into one thread. :)

I have to go study though, so for now these are two nice fan ones I saw on the Huffington Post and tumblr:

orsojo: "I have a friend that worked at the Maharishi Ayurveda Health Center in Lancaster, MA who met George when he went there in the 90s for panchakarma treatments. He said that you wouldn't know that George was a celebrity by the way he acted and interacted with the staff. My friend was a amateur guitar player and when Harrison learned about this young guy's love of playing, he asked if after dinner one night he would like to get together to play. They did and just sat together enjoying the sounds they made. My friend said that looking back on it, it was surreal in a way to be sitting and playing guitar with "one of the Beatles," but that it seemed more like just meeting a nice guy who shared your love of playing the guitar." - http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jeanne-ball/george-harrison-meditation_b_991876.html

niceboulder: "So my friend Nicole told me a story of how she used to work in the pub where George Harrison would bike to regularly and how one christmas instead of tipping all of the waitresses there like usual he bought every single one of them a small diamond necklace. They were all so stunned and thankful and oh my god so happy and he hugged them all and he said his wife helped him pick them out. And oh my god how can you not love this man." - http://niceboulder.tumblr.com/post/30784642387/so-my-friend-nicole-told-me-a-story-of-how-she

15 January 2013
1.12am
Inner Light
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Very nice stories. This is a big reason he is my favorite. He was so generous and caring. Thanks for sharing.

The further one travels, the less one knows
15 January 2013
2.31am
bewareofchairs
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My pleasure!

In 1974, When the Dark Horse Tour came to California, George visited the Free Clinic in San Francisco. He spoke with some fans and he donated money to the clinic. Here is a short blurb about that visit.

Before his 1974 tour, he had decided that several concerts would be benefits, and he had heard about the plight of the Haight-Ashbury Free Clinic. The Free Clinic opened in 1967, the year of Harrison's first visit, and had survived the district's post-Summer-of-Love speed/rip-off/deterioration phase. The clinic had grown but had lost federal revenue-sharing money marked for 1975. It was set to shut down part of its medical sector, which, the previous year, spent $67,500 to treat 10,000 patients. Harrison donated net profits from his first Bay Area concert to the clinic -- a total of $66,000.

The day after that first concert, Harrison, future wife Olivia Arias, who was at that time working for his record label, Dark Horse, and several others visited the clinic. This time, he was no pied piper leading an adoring mass. Patients at the clinic recognized him. But, as founder Dr. David E. Smith said, "Nobody gaped; nobody mobbed him or kissed his ass." Harrison toured the clinic and chatted with several staff members.

"He said he hoped to start a ripple with other musicians doing the same kind of things," writer Amie Hill, a clinic volunteer, reported. "The doctors gave him a plaque, and someone told me he said, 'Don't thank me. It's not me, it's something else over us that acts through people like me. I'm just an instrument.' "

And as he spoke, he broke into one of his songs, "The Lord Loves the One."

http://meetthebeatlesforreal.b…..linic.html

15 January 2013
3.13am
bewareofchairs
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“The visit came about thanks to meeting George's friend and master luthier, Danny Ferrington, in January 1999 at that year’s NAMM music trade show in Los Angeles. That was the show where my wife Liz and I and my brother-in-law, Dale Webb, first introduced Dale’s Fluke ukulele to the marketplace. “At our booth, besides the Fluke, we were presenting several of our Jumpin’ Jim’s songbooks and my book, The Ukulele: A Visual History. Danny Ferrington happened to pass by our booth and saw the uke history book. He commented that George Harrison was his friend and that George had given copies of the uke history book to his pals as a gift that past Christmas. He also went on to say that George was in Los Angeles at the moment and would love to see our vintage uke collection. Naturally both Liz and I, who lived in Los Angeles, were thrilled with the idea that a Beatle might want to visit our home. However, because we couldn’t imagine such a thing actually happening, we didn’t tell anyone and pretty much put it out of our heads. 

“A couple of weeks later, on February 2, we were still doubtful even as Danny kept calling with hourly updates on the various stops he and George were making as they supposedly were making their way to our home. And then sometime in the early afternoon Danny and George Harrison walked into our living room. My first memory was that George grabbed a banjo uke resting on a stand and began to strum and sing the Formby song (and Herman Hermits hit) ‘Leaning On A Lamppost.’ And for the next three hours we talked ukuleles and sang songs. George sang and strummed several original songs that eventually ended up on his last CD, “Brainwashed”. “As it happened, at the time of George’s visit, Liz and I were putting the finishing touches on our Jumpin’ Jim’s ‘60s Uke-In songbook which was to include a number of Beatles songs arranged for ukulele. We were very excited about this book because it was going to be the first uke songbook to feature songs from the 1960s and we were especially pleased at how good these classic tunes sounded on the ukulele. As an example I pointed out the arrangement for ‘All My Loving.’ And then a moment later Liz, Danny Ferrington and I were all singing and strumming ‘All My Loving’ with George Harrison. Liz and I stole a look at each other while this was occurring as if to say ‘treasure this moment– this is about as good as it gets.’ 

“There are two other moments that are worth sharing. The first came about towards the end of the visit when I asked George if he would be willing to write a short note on why he liked the ukulele. He sat at our dining table and composed the charming paragraph that became the ‘appreciation’ in the ‘60s Uke Insongbook. “The other great moment was an unexpected flourish as George and Danny were leaving. At the end of our goodbyes George ran over to the piano and grandly played the famous intro to his song, ‘Something.’ And with that he said ‘See you later’ and dashed off. After Danny and George were gone Liz and I were left stunned and amazed. The year before we had made the somewhat crazy decision to leave good jobs (I worked for Billboard Magazineand Liz was a highly regarded graphic designer in the movie biz) to go full time into the ukulele business. At that moment we became convinced that George’s visit was a blessing that we were on the right path. We still do.” 

As Harrison’s health deteriorated in 2001, his friends used the uke to lift his spirits. Longtime friend and musical collaborator Jeff Lynne said that, toward the very end of Harrison’s life, “I'd sit beside him and play some ukulele very quietly. He'd wake and smile. . . . I half expected him to tell me I was doing it wrong. George was passionate about the ukulele. He played it brilliantly, studied it, and collected hundreds of vintage instruments. There's not much you can do with a ukulele that doesn't sound happy. I think that's why he liked it.”

http://www.tricornpublications…..ssue18.pdf

15 January 2013
8.29am
bewareofchairs
London Palladium
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November 30, 2001

Writing almost exclusively these past weeks, and months (and, it seems, years), on the topic of international terrorism, and the threat posed by recent unwelcome events to the "broadband education" of our sons and daughters, it comes as an odd sort of relief to be able to say some things about the unwelcome death of a friend, and the passing of a cultural icon. The experience, however sad and sombre, is uplifting by comparison.

