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Wednesday, January 30, 2019

Prologue: In My Life

13 July 1985 - Liverpool, England
I groaned inwardly as that bloody alarm clock set off. I swear, if I had me way, they wouldn't exist. Reluctantly, I stretched out one of my arms to stop that damned clock and let gravity bring my arm down, almost touching the floor. I was tempted to go back to sleep, but I couldn't. Wembley was four hours away, and we could not afford to dillydally. Even though we were going to be playing in the evening.

So. I pulled the covers off of me, making sure that my wife didn't wake up and went off to the bathroom to get cleaned and dressed.

I looked up at myself in the mirror. I had to shave, so that was the first thing I did. As you get older, more facial hair comes up through the skin, making your face go long. And then something about eggs and walruses - you already know the lyrics to that, I'm sure.

I still find it hard to imagine how much things have changed in the last three decades. On the railways, trains were pulled by engines powered by steam, and now they were run by diesel or electric. Vinyl records were now starting to go out of fashion in favor of compact discs. Automobiles have become faster and more fuel efficient. Movies now have more advanced special effects, and they're in colour all the time. Same thing for television, in fact. Some places remained where they were; others had been demolished to make way for the new. Some friends that I knew had passed on, but others are still living, and I still love them all.

But the biggest change of them all has been the music.

Back in the 1950s, a time when we had Elvis, Buddy Holly, Chuck Berry, you name it, the music was far simpler. Even with brass instruments. It was all about the guitars and the voice. Music had changed a lot since; more use with synthesizers, more studio experiments, bigger stage productions - it's music, for crying out loud, not Broadway!

And yet, I feel like we hadn't changed a lot from what we were twenty years previous. Alright, that may not be completely true - we've all married, raised families, but still love one another regardless - but what's never changed, even when we were apart for nearly a decade, is that we were still part of the biggest band from the 60s.

I'd soon gotten myself showered and had some brekkie with Maddy, and by 8:00, we were walking outside our hotel to where the others and their respective families were waiting. Ringo was with his ex-wife Maureen, their three kids Zak, Jason and Lee, plus Zak's wife and daughter. In the Ringed One's arm was his new wife Babs. Sadly, her kids Francesca and Gianni couldn't be there.

George and his wife Livvy had their little boy Dhani in between them. Pattie wasn't there either, as she was already at Wembley with Eric. Paul and Linda were surrounded by their kids Mary, Stella, and Jimmy. Linda's oldest, Heather, was talking to Julian, my first-born son. They'd grown close in the past few years; a bit like meself and Paul, only they're more like cousins rather than brother and sister if you know what I mean.

Speaking of, Cynthia was there as well with my second-born son Freddie and little girl Alice. As for Yoko, you ask? Well, it's complicated, let's just say that.

They were all talking and laughing together, which warmed my heart to no end. The Beatles were not just a music group; they were a family, and nothing could spoil that.

Paul was the first to notice my arrival. "Ah, good morning, John," he said to me. "You ready for Wembley?" I nodded and smiled, as if to say "yes."

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