The world has gone officially mad.
Just enjoyed a Sunday lunch at Cranleigh Golf club. Had a fag and a glass of wine overlooking the gym, people on equipment to make them fit. In our day it was called dancing the night away.
It was quite an adjustment moving to Stafford Street, missed all the people from Argyle Street, so every day I would walk over to join the girls for lunch. Kevin Harrington (he was the one with red hair on the roof concert – lovely guy) dropped something off at the office and we walked back together. We were just about to pass the Savoy when he looked at me and said, “you know you’ve missed one”, looking puzzled I said “what do you mean?” “Windows” he said “you’ve looked at your reflection in every single one, but if you just turn this corner Air India has a great mirror.” How vain is that?
I met some very interesting people at Stafford Street, had many phone calls to El Cordobes and Salvador Dali. Looking back, it was just part of my day, but on reflection, whoa. Brian travelled numerous times to Spain; I got the gist after the first visit. But Salvador Dali was another kettle of fish.
Ringo’s wife Maureen, who was probably the brightest person I have ever had the pleasure to know, decided she would like him to do a painting for Ringo. The Beatles name opened any door and we contacted him. He agreed to sign his book and add a drawing, so Peter Brown went off to meet him. We got the book, whatever happened over there was obviously very enjoyable for Peter and he returned numerous times!!!!! The whereabouts of the book is unknown, but that’s another story...
Paul had a habit of visiting the office and nicking my Rothmans, not a problem, because in those days you could afford to share, however it left me short which was really annoying. Brian was very understanding, the solution was buy 200 with petty cash money and keep them in your drawer.
I have to mention parents and family, Brian’s brother Clive was probably the kindest, and so understanding, they came from such a caring family, a privilege to have known them. I suppose in those days delusions of grandeur didn’t exist. Paul’s Dad, Uncle Jim was a warm hearted man and we all enjoyed his company. Then there was Aunty Mimi, for some reason I really liked her, although I hasten to add, others found her difficult. My Mother was not the easiest person to get on with so I probably could relate. Didn’t really know the Harrisons, however, a few years later they said that the girls at Apple sat around painting their nails all day, that didn’t go down well!!!! My favourites by far was Ringo’s parents Elsie and Harry, loved them to bits, so kind and caring, more later.
George had bought Friar Park, a huge house set in many acres of parkland he was 24 years of age, he was a Liverpool lad living in a small semi, but obviously had big dreams, and he made them happen. Friar Park was previously owned by an order of nuns, the whole house needed total refurbishment. The house had been built by a Victorian gentleman called Frank Crisp who obviously had very eccentric taste and a lot of money, he built a replica of Mont Blanc in the garden complete with underground caves and waterways running throughout... as you do.
Before I forget, I have to mention the Four Tops; Brian bought them over for a concert at the Saville. Such great blokes, Levi was talking to me one day and he mentioned he would like to buy a handbag for his wife and asked where the best place to go for it was. “Would you like me to shop for you?” he looked dumb struck, I asked “is that okay?” Levi said, this would never happen in America, “why I asked”? ... “Because you are white”!!!! Needless to say I bought the bag for him and by far it was the best concert ever. I did dance in the aisles.
Life carried on until that fateful weekend. 27th August 1967.
It was quite an adjustment moving to Stafford Street, missed all the people from Argyle Street, so every day I would walk over to join the girls for lunch. Kevin Harrington (he was the one with red hair on the roof concert – lovely guy) dropped something off at the office and we walked back together. We were just about to pass the Savoy when he looked at me and said, “you know you’ve missed one”, looking puzzled I said “what do you mean?” “Windows” he said “you’ve looked at your reflection in every single one, but if you just turn this corner Air India has a great mirror.” How vain is that?
I met some very interesting people at Stafford Street, had many phone calls to El Cordobes and Salvador Dali. Looking back, it was just part of my day, but on reflection, whoa. Brian travelled numerous times to Spain; I got the gist after the first visit. But Salvador Dali was another kettle of fish.
Ringo’s wife Maureen, who was probably the brightest person I have ever had the pleasure to know, decided she would like him to do a painting for Ringo. The Beatles name opened any door and we contacted him. He agreed to sign his book and add a drawing, so Peter Brown went off to meet him. We got the book, whatever happened over there was obviously very enjoyable for Peter and he returned numerous times!!!!! The whereabouts of the book is unknown, but that’s another story...
Paul had a habit of visiting the office and nicking my Rothmans, not a problem, because in those days you could afford to share, however it left me short which was really annoying. Brian was very understanding, the solution was buy 200 with petty cash money and keep them in your drawer.
I have to mention parents and family, Brian’s brother Clive was probably the kindest, and so understanding, they came from such a caring family, a privilege to have known them. I suppose in those days delusions of grandeur didn’t exist. Paul’s Dad, Uncle Jim was a warm hearted man and we all enjoyed his company. Then there was Aunty Mimi, for some reason I really liked her, although I hasten to add, others found her difficult. My Mother was not the easiest person to get on with so I probably could relate. Didn’t really know the Harrisons, however, a few years later they said that the girls at Apple sat around painting their nails all day, that didn’t go down well!!!! My favourites by far was Ringo’s parents Elsie and Harry, loved them to bits, so kind and caring, more later.
George had bought Friar Park, a huge house set in many acres of parkland he was 24 years of age, he was a Liverpool lad living in a small semi, but obviously had big dreams, and he made them happen. Friar Park was previously owned by an order of nuns, the whole house needed total refurbishment. The house had been built by a Victorian gentleman called Frank Crisp who obviously had very eccentric taste and a lot of money, he built a replica of Mont Blanc in the garden complete with underground caves and waterways running throughout... as you do.
Before I forget, I have to mention the Four Tops; Brian bought them over for a concert at the Saville. Such great blokes, Levi was talking to me one day and he mentioned he would like to buy a handbag for his wife and asked where the best place to go for it was. “Would you like me to shop for you?” he looked dumb struck, I asked “is that okay?” Levi said, this would never happen in America, “why I asked”? ... “Because you are white”!!!! Needless to say I bought the bag for him and by far it was the best concert ever. I did dance in the aisles.
Life carried on until that fateful weekend. 27th August 1967.
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