The person I am talking about is George Harrison, the ex-Beatle. I met George (and his lovely-wife-to-be Olivia) on an airplane headed from the islands of the Seychelles to Bombay, India. It was a day in December, 1976. George was an ex-Beatle; I was the owner of the successful student travel company, ALSG, and a dabbler in the electronic recording arts as the proprietor of the Massachusetts countryside recording studio, Long View Farm.

We had a lot to talk about in the airplane, and in the Bombay hotel Taj Mahal where, by further coincidence, we were destined to stay for a week or so. Only, it wasn't about the Beatles that we talked, or about the student travel business in the United States, or about the Massachusetts recording studio (which would soon, with a word or two of encouragement from George, be called upon to host the second-most important rock 'n' roll band in the world, the Rolling Stones.) It was about living gods that we talked.

That's what he was doing in India. That's why I was there. We were hunting for living gods —divinely empowered human creatures who could do things like levitating matchboxes from across a room, or like living in a cave for two decades, like Rip Van Winkle, on nothing but the smell of incense and lofty thoughts.

It turns out that we both had the same paperback book in our flight bags, Paramahansa Yogananda's "Autobiography of a Yogi." We had each read it several times. He autographed my copy of the book; I underlined the paragraphs I liked best in his. The book was to be our Michelin Guide, here in the land of virtual saints and sidewalk transcendence.

Neither George Harrison nor I would think any less of the paperback book because we could find no living gods on the sidewalks of Bombay. With great humor and optimism, George assured this author that all good things take a while sometimes to materialize, and that we should satisfy ourselves in the meanwhile with the beauty ingredient in the here-and-now.

Bombay, for example. George taught me how to purchase silver necklaces in tiny stores in alleyways, and how to haggle for sandlewood carvings which told the story of Indian religious figures, including elephants.

George's friends, as another example. He took me an hour outside of town in a lurching, speeding taxicab to the place where Ravi Shankar lived. There was a reason for the trip. Ravi Shankar's niece was to be married that day, in the presence of a demi-god of the West, who was of course George himself. I was happy to be there, eating with the fingers of my right hand while sitting cross-legged on a polished floor, and listening to the music of sitars.

George and I left Bombay in 1976 without having located any living gods. George was not giving up, however. "You've got to come up to Benares, Gil," he said. The every-twenty-year spiritual festival of the Kumbla Melawas just about to begin, and people said that on occasions such as these there were living gods to be seen on every street corner, and in every country cave, each with wisdom to dispense.

I didn't go. I had my business career to attend to, back in the United States. There was a recording studio to watch over, and American students to send to Europe and to points beyond. I tried to explain this to George months later, on the telephone.

And now it's 25 years later still. The recording studio became well known, and filled itself with rock stars. I am still officiating over the travel of American students to Europe and to points beyond, with great passion and dedication. But George Harrison is no longer teasing me about the rarity of living gods, having taken on some of these trappings himself a night or two ago in Los Angeles.

Beats obsessing about the terrorists, thinking these thoughts.

Dr. Gilbert Scott Markle 
Executive Director

http://www.studiowner.com/essa…..113001.htm

This link gives a more detailed version of the story: http://www.studiowner.com/essays/essay.asp?books=0&pagnum=28

This was one of my favorites that I came across. I just love the images it conjures up in my head. I hope it's ok that I keep posting these. If it's considered spam I'll stop.

15 January 2013
4.46pm
parlance
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Thanks for sharing these stories. They're lovely to read.

parlance

Beware of sadness. It can hit you. It can hurt you. Make you sore and what is more, that is not what you are here for. - George

Check out my fan video for Paul's song "Appreciate" at YouTube and Vimeo.

16 January 2013
1.38am
bewareofchairs
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This next one is an article from the Harrison Alliance. It's very long, but I think it's one of the best stories about a fan meeting George. It's amazing how different things were back then.
 
Part 1
 
Welcome to Crackerbox Palace 
Editor’s note:  Several months ago, it was discovered that Angela Rennie had leukemia.  One of her life long dreams has been to meet George.  Angela’s mother and some of her friends wrote letters to George’s brother Harry, who lives at Friar Park, and to George’s office in London to see if George would consent to even the briefest of visits with Angela.  George was moved; he sent word back that he would see her during August, that his office would notify her when to come down to London for a meeting.  Everything was arranged, and Angela and her friend Moira were off to London in mid-august. This article is a compilation of three sources:  a letter tape by Angela, the actual taped conversation during her visit with George and “One Sweet Dream Came True Today” which appeared in a recent issue of “With a Little Help from my friends.”  We would like to thank Angela and Pat Simmons for their help with putting this article together.
 
On Thursday the 11th of August (1977), my friend Moira and myself set out for England (they live in Scotland).  We were going to meet George at his office in London, as it had been arranged; well, so they said.  While in London, we would stay with a friend named Leslie.
 
The dates I’d been given by George’s office were the 13th thru the 16th of august; I would meet him one of those days.  For two weeks I waited on them saying to come to the office.  They kept saying that George wasn’t going to be in his office that day. After a week Moira had to go home as she has children and it was time for them to go back to school.  I should have been at school too.  Moira went home; that upset me a lot.  Instead of staying in the house, I went to work with Leslie.  In the afternoon, Leslie decided to phone up his office and find out what was going on, as I was missing school and my parents didn’t like me being away so long.  The lady at the office then said that it would be Monday, and they’d phone us after 2:00 to tell us to come.  So somehow I had to survive the weekend.  I just hoped they’d keep this date, ‘cause for a week they’d been saying dates and not keeping them.
 
