#iris caldwell

[tavolgisvist]

gif by evansbuckely

Sitting on a cornflake waiting for the van to come Corporation tee shirt stupid bloody Tuesday man, you've been a naughty boy you let your face grow long

(I Am The Walrus, 1967, Magical Mystery Tour)

Sunday's on the phone to Monday, Tuesday's on the phone to me

(She Came In Through The Bathroom Window, 1969, Abbey Road)

Tuesday afternoon is never ending, Wednesday morning papers didn't come. Thursday night your stockings needed mending, see how they run!

(Lady Madonna, 1968)

“Every Tuesday, Paul and I used to go to the pictures. One night, John, Paul and I went out for something to eat to a little cafe. We had nearly finished the main course and they both winked at each other and then they started to have this terrible row across the table. I’m thinking, what’s going on? They were shouting at each other until we all got thrown out so we didn’t have to pay.”

(Iris Caldwell, Oct 2012, BBC News 12: Looking back at the birth of The Beatles)

Paul's Tuesday as the theme of an animated film based on David Wiesner’s children’s book and the track on Paul’s Working Classical

Just for fun - and for your, lovely @i-am-the-oyster, joy <3

[beatlesficrecs]

Fic: oh darling, pardon me

by: inherownwrite

Link to fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36734302

Summary:

Mid-eighties. John and Paul are together. Paul is nervous about their new album coming out, and John soothes him using the tried and true method of combing his legs...

Why I like this fic:

this writer is so good at writing J/P middle-aged and old men love. This story is so warm and real and comforting---and the sensuality of the leg combing is to die for! John's POV. (And let's face it, we all want to see John alive and happy and dealing with his skittish man Paul like no one else can.)

Thank you @alameda444 for leading me back to this story! 🪮💕

Link to fic

[rorystormandthehurricanes]

(from left to right) Ernest Caldwell, Iris Caldwell, Alan "Rory Storm" Caldwell, and Violet "Vi" Caldwell.

" Throughout this period [after WWII] we can also get a sense of the kindness of this 'mild-mannered' man, as Ernie began to take notice of people's situations during his work. If he saw a home with no fire burning during the cold months he would later return to leave a bag of coal on the doorstep. He would often set out early for work, giving himself enough time to clean the windows free of charge for many who could not afford to pay. He would also give his time to a number of charities, and even sent crates of oranges to Russia when he heard that people were starving there.

(..) By [1944] it was also clear that young Alan had a bad speech impediment. At first, the family doctor tried to help Alan. He was then sent to have hypnosis therapy, but it failed to help him control his stammer. A stutter back in those days was not looked upon kindly, with those who stammered being classed as stupid. He also had a new hobby - fire. He would light fires on the bombed areas that he played on, then wait until the firemen arrived to put the fire out, fascinated as he watched them. Alan attended Broad Green Infants and Juniors school. He liked it, but struggled with his speech.

Although his stammer was rather severe, Alan would not let it hold him back. He loved playing out, was full of energy, and had turned into a practical joker, telling one teacher who asked him his name that it was 'Alan Cornflake' as it was easier for him to say than Caldwell. "

- FROM A STORM TO A HURRICANE: Rory Storm & the Hurricanes, Anthony Hogan (2016)

[underthecitysky]

Iris Caldwell interview

[wingsoverlagos]

From this interview for the BBC, October 2, 2012

“Every Tuesday, Paul and I used to go to the pictures. One night, John, Paul and I went out for something to eat to a little cafe. We had nearly finished the main course and they both winked at each other and then they started to have this terrible row across the table. I’m thinking, what’s going on? They were shouting at each other until we all got thrown out so we didn’t have to pay.”

— Iris Caldwell

[quiltofstars]

The Iris Nebula, C4 // Emmanuel Valentin

The Iris Nebula is a reflection nebula discovered by William Herschel (1738-1822) in 1794. Reflection nebulae are clouds of dust that are reflecting the light from a nearby star. Red light passes through the dust, whereas blue light doesn't and is reflected.

