“Does that sound like a car door?” Ritch asked nonchalantly.

Damn! 

I rushed into the house, flapping me jacket to rid it of the smoke.  Raced through the hall and to the door, got there just in time to open it and face…… two enormous piles of packages and bags.  I think there were people behind ‘em, but I wasn’t absolutely sure.  Craned me neck to look out and check the car, yeah, it was Livy an’ Barbara.

A familiar, feminine voice with a distinct American accent came from behind one of the piles as they moved precariously through the door.  You’d think she’d have lost most of it after living in the UK for over ten years!

“George, have you been smoking?”

Damn.  Started sweating, seriously. 

“No, Livy, I haven’t had a ciggie all morning.  Ya know I’m tryin’ t’ quit.  Errrrr, why d’ya ask?”

“Well, it smells really smoky, don’t you smell it?  Like..... a barbecue or something.  But not exactly.  Didn’t you smell it outside?  I smelled it first thing when I pulled up the drive.  Are you burning leaves or something?”

“Errrrr, no, ‘fraid I haven’t really noticed, dear,” I lied, crossing my fingers that she’d believe me.

“Well, take the bags and give me a kiss, we’re just dropping the shopping off, then Barbara and I are off to lunch.”

I swallowed nervously.  This was gonna be the real test.  Loaded me arms down with packages and bags as quickly as possible, finally saw her emerge from behind the boxes and such.  Barbara started loading me up, too.  I was hoping I’d disappear behind all the boxes before the kiss, but Livy leaned in for it.  Saw her nostrils kinda squinch a bit when she got close to me, but I kissed her real quick and stepped back as Barb finished piling me up with boxes before she turned and raced up the stairs. 

Could still see over the tops of the pile of boxes I was holding, but just barely. 

Livy must have some money left over after the morning’s excursion.

The wife squinted her eyes at me and got ‘the look’ on her face.  I was dead.  She was gonna slay me with a glare, and it was worse since Barb had rushed off, Livy’d show no restraint!

“George, you’re all smoky too.  What’s going on?” she asked mildly.

“Nothing!  Really, nothing!  I ...... errrr ...... I just thought I’d turn on the old grill and cook up some veggie burgers fer me an’ Ritch whilst you gurls were out shopping, that’s all......”

She raised an eyebrow at me and I was about to wilt under the pressure she exerted with a single glare.  I bravely continued before she could say anything.

“Livy, it was yer idear that I do some more cooking t’ learn me way ‘round th’ kitchen, an’ when Ritch said he’d teach me, you said……”

“I said that I hoped I wasn’t going to live to regret this, George,” Livy began, frowning.

Barbara saved me life, bless the girl!  She was skipping back down the stairs with a pair of shoes; must ‘ave run up to grab ‘em from the room she and Ritch were staying in for a few days.  It’s not like we didn’t have the room for them, after all, we got more bedrooms than I can count!  And I enjoyed seeing me old mate from time to time. 

Most of the time. 

Maybe not today, though.

“Olivia, I’m starving!  Ready to go?” Barb asked the wife, giving me an absent-minded smile.  “I’ve got the shoes, I want to see if they match that dress we saw this morning.  Thanks, George, you and Ritch have a nice lunch!  Don’t burn down the house!”

I winced. 

Livy gave me ‘the look,’ the one that said “don’t worry, we’ll talk about this later.”  But because of our guest, she let herself be persuaded out the door and back into the car.  Thank Krsna!  Always did like that Barbara girl, ya know, she’s a real sweetheart!  Known her as long as she an’ Ritch have been married, an’ their ten year anniversary was coming up soon!  Or it had just past, can’t quite remember.  I’m lucky I can remember our anniversary. 

Breathed a sigh of relief when I heard the car pull out, then kicked the door shut with me foot and staggered to the front den, dumped the packages and raced back outside.

The fire had grown!

“Holy Christ, Ritch, thought you were gonna put it out, not feed it some more!” I muttered, looking around for the fire extinguisher.

“Well, yer th’ one who wanted t’ burn all these papers, I just put a few more on th’ grill!” he replied with a wild grin.

Bloody pyromaniac!