All through the weekend I didn’t sleep.  I really was a bag of nerves.  Monday came and I put on clean clothes and got my stuff together, and Leslie and I set off for her office.  I had to somehow pass a few hours away and wait on a phone call. At last 2:00 came and then 3:00, then half past 3.  Leslie decided she’d phone them and tell them she’d leave now as she didn’t want to be caught in the rush hour traffic in the middle of London.  When she phoned the woman said, “Well, George still isn’t in yet,” but that she’d phone his home and see if he was still going to come in that day. (On one of the phone calls, the woman said George had to come into the office to do some filming.  I don’t know what of though).  Ten minutes later she phoned back and said that Peter (George’s brother) said that George wasn’t coming in – maybe the next day.
 
I was really upset, as you can well imagine.  I mean, I’d really been ill with nerves, physically sick as they’d let me down so often; to get a time and everything and then be told he wasn’t coming into his office after all.  I mean, I came into London having been told I’d meet him by the 16th at the latest. Anyhow, the next day came and still nothing; we phoned again.  Leslie told them I wasn’t well and I couldn’t go on indefinitely like this.  The woman was really rude.  She said George did want to meet me, that she’d told him about my being sick and everything (but when we met George he said he hadn’t been told I was sick) – but she was really rude to Leslie – I don’t know what she said exactly but I know it wasn’t very nice.
 
On Wednesday my mum phoned me.  I was at the home of a friend of Leslie’s.  Leslie’s friend told my mum how upset I was at being let down.  My parents wanted me home on Friday so if George didn’t come in on Thursday, what would I do?  My mum heard how rude the woman at his office had been, so she decided to phone up George’s Dad and see if he could possibly do anything.  It’s not as if I were barging into George’s office, I’d been given dates and we’d come hundreds of miles on that basis, but they were bashing me about like a bag of washing.  Mum said she’d phone George’s Dad and phone me back.  About a half an hour later she phoned back, saying how nice Mr. Harrison was, but that he didn’t know anything about it.  He said the last time he’d seen George was about 8 months ago and the last time he’d spoken to him on the phone was about 3 months ago.  But he said he’d phone up George’s office in the morning and find out what they’re playing at.
16 January 2013
1.43am
bewareofchairs
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Part 2
 
The next day came which was Thursday, 25th of August.  I’d nearly given up hope of seeing him as I had to go home the next day.  At about 10:30am, Leslie phoned and told me to get ready as we were going out to Henley!  She said she’d phoned the office and the woman again was rude, and said, “Look, why don’t you drive out to Henley, drive right up his driveway and go and knock on his door; but don’t tell him I told you to do it.”  So Leslie said it was our only chance seeing how I was to go home the next day.
 
So I dove round the house looking for my stuff and waited for Leslie to come and collect me.  I was worried in case George would be angry about us going out to his house, as he wouldn’t know we were coming. At last Leslie arrived and we bundled me into the car and Leslie’s two dogs, and then set off for Henley.  On the way there Leslie stopped at a bakery and bought some hot bread and cakes and stuff ‘cause she was hungry.  I couldn’t eat a thing.  I mean, I hadn’t eaten all week and I certainly couldn’t eat now!
 
Leslie reckoned it would take us an hour and a half or two hours to get to Henley. God!  I thought we’d never get there! At last we saw signs saying “Henley.”  We followed them along a motorway and then along these lovely little country roads.  At last we hit the town; we drove straight up the market place, which was pretty busy. At the top of the market place is his house! We were both praying the gates were open as we didn’t fancy having to get out and open them.
 
They were open, so we let out sighs of relief, but I was still shaking.  We drove past Harry’s home (which is at the gate), and then we reached another home which was set back from the driveway, and beside it was a sign saying, “No unauthorized vehicles or persons past this point.”   That really got me – I just wanted to turn around and get out.  Then we were at his house.  It’s really beautiful. Up against a tree on the left-hand side of his driveway outside his home, he had a wooden sign which read, “Welcome to Crackerbox Palace.”  I’d sent him a sign last Christmas which said the same thing.
 
We parked at the front door, his front door, lovely front door, a big wooden thing. Leslie said to me to stay in the car just in case whoever answered the door was nasty.  So she went to the door.  I sat there looking at his beautiful home.  I looked at Leslie and she signaled that someone was coming ‘cause she heard footsteps.  From where I was sitting I could see the door had been opened, but I couldn’t see who had opened it.  Of course it never once entered my little head that he’d answer it!  Anyway, Leslie was all sensible so I never took it to be anyone special.  Then this sexy body came out the door and pointed round the back of the house.  I couldn’t see his face – I knew it was him but I kept saying, “Naw, it can’t be!”  His hair was all curled; he had the mustache and was wearing faded jeans and baseball shoes, a blue grey jersey and a white shirt with red leafy flowers on it.  He took a look at the car and smiled at me. I was in shock, I’ll tell ya, I thought I was gonna have kittens!
 
Leslie came back to the car and told me we were to go to the back of the house into his kitchen.  George had gone back into the house.  I couldn’t get out of the car.  Leslie told me I should try unfastening the seat belt.  Somehow, I managed to get out; Leslie started to help me walk; I was surprised I could walk, my legs felt like jelly and Iw as all shaking.  I told Leslie, “I can walk myself.”  As we came to the corner of the house, Olivia came round and said hello and apologized for keeping me waiting for so long. She was pretty small, about my size, and I’m 5’2”! She had on a brown dress and brown boots; it was nice.
 
She and Leslie started talking and I walked slowly behind them, looking at the house. Then I looked ahead of me and Olivia and Leslie were standing on some little wooden steps and looking at me.  I walked up to them and looked inside and there he was all sexy and very, very gorgeous.  His pics don’t’ do him any justice.  His long curly hair was soft and shiny.  In his left hand he held a cigarette.  I finally walked up the three steps and into the kitchen, looking at him all the while.  When I got in he picked up my hand and shook it. He said, “Hello, how are you?”  I didn’t answer him.  I just stared at him looking at him straight into his eyes.  He shook Leslie’s hand and I said something – it would have been better if I hadn’t bothered, but I did.  I said, “You’re awful small.” He’s not very tall.  I knew he’d be skinny, but he was so small, I came up to about his shoulders.  He was smiling.  He was so beautiful!
 
He shook hands with Leslie and she said, “You might not remember me” (as she had met him before).  Leslie said she was sorry we barged in, coz he had guests in, an American woman and her two children.  Anyway, Leslie told him how I hadn’t eaten in four days and he asked, “Why  not?”  I told him I had been sick and couldn’t eat. George asked, “Would you like something to eat now?” looking straight at me while he said it.  I said, “No thank you.”  He said his office hadn’t told him I was bringing food up, even though they’d told us they had told him.  Then he asked me if I’d like to sit down.  I said, “Yes please.”  So we sat down at the table with George facing me.  He kept looking straight at me and grinning.
16 January 2013
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bewareofchairs
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Part 3
 
I didn’t really say much; Leslie did almost all the talking.  I just stared at him, he’d stare at me and then I’d realize I was staring at him and he’d just give me a smile.
 
He asked me what part of Scotland I came from and I told him Edinburgh.  He said the woman guest had originally been from Scotland, from Helensburg and her name was Helen.  He kept calling her “Helen Queen of Scots.”  He said he’d just found out it was a Scottish king who became the first joint king of Scotland and England.  I told him it was James the 6th of Scotland and James the 1st of England (How I remember that at that moment I’ll never know).  I told him I was born the day that “Please Please Me” got to No 1 and he was telling everyone in the house that!  He asked our ages and I said 14.  He said, “14!” and asked me what did I think of punk rock bands.  He said I should like the punk rock bands and what did I think of them.  I told him I thought they were rubbish.
 
His kitchen is lovely.  He has a sort of service thing in the middle and behind that there’s the sink and other units on the back wall.  And he’s got a fridge which was covered with all sorts of stickers.  On the door leading out of the kitchen and into the rest of the house, he’s got empty wine bottles on the top of the door; one or two had sort of straw-like flowers on them.  Down from the table we were sitting at, he has a chest of drawers sort of thing, and has assorted things on top of that, and then he has a chair, then the big fireplace.  His clock is lovely; it has a dog at either side of it (not real ones!)  He had two color photos up, one of a little girl and the other of a little boy – I don’t know who they were.  And on the wall he had a big color poster of Ravi Shankar.  Someone has scribbled something on the wall above the fireplace – it read “Arrias ’74,” it was in red crayon I think.  I know it was red anyway.  Also someone had made a sign which read “I fancy a cup of tea” and they’d stuck that up on the wall at the back too.  He had tiles all along the back wall, not all the way up, and I never saw one that was the same – they were all different colors and designs.  I know it sounds crazy but it really is a beautiful kitchen.  He has red or brown tiles on the floor and the tablecloth was a light blue velvet.  He kept picking at it when he was talking. Also he had a cassette recorder on the floor beside the service counter thing in the middle of the floor.
 
Leslie reminded me that I had brought a tape recorder and I asked George if he minded if we taped the conversation and he said, “No.  Go ahead.  I don’t mind.”
 
When I put the tape on George leaned over and said, “So this is Radio Edinburg…Ed-in-berg.”  I asked “Why didn’t you come to Edinburg on your promotional thing?  Nobody ever comes.”  Leslie butted in with, “Don’t complain, you had Elton John and Wings.” George explained, “Well, you know, you can’t go everywhere.  If I do a tour I’ll go to Edinburgh.”  I jumped out of my seat and said, “Will you?  Go to Usher Hall!”  “The National Hall?”  he asked.  “Usher Hall.”  “Usher Hall,” he repeated after me.  I explained, “It’s bigger, you can camp out there for tickets.”
“I’m not sure if we played there in the ‘60’s.  You won’t remember because you were only….born….”
“No, you played the Regal, across the road.  It’s ABC now, and the back is still there where the window got smashed in.”
“Yeah?  You would’ve been only two or three then.”
“I was one.”
“One… he said thoughtfully.  Then he added, ‘Did you go to the concert?”  Everyone laughed.
 
Leslie mentioned that she had left America in the mid-60’s because of the war in Vietnam; George said, “Oh!  You’re from America!”  “I’m from New York,” explained Leslie, “I’ve been living here now for 10 years, doing my thing made it my life.”  “So what are you doing, do you have…”   She interrupted him saying, “I’m a journalist, but I breed dogs for pocket money.  I do a house journal.”
“Oh, for the dogs?”  “That’s another story,” said Leslie.  She explained what type of dogs she worked with and said that she had them outside in her car.  She even told him how she dresses her dogs and drag and different costumes for parties.
 
Olivia asked if she would like some tea.  Leslie said yes and asked if I also wanted a cup.  Then George asked me if I wanted tea again looked straight into my eyes.  I said “Yes please” and Olivia went to make it over at the other end of the kitchen.
 
Leslie asked him if he had an album due out and he said, “I’m sort of writing at the moment, trying to write the songs for the next album which…I’ve been pretty lazy this year, I mean after…” Leslie interjected, “After you’re 33&1/3 plus…terrible isn’t it, getting old!”  “Well” he began, “I don’t mind getting old, it’s just that 17, what was it?  17 years, 18 years, obviously the thrill is not as much as it was when I was 17.  I mean then it was guitars all the time, that’s all you wanted to do.  I mean, the novelty wears off after 17, 18 years but this year I’ve just been going to the motor races instead, y’know, just for a break (he laughs).  “I’ll make an album probably before the end of the year and probably have it out have it out next January . Also I don’t know, 1977 didn’t feel like a good year for doing much.  I’m hoping ’78 will be okay.  Well, ’78, it adds up to the number 7.  I like 7, it’s good.”
 
Leslie mentioned she had no desire to go back to the States.  George said she didn’t sound American and asked her what part of New York she was from.  “Were you from the city or New York State?”  “I lived in the middle of Manhattan.”  “Oh God!” he exclaimed, “that’s okay for a couple of days maybe…”   “17 years was enough.” “Yeh, y’know, like some people love it,” he said, “like y’know Paul Simon, who lives there – Rhymin’ Simon- John Lennon likes it, but it’s not for me.  It just drives me crazy. I can’t even stand going into London these days.  The crowds, the tourists – it’s ridiculous.”

 

16 January 2013
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bewareofchairs
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Part 4
 
Leslie told him my sister was a mad Elvis fan and said that Elvis’ death was so tragic. George began to talk about Elvis, “Oh wow, yeah, oh it was sad.  All these magazines, these are the trade magazines, but the saddest thing, but it’s only to be expected, is when you think of all the record companies with their presses and they’re pressing out millions of records, backlogs, and everybody’s and the people too are crazy.  It said in one paper as soon as they heard he died they all ran into the record stores and tried to buy records.”  I told him my sister had bought a record player which cost what it would have cost to see Elvis in America with his fan club; the reason she didn’t was because my mum and dad were on holiday and by the time she’d found out that my parents would be back in time for her to go, it was too late.  I told him her friends saw him and he asked, “In America?” I said, “Yeah Cincinnati and some other place.  Her friend got a scarf off Elvis.”  “Off Elvis?” he asked.  “Yeah he went to see him in Cincinnati 4 or 5 weeks ago.”  Olivia asked if my sister ever saw Elvis do a show.  I told her no and that she was upset because she never got to see him.
 