It all started out so innocently, y’ know.  I just happened to mention to Ritch that I hated seeing all those old checks from Apple and letters we’d written, up for auction at the auction houses.  Made me sick t’ see ‘em there. 

Dunno how those people got hold of ‘em anyway! 

That one I saw last week was the absolute last straw, though.  A check from an old Apple account, from back in the 70’s, made out to Ho Ho Ho, for seven hundred an’ forty pounds, signed by yours truly.  Never mind that Ho Ho Ho was the best Chinese restaurant in Suffolk in the mid 70’s, it just looked bloody ridiculous!  I mean, who eats seven hundred an’ forty pounds worth of Chinese food?  Not to mention when you say it like that, it sounds as if you’d literally eaten kilos of food, not the dollar amount…… oh, never mind!

Well, I’d obviously been feeding an army, but the auction description had hinted that the check had been payment for some wild orgy and lots of drugs.  I think I’d have remembered if it had been an orgy and drugs! 

I hope I’d have remembered if it had been for an orgy and drugs, anyway. 

I couldn’t even sue, though, ‘cause it was only hinted at, they didn’t come right out and accuse me of wild drunken orgies and parties.  God knows there had been enough of ‘em, but we didn’t usually write checks to cover that type of thing!  And anyway, I wouldn’t sue ‘em, hate th’ idear of spending me life in the courts.  It was bad enough being there through the My Sweet Lord fiasco.  “Subconscious plagiarism” my lily white arse!

Well, anyway, I’d mentioned all this to Ritch, and bemoaned the fact that I had boxes of stuff I just couldn’t toss in the rubbish bin!  There were people who dug through the garbage just dreaming of such treasure.  So I’d been piling it up in a room near the back of the house.  The room had finally filled up, and so I started on another room.  It’s not like we’re lacking for rooms.  I lost count of how many we have, to be honest.

But when Livy found out about it, she issued me an order.

“Get rid of it!  Or you’re sleeping with Spike and Jake in the stables!”

I’ve slept in the stables before.  It’s not bad, really.  Well, it’s not bad in the summer anyway, but it was getting chilly at night lately.  And the straw makes me itch a bit.  But the worst of it is that th’ damned roosters start crowing before it’s even light!  I like to sleep in, but it’s impossible out there.  And I couldn’t even play out there!  For some reason, Dhani’s dogs had taken a dislike to me ukulele collection and growled at me every time I tried to play one of the little things.  They’re big dogs, and when they growl, you have to listen.  So the last time I’d had to sleep in the stable, I’d had to twiddle me thumbs for hours before I could finally fall asleep.

So…… I decided I’d better get started on it if I din’t wanna sleep with the dogs and chickens.

Ritch had been the one with the brilliant idea. 

“Let’s burn ‘em!” he’d suggested.

That’d work, wouldn’t it, I thought?  The only question was ‘where’.  Ritch said if we burned all that paper in the fireplaces in the house, we’d heat up the house too much.  And besides, he said, good old Mr. Know-It-All who doesn’t even own his house in Monaco, paper wasn’t good for the flues, or something like that.  I think he meant the chimneys.  But I believed him. 

Din’t know Ritch was a firebug. 

I’ve known him a long time, too.  That was quite a surprise.

Din’t know that paper has some sort of coating that makes it smolder a really nasty smelling smoke.  Took forever to get it to catch light.  Then there was no stopping it.

Guess it’s a good thing we din’t start the fires in the house.  Might have had a real fire to put out.  Like the one last year when the fire department came out.  Damn infernal microwave thingie!  Who knew you couldn’t put aluminum foil in ‘em?

O’ course, facing the fire Ritch had started in the barbecue grill made me wonder if I should call the Henley fire brigade.  Couldn’t find a fire extinguisher, so I grabbed the hose from the main shed in the garden and pulled it ‘round. 

“Ritch, what th’ bloody hell are ya doin’, man??”

The fire was now taller than him and he was feeding it more paper!  The look on his face was gleeful, excited, mad!  Damn!  I might need t’ get me fire engine, the one I use t’ keep me gardens moist!  Only thing is that I dunno quite how to operate it. Yet. 

I turned the hose on the grill, spraying everything and anything.

That included Ritchie, who was standing right beside the grill.

A word of advice. 

Me old friend doesn’t like getting wet unless it’s on his terms.  So if you ever turn the hose on him, be prepared for the consequences. 

I wasn’t quite prepared, I’m afraid, or I’d have been on me toes.  I’m taller than him an’ I can outrun him, ya see. 

But the bastard shocked me when he screamed as the water hit him.  Then he jumped me without warning as I was laughing.

Well, I dropped the hose outta surprise an’ it went flailing about the patio, spraying everything and anything, including all the boxes of paper we’d brought out from the room. 

And me. 

And him. 

And the house.

And th’ dogs who’d come out to see what the fuss was about. 

And the furniture in the house ‘cause we forgot to close the sliding doors. 

And the cat that’d been sitting on the furniture in the house, watching us. 

You’ve never heard such an unholy uproar as a cat getting wet by accident; Margarita’s vocal disapproval of the whole situation nearly rivaled Ritch’s scream of outrage when I’d turned the hose on him.  And by the time we finished wrestling about in the mud and grass, the hose had neatly arranged itself inside the house, pumping out gallons of water all over the carpet and wood flooring.

“D-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-d!”

Looked over t’ the patio, saw Dhani standing there with a fire extinguisher.  The fire was out on the grill, and he’d thought to turn the water off to the hose, thank the Lord.  The boy had the most ferocious scowl on his face.  Looked uncannily like Livy, and that gave me the shivers.  I was in big trouble.

“What are you two doing?  Look at this mess!  I’ve got friends coming over this afternoon,” he scolded.

Poor kid was mortified, I could see it on his face.  It’s not easy being a teenager, I actually remember it pretty well.  Tried to see it through his thirteen-year-old eyes and kinda cringed at the sight we must present.  He must think his dad and his dad’s friend are utter loonies!

“Sorry, Dhani,” I muttered, picking meself up from the mud and grass, giving Ritch a hand up.

“And you, Uncle Ritch!  You’re no more a grownup than my Dad!  Look at you, you’re covered with mud!”

“Sorry, Dhan,” Ritch mumbled, hanging his head. 

Oh, his fans would have loved it, the almighty Mr. Starr had pieces of grass sticking in his hair and a big smudge of mud on his nose.  I couldn’t help it, I started to chuckle, wished I’d had a camera nearby.  The chuckle grew in intensity and I was shortly laughing so hard I could barely stand upright.  Ritch had followed suit, I must look a sight, too!  Dhani merely glared at us in disgust, and that set me off even more.

“Honestly!” he huffed, then turned to look in the house.  “Dad, what are you going to do about this?  The furniture’s going to be ruined!”

A very angry meow came from the room.

“And Margarita’s going to be in a snit for days after this,” Dhani added.  “I suppose I’d best give Uncle Pete a call?” he asked, slanting his eyes my direction.

Good ol’ Pete, my main fixit man!  And good ol’ Dhani, poor kid, having a loony for a dad, always having t’ pick up after me!

Couldn’t help it, started laughing again when Dhani squelched his way into the house to use the phone.  Brushed Ritch off a bit as I listened whilst Dhani called me brother.

“Uncle Pete?  Dad’s been at it again,” he said with a heavy teenage sigh.  “We’ve got some water in the house and it’s a right mess.  Can you arrange cleanup?  Oh, and there’s all these boxes of papers, Dad an’ Uncle Ritch were trying to burn them, can you arrange it safely?  Ta, yeah, I know, he’s a lunatic at times, but that’s Dad, ya know?”  There was a long pause, and Dhani burst out laughing.  “I know, but he’s even worse with Uncle Ritchie here.  Thanks, Uncle Pete, right, I know, but I’ll tell him you said so.”

He came back over to the sliding glass doors and leaned out.

“Uncle Pete said to tell you……”

“…that I’m an idiot and an arsehole,” I concluded, brushing some grass off my trouser legs.  I gave Dhani a grin.  “He’s been calling me that since I was a baby, Dhani, don’t expect he’s gonna stop anytime soon!  Thanks, son,” I added sincerely.

He shook his head at me, but there was a grin in his eyes despite the scowl he determinedly kept on his lips.  He didn’t want to show any amusement to his old man, that’s all.