“I saw him once when he was, um, well, he wasn’t…” said George, “I would’ve liked to have seen him in like 1958.”  Leslie burst out, “I would’ve liked to have seen you in 1958 or 1959!”  “Oh that was a bit early, that was in those days in Germany or something, we were.”  “What do you think of that Hamburg album?” she asked.  “Well, it’s just crummy quality.  The thing is, even if we would have owned the tapes, you see, we didn’t want the tapes because it was like this microphone here and somebody on the other side of the hall over there singing; you’re going to pick up a little bit in the distance but it’s not exactly a record.”  “But it’s history.”  “Yeah, it is but those people, I just don’t like the way they know there’s a market for anything.”  “You’re not getting much from it, I should think.”  Leslie said flatly.  “Well, I’m not getting anything out of that.”  “But it’s history.”  “Yeah,” he said with an exasperated sigh.  I told him I thought it was good even if it was crummy quality. 
 
I took out some of the things I’d brought to show him, some pictures of him from his U.S. tour and his promo tour.  I explained to him that I had friends in America who sent me these things.  He commented on some of the people who played with him on tour, saying what great musicians they were.  When he was commenting about pictures, he would hum a bit and he even started to whistle.  He laughed about his psychedelic house (where he used to live in Esher).  He saw a picture of himself at the house and he and Olivia started to laugh at his “psychedelic” clothes.  Olivia said, “Looks like even yours arms are painted!”
 
He got excited when he spied a photo of his painted Mini saying, “Oh see, there’s that Mini!  You know I was saying I had to push that Mini out of the garage last night because it was – wow!  That’s…”  “That’s an incredible paint job,” said Leslie.  “That Mini when it was in good condition was just so fantastic!  You see, the car, I gave it away and I finally got it back but it had been all smashed up and it’s a wreck.”  Leslie gave him one photo of the car out of her book and promised to send him a print of another shot that she had the neg to.
 
George came across a photo in one of the book.  “There’s Livy. Wonder where that was?”  I told him it was taken in Acapulco. “Where did you get this picture?”  he said, pointing his finger at it.  I told him a friend had sent me it and he exclaimed, “Incredible how they get hold of all this.”  “What were you watching?”  “We were sitting outside around a swimming pool, it was a private party.  Warner Brother Records had this big party and we were all drinking tequila from these little cups, see, that’s like a little cup around your neck and there was a Mexican band playing.”
 
While George and I were looking at my photos I asked him if he was going to tour Britain.  “I may do next year, I may do a tour of everywhere.”  “Who’s that?”  “Yoko.” “Oh, at the Lyceum.  That was just madness.”  Olivia asked, “Did you play there?” “Yeh, I recruited over half the band.  We were doing a session with Delaney and Bonnie Band with Billy Preston, making an album, and we just all went down there and then there was Keith Moon and everybody.  It was crazy.
 
He got very amused at the pictures of himself.  He was always laughing at them.

 

16 January 2013
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bewareofchairs
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Part 5
 
I remembered I’d brought a small present for him – one was a drawing I had done of Krishna.  George brought out the picture slowly.  He studied it and kept saying, “That’s really good.” I was embarrassed as I thought it wasn’t good enough but my mum said I should give him it, but he really seemed to like it.  I just hope he really did.  The other was a toy spider which was my favorite spider his name was George (of course). “Here’s my favorite spider for you.”  George began to laugh.  Olivia shrieked, “Oh God!” and George laughed.  “You’re like my mum,” I said.  She only said, “Uh!”  “This is a nice one, isn’t it.  Look at his eyes!” laughed George.  “That’s a good one to put in someone’s bedroom,” said Olivia.  I said that I’d put it in my mum’s bed once and she got the fright of her life.  George put the spider on top of the clock on the mantel piece.  I was so pleased that he liked the things I brought him.  I know they don’t sound like much but the drawing took me hours to do and the spider I’ve had for ages and meant a lot to me. George is the only person I’d give them away to.
 
I brought the stuff out I wanted signed; I had the cover to 33&1/3, the same photo of him, and two or three Extra Texture postcards I was getting signed for friends.  When George saw my album cover he said “I’ll tell you what…” then called to Olivia.  “Liv, go into the office and bring me a couple of copies of uh..”  “The album?” she asked. “Yeah, because she’s got the English one but the American one is so much better.” Then he turned and said to me, “I’ll give you one of the American ones, it’s really good…”
 
He signed a few things.  I then gave him a letter that a friend and her husband has asked me to give to George as it meant such a lot to them.  On the envelope was the name of a guru (Sai Baba) and when George saw it he said, “I had that book when you walked in.”  He turned to Olivia, “Livy, did you just move that Sai Baba book?” “Yeah, it’s right here.” She said, getting it for him.  He showed me what Sai Baba was like in his last life and a picture of him in this life.  When George was looking for that pic I noticed some writing on one of the pages.  It said something like “to my son George” or something like that; I think Sai Baba had signed it and had written a little message for George.  George seemed to be happier when he was talking about religion and I’m interested in it so I didn’t mind.
 
He signed all my things (humming a bit), asking me if he should sign the front or the back of the postcards.  Just then Olivia said, “oh no!” and we looked outside.  It was pouring with rain.  George said, “It’s incredible, it just comes from nowhere…”  Leslie interjected, “And we had nothing last year.”  “Yeah, and this year it just won’t stop.” He really looked gorgeous when he said that.
 
George began to hum as he picked up the American 33&1/3 lp, “See, this is the American one – it’s much nicer and inside – let’s just open it up (he split the shrink wrap with his thumbnail).  It’s also a better pressing.  I mean, that won’t make any difference unless you’ve got a really good record player.  It’s better, a bit better quality, coz the factory in England…”  When he finally got the wrapping off he crumpled it up and was going to put it in the wastepaper bucket, then without thinking I dove and grabbed the paper from his hand.  “Oh okay,” he laughed.  “No comment, “ said Leslie. “Look, see, this is all silver.”  George began.  “Is that Dufax, the process?”  asked Leslie.  “Don’t know, it’s expensive and that’s why they’re reducing the cost in Britain and this is like they have to print this picture in one place, then they have to send all the album sleeves to another factory where they do this (the silver lettering) and it’s hot-stamped but this is nicer, you see, it’s all silver, but it’s all silver inside too.  So there, you can have one each.”  He also gave me a little book about all the religions.  It had sayings from Jesus, Buddha, Krishna and one or two others.
 