“Can I trust you two to clean up?” he asked severely.  “Seriously, Dad, I’ve got friends coming over today.  We’re going to watch some movies and stuff, but I don’t want to have to spend half the day keeping an eye on you two!”

I solemnly promised my only offspring that we’d behave.  Who’s the adult here, I wondered suddenly?  My boy squished back into the house and got a towel, then picked up our very wet and bedraggled cat and began to dry her off.  I was a bit worried she’d scratch him, but Margarita’s always been very gentle with the boy.  The glare she turned on me, though, I’d have to nearly say Margarita’s been taking lessons from Livy!

“I’m gonna go clean up an’ change, George, what say we give that cookin’ lesson a try, we’ll put together some lunch, eh?” Ritch asked, slapping me on the back.

My spirits plummeted.  I hate the kitchen.

“Right,” I mumbled.

Spent the next half hour in the bath, hoping he’d forget his offer to give me cooking lessons.  Din’t work, he came and pounded on the door.

“Swear t’ God I’ve never met someone with such an aversion t’ th’ kitchen, Hari!  Hurry it up, yer gonna turn into a prune, ya been in th’ bath so long!  Move yer arse!  Pete’s got th’ people here cleanin’ th’ water an’ stuff, Dhani’s friends are upstairs, an’ I’m hungry, let’s see what we can rustle up in th’ kitchen.”

I reluctantly turned off th’ water and dried off, got dressed, opened the door.  Ritch took me by the arm and pulled me along to the kitchen.

“I don’t have an aversion,” I complained, trying to shake free of his grip, but he wasn’t paying attention.  He’s a wiry, strong feller, even if he is shorter ‘n me.  “I just had some bad experiences, that’s all……”

“Oh, like th’ microwave catching fire?  That’s nothing!” Ritch bragged.  “Why, I nearly burned down our entire condo unit in Monaco one year, George!  Th’ grill caught th’ eaves on fire……”

This wasn’t reassuring. 

“Look, Ritch, I promised Dhani we’d stay out of trouble, maybe we should just order a pizza t’ be delivered from Henley.  Or we could go down t’ th’ pub……”

I wasn’t enticing him.  We were in the kitchen by now and he finally turned me loose.  Rubbed me arm as he began rummaging about in the cupboards and pantry, pulling all sorts of weird things from the drawers and such.

“D’ya fancy an omelet?” he asked.

“I try not t’ eat eggs,” I said dryly.

“Got any substitute stuff?  That works pretty well.”

“I dunno, I try t’ stay away from th’ kitchen whenever possible.”

“Ahh, here it is,” Ritch crowed, pulling a little container from the ‘fridge.

More things followed it to the counter, swear he ‘bout emptied the ‘fridge of everything.  Milk, mushrooms, cheese, the egg stuff……carrots??  The red and green pepper I could understand, even the onion, but carrots?

Pots and pans went flying, bowls were filled and emptied, I was set to work grating cheese in a bowl, then the bowl was whisked away as soon as I was finished.  I was flat out astounded, Ritch had come a long way since the 60’s when I’d done all the cooking in our rented flat.  Cheese sammies an’ fish sticks an’ tea, we’d nearly lived on it! 

Oh, the omelets were lovely!  Just a touch of ground carrot in the mix gave them a lovely flavour and colour.  They were better than anything Rita’d ever cooked!

Errrr, don’t tell her I said that.  The worst thing in the world is to offend yer chief cook.

Dhani came into the kitchen, looking about suspiciously as we finished up our meal.

“Something smells good,” he announced, sniffing hungrily.

Ritch smiled and stood up from the table.  “We made some omelets, want some fer you an’ yer friends, Dhan?”

Dhani nodded cautiously.  “Well, if you’re cooking……”

I tried not to be crushed.  The Lord knows that Dhani’s had enough experience with me in the kitchen to be wary.  Ritch just nodded.

“G’on back upstairs, we’ll bring everything up shortly, won’t take long.”

“Ta, Uncle Ritch, ta, Dad.  I didn’t mean……”

“No problem, Dhani,” I managed.  Must not have hidden th’ blow very well.  “I’ll watch Ritch,” I added, shooing my boy towards the kitchen door.

Ritch winked at me as soon as Dhani was out the door.  “C’mon Georgie, yer turn t’ cook.”

I was aghast.  “I can’t do that!”

“Sure ya can!  I’ll be right beside ya every step o’ th’ way!”

***

I tried not to hover over the lads.

“Mmmmm, this is good, Uncle Ritch, ta!” Dhani announced, scooping up another forkful of omelet into his mouth.

Marcus crunched energetically on his toast, nodding his agreement.

“Mmmmm, yeah,” Fred added.

Had to look away from Fred, he’d put a forkful of omelet on his toast an’ jam, then ate it all together.  Wouldn’t have been bad ‘cept fer th’ jam, something ‘bout egg an’ toast an’ sweet jam all together just kinda gave me th’ shivers.  ‘specially with the red and green peppers and cheese and mushrooms.  Jam and cheese and mushrooms just don’t mix politely in my experience. 

But all in all, I was flushed with success.  I’d done the entire lot, Ritch had been as good as his word, had stood right beside me every step of the way and had talked me through it all!

“Ya know, yer dad did th’ cookin’,” Ritch announced with a contented air of satisfaction.  Kinda made me think of when he was writing that octopus song during some sessions back in the 60’s and I’d helped him a bit.  A fatherly type of pride in another’s work, so to speak. 

Looked over at the boys when I realized that absolute silence had fallen in the room after Ritch’s statement.

Dhani had stopped chewing.

Marcus took a breath and choked on his toast and Ritch had to hit him on the back.

Fred just stared at me with wide, round eyes of surprise and shock, his mouth hanging open and full of omelet and jam and toast.  Disgusting, really.

The silence was rather profound, ‘cept for Marcus sputtering over his toast.

“Really?” Dhani managed, swallowing his food in a gulp.  “Good job, Da,” he added weakly, striving for a casual tone.

I grinned and retreated.  Gave Ritch a high five on the way down the stairs.  He grinned back at me, but cautioned me as well.

“Don’t get cocky, now, son, it’s jus’ an omelet!”

“What’ll we cook next?” I asked, eager to try my new skills on something else.

We rummaged about the kitchen and pretty soon everything that had been in the ‘fridge and everything that had been in a cupboard or drawer, was now on the counter.  Eyeing the raw ingredients, we considered our options.

***

“George, I really can’t eat another bite, I’m stuffed,” Livy complained.

“C’mon, Liv, just try it!  Please?  Fer me?  One waffer thin mint?” I joked.

I cajoled her into a bite of the peach pie I’d made and she made enough yummy noises that I was placated.

Truth t’ tell, I was pretty stuffed, too.  We’d had butternut squash soup with a swirl of red pepper sauce and antipasto salad with red wine vinegar and herbed oil.  That was followed by grilled baby veggies fresh from the garden (had to do ‘em on th’ kitchen grill, th’ outside grill still had paper residue and fire extinguisher foam in it), spicy lentil and nut loaf with a lovely brown sauce flavoured by cumin and other herbs and spices.  Oh, and fresh sourdough rolls with butter and a raw strawberry jam.  Fresh peach pie with home-made vanilla bean ice cream was the finishing touch.

Dhani was staring at me with this really amazed look on his face, and I was feeling dead chuffed with meself.

***

Ritch and Barbara left at the end of the week, headed off t’ wander about Italy for a week or two before returning home.  I was really sorry t’ see ‘em go, I’d quite enjoyed th’ week they’d been visiting.  Felt a bit lonely after they left.

So I started cooking.  Decided to start at Appetizers and work me way through Desserts.

“George!  Enough!” Livy proclaimed two weeks later.  “I’ve gained five pounds, and you’re looking a little bit pudgy!  Dhani’s complaining that his school clothes won’t fit any longer, and Spike and Jake are almost ready to start rolling down the stairs in the mornings, they’re getting so fat from all the leftovers!  No more cooking, you’ve turned into a Franken-cook!  You just don’t know when to stop!  You’re hereby banned from the kitchen, Rita’s going to take over on the meals again.”