Leslie asked him way he had left at the interval when he went to see the play, “John, Paul, George, Ringo … and Bert” in London.  When he answered her I nearly died coz he screwed his face all up.  “The thing I didn’t like about it, they, the audiences, especially since a lot of them were tourists and that, were watching and they think that that’s what it was you know.  It’s such fiction!  The writers heard a few rumors about what it was and they read a few books and stories about it and somebody’s written a script, and it’s a totally fictitious story.  Everybody watching it was looking at it as if it was the real thing, as if it was a historical documentation.”  “Yes sir” said Leslie.  “Like Robert Stigwood’s tentatively making a lot of money out of the Beatles too.”  “Which you won’t get anything out of…” said Leslie sarcastically. “That’s not the point really it’s just that some people are more determined than others of ways of..”
 
Leslie asked if we could leave our bags inside while we went outside to take pictures. George said, “Yeah sure.”  So we went out into the garden.  I told him beforehand he had a nice garden.  He was quite proud of it and told us about how it was so overgrown when he bought the house and the house itself was one step away from being bulldozed down.  George went out first and followed behind him.  We saw the gremlins and said how nice they were. Leslie started arranging her camera.  George asked if I was staying with Leslie and I said yes.  I remembered I’d brought a camera.  It was really simple so I couldn’t break it.  I went into the house to get it.  Leslie told me later that when I was in the house she told George that she saw herself in me.  George replied, ‘We’ve each got a part of each other.”
 
16 January 2013
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bewareofchairs
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Part 6 (last part)

I came out again and started to try and take a pic.  I took one while shaking!  But when it came to advance the film in the camera, the camera wouldn’t work, it jammed. George told me to come to him.  He fixed it for me and I went to take another.  This time George told me my finger was over the lens.  I didn’t’ even see it, who was paying attention, all I saw was hm.  I managed to take a second pictures, then my camera jammed again, so I let it go at that.   Olivia came outside and took two pictures of George, Leslie and I.  Leslie wanted one with Olivia in it, so I started to walk away, but George said, “No, you’re in it too!” and pulled me back hard.  Then he put his left arm around Olivia and his right arm around me and pulled me right into him when he did that.  
 
Olivia went inside; Leslie was setting up her camera again.  I said to George, “I can’t get over how small you are! I thought you’d be really tall.” He said that it was those Beatle boots with the high Cuban heels that did it.  He said he was only 5 foot 9 or 10; he bend down to my size, then stood up again and said, “I’m not that much taller than you.”  I said, “I know!”  I really loved it when he did that, he was so cute!
 
We got one more pic, and went back into the house to collect our things.  We said goodbye to Olivia, then George walked us round to the front to the car.  When we got to the car Leslie wanted one more picture.  While we were waiting for her to get her camera ready, I said “Please don’t get back together.”  He said, “Pardon?” and bent over and put his ear next to me.  I repeated what I’d said and he said, “I can’t see it ever happening, we all live in different places, we’re all on different paths.”
 
Leslie took her pic, and then let her dogs out of the car.  Leslie shaves the dogs’ bottoms, and George noticed this commented, “you shouldn’t shave their bums, it’s cruel.”  One of the dogs went up to a tree in the yard and did something on it.  George said, “Well I don’t think it will kill it.”
I asked George what kind of car he had and he said a Porsche, a German car.  I told him he had a beautiful house and he said, “It’s Crackerbox Palace!”  I asked how old it was.  He told me it was about 150 years old, but that I took 25 years to build it.
 
I also asked him to tour again.  He said he’d probably go someplace like Japan first, then Britain.  The problem was, he said, getting a band together and a place to rehearse.  I told him he could rehearse at my house!  He laughed and said he meant a country ‘cause if he did Britain first he’d get slagged for not warming up the band.  I said he was always getting slagged by the press and that was all they were good for.  He said, “Yeah.”
 
George then said he really had to go, and as we’d spend over an hour and half with him I knew how lucky I had been.  So we said goodbye.  I was trying not to cry.  I said, “Don’t forget to tour and do Edinburgh!”  He said he wouldn’t forget and walked away. I stood and watched him and when he got to the corner of the house he waved and smiled.
 
-
 
 
EDIT: Oh and, I should note that the girl ended up living and visited George again to let him know. She's still alive to this day.
16 January 2013
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parlance
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Freaky… I think this woman who was recently on Antiques Roadshow is the Leslie of your last few posts:

http://meetthebeatlesforreal.b…..tinue.html

http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/roadsh…..05A05.html

http://meetthebeatlesforreal.b…..irl%20Tape

parlance

Beware of sadness. It can hit you. It can hurt you. Make you sore and what is more, that is not what you are here for. - George

Check out my fan video for Paul's song "Appreciate" at YouTube and Vimeo.

18 January 2013
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Linde
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Aw man I just wanted to post that link from meetthebeatlesforreal.com

I've been browsing that website for a week or so now. I really enjoy reading some of the stories. There's stories about all 4 of them.

20 January 2013
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parlance
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PBS has the story about Leslie from the Antiques Roadshow up here now. She says she's going to write a book about her experiences meeting George.

They've also posted an audio recording she made of Paul.

parlance

Beware of sadness. It can hit you. It can hurt you. Make you sore and what is more, that is not what you are here for. - George

Check out my fan video for Paul's song "Appreciate" at YouTube and Vimeo.

21 January 2013
8.55am
Gerell
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The video said that if you want to be in a rock and roll band you might as well be in The Beatles lol.

"And in the End the Love you take is equal to the Love you make"
"When I was a robber *Piano Chord* in Boston Place"
"Let's hope this turns out pretty darn good huh"
"Pete may be the best, but Ringo is the star"
Paul:"Don't be nervous John"
John:"I 'm not"
21 January 2013
7.03pm
Zig
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This is one of my favorite stories from the documentary Living In The Material World.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v…..ceNhdq57eU

To the fountain of perpetual mirth, Let it roll for all its worth.

Every Little Thing you buy from Amazon or iTunes will help the Beatles Bible if you use these links: Amazon | iTunes

21 January 2013
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bewareofchairs
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parlance said
Freaky… I think this woman who was recently on Antiques Roadshow is the Leslie of your last few posts:

http://meetthebeatlesforreal.b…..tinue.html

http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/roadsh…..05A05.html

http://meetthebeatlesforreal.b…..irl%20Tape

parlance

Whoa, how weird. Thanks for the links.

From Eric Idle's Greedy Bastard Diary. There's a lot of great George stories in there:

Day Forty. Shuffle off to Buffalo.
Saturday, November 8, 2003 – Day off in Buffalo
Further down the mall in St. Louis there is a Beatle souvenir shop, though sadly they have no Rutles stuff. I made some Rutle merchandise for Can't Buy Me Lunch, but I gave it all to George who adored all Rutle stuff. I think the most successful present I ever gave him was a Rutle guitar, which Danny Ferrington made for me. It featured the Rutles looking out of the windows of a car, and George was thrilled with it. George once gave me the most spectacular present. It was Christmas 1975 and my marriage was breaking up and I was very sad and it was snowing and my little two year old son and I were alone on Christmas Eve. There was a ring at the door and we stood on the stoop bewildered as two men unloaded a big bulky heavy object from the back of a large truck and carried it inside. Carey and I looked at each other puzzled. What on earth was it? It was wrapped in corrugated brown paper and tied up with string, so we set about ripping the covering off. To our amazement and utter delight it was a juke box filled with rock and roll classics! There was a note on it which said "Every Home Should Have One, Happy Christmas, love George and Liv." Well we plugged that thing in and it glowed and throbbed and pulsated with sound and we danced madly to it all that Christmas. What a great gift.

23 January 2013
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bewareofchairs
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I had always wanted to meet George Harrison. Throughout my entire adult life, if you asked me who was the one person I would most want to meet it would have to be George Harrison. So, I was thrilled when Laurence was asked to do a session for George on the soundtrack to the movie “Shanghai Surprise.” I was also nine months pregnant with my second child. Undaunted, I was clearly not going to miss my big opportunity to go to the recording studio even if I was as big as a Volkswagon.

The night before the session I was going through my ever narrowing options of what I could comfortably wear and look reasonably ok in, when the unthinkable happened. I went into labor. I couldn’t believe it. I was not due for another 3 days, and if I had to give birth, then I wouldn’t get to go to the studio. What a dilemma. I ignored the labor for a while, hoping it was a false alarm. When I had a contraction and Laurence asked if I was ok, I tried pretending that it was not that bad, but babies have a way of setting their own timetables and finally I had to admit that I was going into hard labor and we needed to get to the hospital. Laurence grabbed all the things you are supposed to take, (Including his guitar) and we headed off to give birth. It was a fairly easy labor this time (Not like the dramatic epic of Nico’s birth) and Laurence played guitar for me through most of the process. This was wonderful, up to a point, but when the nurses all gathered in our room to hear him play I had to get their attention back to the fact that I was the one in labor.

I was thrilled, of course when I delivered Ilsey, a beautiful, healthy 7 pound girl. She was born at 7 in the morning and after we settled down Laurence needed to leave to get to the session by the late morning. I was sorry he had to leave so soon, and I knew he was going to work with George, so I was pretty jealous, too. Oh well.

I called my parents and some other people to let them know the good news, a few hours went by as I nursed the baby and napped a bit and then the telephone rang. I said “Hello,” and there was an unmistakable Liverpudlian accent on the other end of the line. It was George Harrison. He congratulated me on the birth of our daughter and invited me to come down to the studio as soon as I was up for it, baby and all.

So when Ilsey was all of 2 days old, the very first outing she ever had was to go to a recording studio to meet George Harrison. He was so incredibly warm. He went to his car and brought out two presents. A teddy bear for Ilsey and a pull toy for Nico. He held the baby and actually danced around the studio with her in his arms. He kissed her head and said a blessing. I spent a while listening to the music and talking to George. I was surprised at how forthcoming and talkative he was, for the one with the reputation as “The quiet one.”

We did have the opportunity to see him again after that, but I will always cherish that particular memory.

http://www.hopejuber.com/george.html

25 January 2013
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bewareofchairs
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These are from Michael Palin's diary during the Monty Python days. They give a great look at George's friendship with the Pythons as well some mentions of the other Beatles. I especially loved these since Michael Palin is my favorite Python. It's really endearing the way he writes about George:

Saturday November 4th 1972

With Terry and Andre, walked across Regent Street and into Savile Row, where the Apple Studios are situated in a well-preserved row of Georgian town houses.  They seem to be the only place that has the technology to cut our multiple B side.  Down the stairs to the basement.  Into a foyer with heavy carpets, two soft sofas and felt covered walls, all in a rather dark, restful plum colour.  A big glass-topped coffee table, designed for only the best coffee table books, was littered with copies of the Daily Mirror.  A flamboyant stainless steel strip was sunk into one wall.  Immediate impression on entering the cutting room of being in a Harley Street dentist’s consulting room.  At one point, about 7.00, I had just come back into the studios after having a drink when a slight, thin figure walked towards me.  The face was familiar, but, before I could register anything, a look of recognition crossed George Harrison’s face, and he shook my hand, and went into a paean of praise for Monty Python – with the same exaggerated enthusiasm that I would have lavished on the Beatles had I met them five years ago.  He said he couldn't wait to see Python on 35mm, big screen.

Thursday January 9th 1975

Another sign of the times.  ‘The Beatles’ company, Beatles Ltd, officially and finally ceased to exist today.  The company, which held the Beatles group as such together in various legal obligations, has become increasingly obstructive to their various separate careers.  The group haven’t played together since 1969.  We began when they finished.