Groused about in a depression for a week after that.  Wasn’t my fault they liked my cooking!  I wasn’t forcing ‘em to eat it all up!  And I was not looking pudgy.  Me clothes were just shrinking a bit in the wash, that’s all.

Promptly lost every bit of skill I’d ever had in the kitchen. 

The next time I tried to boil water, I scorched the pot when I let the water boil away.  And the hot mitt got a bit singed, left it too close to the flame.  I sneaked in there t’ try me hand at an omelet one Sat’day morning and it ended up being scrambled egg mix with veggies and it wasn’t done in one spot and burnt black in another, so I gave it up completely.  The kitchen was utterly off limits to me.  Again.  My old aversion to the kitchen returned and grew stronger, so I just avoided the room utterly.

Bored.

Bored, bored, bored.

“George, I just hate it when you mope around the house!  Can’t you get back into the gardening thing?” Livy asked one evening.

Stung, I snapped back, “I’ve never stopped gardening!  I do that in the early evening, before nightfall!”

“Well, I don’t like you being depressed.  I’m sorry I ever started in on you.  Why don’t you call Paul and see if he’d like to come over and maybe you two can work on some  songs?”

I snorted.  “No chance o’ that, we always end up at each other’s throat when we work t’gether.  Don’t see it happening anytime soon, don’t wanna ruin our friendship.”  Thought about him for a few minutes and had t’ grin.  “Still, I enjoyed th’ last time ‘e was over here.  It was great when ‘e got lost in th’ garden maze, wasn’t it?”

We shared a chuckle at the memory.  Lin and Livy had been enjoying a cuppa in the front den, and Paul and I’d been walking the grounds.  I led him into th’ maze and then sprinted off when he was bent over sniffing one o’ the rose bushes.  He was utterly furious by th’ time he found his way out. 

I’d loved it, and Lin had told him to ‘lighten up.’ 

‘s quite a fond memory!

“I’m glad you’ve started learning how to be friends with him again.”  Livy smiled at me, then picked up the cross stitch thingie she was working on.  “Well, I hope you get over your mood before long.  You’re nearly unbearable when you’re like this.”

I was looking at her when she got this funny look on her face, as if she’d had a brilliant idea.

“What?” I asked.

“Hmmmm?”  She looked up at me, and I could tell there was excitement in her eyes.  “Oh…… nothing……”

Sighed.  Knew she wouldn’t spill anything, she can be th’ most closemouthed person I’ve ever known, I think it’s her heritage.  Or else it’s a woman thing!

Eric rang me up the next day, with some blabber ‘bout a tour he was putting together in the winter, to Japan, told me it was great there and did I wanna come along?  Laughed in his ear, told him he was mad and rang off before he could say anything else.

Eric called back that evening.  Tried again.  Then he started coming ‘round th’ house.  

Every day!  I started getting suspicious.

“Ya better not be tryin’ t’ steal me second wife, Eric,” I growled at him ‘bout a week later.

He just laughed at me.  “C’mon th’ tour with me, George, it’s not a full tour, just a wee bit of one, an’ th’ Japanese audience is great, you’ll love it, seriously!  C’mon, man, think about it, at least!”

“Did Livy put ya up t’ this?” I asked suddenly.

Eric was never very good at hiding guilty feelings.  Took ‘im years (and years!) to stop feelin’ guilty ‘bout the thing with Pattie.

“Ah ha!  She did put ya up t’ this!” I exclaimed.  “Livy!”

“What is it, dear?”

Was there a bit of an edge to the ‘dear’?

A word to the wise.  Don’t ever shout for your wife to come running.  You’ll pay for it later.  You’ll pay for it even worse if you’ve got a little spitfire Mexican wife!

“Why d’ya want me runnin’ off t’ Japan t’ tour with Eric?” I asked her point blank.

She din’t try t’ deny it.  “Because you’re moping around the house all the time and you’re bored.  I thought it would be good for you, and I thought you’d enjoy it.  And I’m hoping getting you out of the house might be a way for you to quit smoking!”

“Yeah?” I asked challengingly.

“Yeah,” she replied, staring me directly in the eyes.

Eric stayed out of it.  Smart man.

They kept after me an’ after me for the next month.  I finally decided maybe I had become too home-bound, maybe I did need to get out and do something like this. 