Friday January 10th 1975

By one of those strange coincidences, today was the day that Python and the Beatles came together.  In the last two months we’ve heard that George H has been using ‘Lumberjack Song’ from the first BBC LP as a curtain raiser to his US stage tour.  So it seemed almost predictable that the two groups would be sooner or later involved in some joint venture.  Terry J, Graham and myself on behalf of Python and Neil Aspinall and Derek Taylor on behalf of the Beatles, found ourselves at lunchtime today in a hastily converted office at the Apple Corp’s temporary headquarters in smart St. James’s, to watch the Magical Mystery Tour – the Beatles’ TV film made in 1967.  At that time I remember the film being slated by the critics and it vanished, swamped by an angry public who doubtless felt the Beatles had let them down by not subscribing to the image of success and glamour which the public had created around them.  When it was suggested at a meeting late last year that we should try and put out the Magical Mystery Tour as a supporting film to the Holy Grail, there was unanimous agreement among the Python group.  After several months of checking and cross-checking we finally heard last week that the four Beatles had been consulted and were happy to let the film go out.  So today we saw it for the first time since 1967.  Unfortunately it was not an unjustly underrated work.  There are some poor and rather messy sequences, it’s very obvious when the group is miming to playback and there’s a cutesie Top Of The Pops-type look at Paul during ‘Fool On The Hill’, which is very tacky and dated.  However, it is extraordinary still, it is far too impressionistic and odd to be just outdated and many sequences are very successful.  It’s also quite long – nearly an hour, but all in all we were pleased.  It will have great curiousity value and should be complementary to the Python film, because much of it looks like familiar Python territory.  Ringo was suddenly there, talking with Graham and Terry.  He was dressed like a British Rail porter, with a black serge waistcoat and black trousers.  I noticed his hair was streaked silvery at the sides.  He looked rather ashen-faced – the look of a man who needs a holiday.  I was given George Harrison’s numberby Aspinall, who said he thought George would appreciate a call – he’s apparently the all-time Python fan, and it was at his mansion near Henley that they had been last night looking at the last Python TV series.  Later in the evening, fortified (why did I feel I needed fortifying?) with a couple of brandies, I phoned George Hargreaves (as Derek Taylor and Aspinall referred to him).  An American girl answered – or rather a girl with an American accent.  She sounded bright, but when I said I was from Monty P she positively bubbled over and went off to get GH.  George and I chatted for about 20 minutes or so.  He adores the shows so much – “The only sane thing on television” – he wants to be involved in some kind of way with us in the States.  He said he had so many ideas to talk about, but I was a little wary – especially when he told me he envisaged a Harrison-Python road show, with us doing really extraordinary things throughout the show, with us swinging out over the audience on wires, etc.  Hold it George, I thought, this is hardly the way to get John Cleese back into showbusiness!  But he’s clearly an idealist who has warm feelings towards us and it’s very flattering to hear one of one’s four great heroes of the ’60s say he’d ‘just like to meet and drink a glass of beer with you, and tell you how much I love you.’

Friday October 3rd 1975

From the Captain’s Cabin to the Work House – the studio in Old Kent Road where we are to re-record ‘Lumberjack Song’. (George loved the song so much he offered to produce it as a Christmas single. It reached No. 51, but no higher as the Pythons refused to sing it on Top of the Pops.) The Fred Tomlinsons have been rehearsing for an hour by the time I arrive (just after 8.00), and up in the control room are Eric and George Harrison. George grasps me in a welcoming hug and Eric pours me some Soave Bolla. Downstairs, noisy rumblings of Fred Toms. I get down there to find them in the usual hearty good spirits – no Soave Bolla in evidence down there – just huge cans of beer and cider! Instead of dividing the song and introduction up into different takes, we just launch in, and soon we’ve done three versions straight through and my voice is getting hoarse from all the added shouting at the beginning. But one of the takes seems to please everybody. George, Olivia, Kumar (George’s assistant), Eric and I leave in George’s BMW automatic for a meal. We drive, if that’s the word for George’s dodgem-like opportunism, to the Pontevecchio in Brompton Road. George’s a vegetarian, but he managed to demolish some whitebait quite easily, and did not pass out when I had duck. (I noticed everyone else ate veg. dishes only.)

Saturday October 4th 1975

At half past four drive up to collect Eric and take him out to George’s house in Henley to mix the song we recorded last night. Eric philosophical about his recent separation from Lyn. He laughed rather ruefully when he told me he’d taken Carey out to the zoo this morning – 'With all the other divorcees,’ as he put it. But he cheers up when we get to Henley and in through the gates of Friar Park, the magnificent, opulent and fantastical mid-Victorian Gothic pile which George bought seven years ago with the Beatle millions. George’s flag flies above its mock embrasures – it’s an Indian symbolic design of the sun and the moon and bears ‘om’ mantra. In the gardens there are grottoes with mock stalactites and stalagmites in mock caves and there are Japanese houses and Japanese bridges and all kinds of other ways in which an enormously rich Victorian can spend money on himself. George has endorsed it all by cleaning everything up and looking after it and generally restoring the place to its former splendours. The nuns whom he bought it from had let it rather go to seed and, according to George, had painted swimming trunks on the cherubs and cemented over the nipples on the some of the statues. It is delightful just to walk around and examine the intricate details of the carving – the recurring naughty friar’s head motif – even in evidence in brass on every light switch (the face is the fitting – the switch is the friar’s nose). It has none of the feel of a big draughty Victorian house, but one can’t escape the feeling of George somehow cut off from everyday life by the wealth that’s come his way. Maybe he feels the same way, for almost the first thing we do is to walk through the grottoes, across the lawns and down to the elaborate iron gates and into the world outside. Henley, with its narrow streets and the fine church tower standing protectively over the little town, with thickly wooded Remenham Hil looming behind. This was the town my mother was born and brought up in – in fact, she had been to Friar Park for tea when it was owned by Sir Frank Crisp, a barrister. Strange to think of the circumstances that brought me into Friar Park sixty years after she came here for tea. Anyway, we all walked down to the local pub – where we drank Brakspear’s Henley Ales and played darts. George was clearly anxious that we should stay the night, play snooker on his Olympic size snooker table, smoke, drink, mix the record and generally enjoy ourselves. But this was my second evening devoted to the ‘Lumberjack Song’ and I wanted to be back with Helen, so I reluctantly resisted most of the mind-bending delights of Friar Park and stuck to a couple of glasses of white wine. Half-way through the evening, George went out into Henley and returned with vast amounts of vegetarian food from a new Indain take-away that had just opened. We all ate too much – George dipping in with fingers only. Home about 4.00. Helen not pleased, as she had really expected me a lot earlier – and I very indignantly tried to tell her how much hospitality I had had to refuse, to get back even by 4.00. Still, it’s no time of night for an argument.

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