T’ be truthful, I was scared t’ death.  Hadn’t been on stage in years and years!  But at the same time, the prospect was kinda exciting!

“Yer not gonna do that God-awful Layla song, are ya?” I asked Eric.

He just grinned at me.  “I dunno, yer not gonna do that piss poor song of yers, are ya?”

Grinned back.  “Which piss poor song would that be, son?  Th’ one with that miserable guitar solo?  What’s it called?  While My Guitar Gently Weeps, or some such garbage?”

He pretended to be wounded.  “That was me best solo ever!”

“Bet ya don’t even remember how t’ play it,” I accused.

I wasn’t far wrong! 

Eric’s solo had been nearly spontaneous back when we’d recorded it, and we had to spend a lot of time listening to the commercial release of the song in order to have him recreate what he’d done back in the 60’s.  I had a grand time slagging him ‘bout his poor memory.  Th’ rehearsals were fun, enjoyed them a lot.  But th’ very idear of being on stage in front of a bunch of people……. well, I never wanted t’ be in front of thousands of people, all staring at me.  Started doin’ th’ interviews and tried t’ hide my cold feet.

Th’ flight t’ Japan was long and boring, with far too much time to think.  Leaving Livy and Dhani behind like that, well, it really bothered me.  I knew they’d be coming over for a few of the concerts once Dhan got on school holidays, so that helped a bit.  And my boy had only ever seen me on stage once or twice, so this was gonna be a new experience for him, I suppose.

I was so God-awful nervous before the first show, I nearly lost me lunch, but thank God Eric was there t’ keep me sane!  I don’t actually ‘member much of that first concert, but left th’ stage t’ the applause an’ then everybody was pounding me on the back and congratulating me and telling us both what a great concert it had been.

“You were on fire out there, George, it was brilliant, incredible!”

Dunno who said it, but it was repeated by a few more people, and Eric was grinning ear to ear.  The post-concert party was a sight to behold!  It’s not that I’d forgotten what they were like, it’s just that I wasn’t very interested any longer.

Had a couple of drinks, smiled and made pretty with the rich and famous, then looked ‘round the room.  Found Eric at the center of a group of adoring fans and gave him a comradely hug before escaping.  I sat in my dressing room for half an hour, utterly drained and depressed, yet quietly exhilarated.  It was weird, the exhilaration and depression was pretty strong, like a battle going on inside of me.  Lit a ciggie before remembering I was trying to quit, and stubbed it out carefully.  A knock on the door roused me from my trance.

“George?” Eric said, opening the door and peeking around it.  “You okay, man?”

I chuckled, wondering if he was surprised to find me alone.  “It’s a bit different, innit?”

“What?” he asked with a puzzled expression.

“Last time I was doin’ a tour like this, it was all gurls an’ groupies ev’rywhur, no rest fer th’ weary, constant go-go-go, ya know?”  Kinda wiggled me eyebrows so he knew what I was talkin’ ‘bout.

He laughed with a reminiscent nod.  “Yeah, there’s still plenty o’ that if ya want, there’s always willin’ girls…….” he said, with a nod of his head down the hall, to the sounds of the continuing party.

I shook my head ruefully.  “Nah, not really interested in that any longer.”

“Fires burned out, old man?” he asked with a decidedly wicked grin.

Shook me head again an’ gave him a good natured smile.  “Nah, th’ fires burn pretty strong on th’ home hearth, man.  Ya oughta try it some day,” I suggested quietly.

He was still and quiet for a moment, then nodded slowly.  “Yeah, maybe I will.”  He flashed me another grin.  “Someday.  C’mon, man, th’ car’s prob’ly waitin’.  Bet Livy an’ Dhan wanna know how first night went.”

Cheryl Mortensen has been a Beatle fanatic since the 1960s, but somehow went on to other things in the late 1960s, only rediscovering her passion for "all things Beatle" in the late 1990s (and on into the new century).  She is a computer programmer and an avid photographer. (Concert photos of bands and performers is her favorite area -- ask her about her Ringo pictures!!)  Cheryl lives with her husband of many years (Mike), her German Shepherd (Sorsha), and a bunch of fish in the tank and the pond that they've never bothered to name.