[femmefataleart]

Executive Assistant Iris by Talent Caldwell

[delightfullyatomicfest]

In 2010, Pang attended an exhibition of Julian’s photos. Ono and her son with Lennon, Sean, were there, too. “I was not allowed to be photographed anywhere near them,” she says. “The other person who wasn’t allowed to be photographed was Pattie Boyd [George Harrison’s ex and a former crush of Lennon’s]. We were just ignored.”

(May Pang)

Uh was this just common knowledge?

Apparently yes!

[i-am-the-oyster]

@anotherkindofmindpod

^^ Here's another perspective on Paul's relationship with Stuart that Lewisohn didn't use.

(There's also one source that claims that Pete Best said Paul wrote P.S. I Love You "to remember Stu Sutcliffe" which is really intriguing).

Iris Caldwell - sister of Rory Storm - who dated Paul in Liverpool 1962ish:

“Our house was an escape for him,” says Iris.  “My mother was so easy to get along with. So he’d escape back to our place and eat cheese sandwiches and drink tea, talking all night.  He’d idolised his own mother. It was like losing a limb when she died, and he’d had to rebuild himself.

He felt he had a responsibility to his mother’s memory, to say to her ‘I’m still me’.  He had to show her he was a survivor.  He couldn’t let his mum or dad or brother see him going to pieces.  He had to block her death out as a matter of self-preservation. It had been a bad age for him to lose her, because it’s a transition period: suddenly you are given responsibility, you realise there’s more to life than you thought and that the world is not a very nice place.  But you still need the reassurance of those parental figures in the background.

He hadn’t been able to put any pressure on his dad - in fact, his dad, for all his exuberance, was leaning on him.  So Paul had had to prove that he was strong.

I never heard him say a bad word about anyone. I know how much he liked Stuart. But what Paul had got was ambition; he wouldn’t have approved of Stuart going off with a girl and troubling their potential. Who wants to settle down with Astrid when there’s a world to conquer?  I don’t know of Paul ever stepping on anyone. The only person he was ruthless with was himself.  Even in the Pete Best situation, it was because Ringo was a better drummer.

He was terribly distressed by Stuart’s death - it was another ending of the life of someone near in spirit to him.  Why should he have to prove he’s very upset?  You live with yourself.

The difference between Paul and my brother was his total dedication, which all the beatles had: they lived it, they deserved everything they got.  And Paul and John were very talented boys.

Paul was so determined, with a total belief in himself to an extent that some would think he was self-centred and in love with himself. But he wasn’t - it was just that he wasn’t ordinary, and knew that he wasn’t.  He wasn’t thinking ‘I’m getting ten pounds a week for being in a band - better than working’.

He wouldn’t run with the crowd. If he liked a record or a group you weren’t supposed to like, he’d say so.  If he wouldn’t join in for a whipround in the pub, or go off pulling birds all the time, maybe it was because he had other things to do instead; he had to get on with it. He was very correct and liked people around him to be correct.  He never swore, he never told a dirty joke. Paul was the whole driving force in the group, he was the clever one. And he was all right, Paul, he worked for everything he got.”

McCartney the Biography, by Chris Salewicz

[tewwor]

date ideas (•̀ᴗ•́ )و

take eun on a coffee date at a cat cafe and he’ll have the time of his life not only chatting away with his date but also playing with the cats. please be aware that there will be a very good chance he walks out adopting one.. or two.

take iris up on his offer for dinner and movies at his place. he cooks well enough, knows exactly how to set the mood right, and nothing extra has to happen if they don’t want — he’s just content to lounge in comfort with a new show or three running for the night.

take clarence on an adventure to something new! there’s a lot he hasn’t experienced and he’s always stoked to try out new things. want to go see something on broadway? sure, he knows jackshit about musicals but he’ll be floored regardless! want to go wine tasting at some vineyard? sure, sounds like a boozetastic time and who knew grapes could do such wonders! how about a cruise? the only ship he’s been on is chips, so sail away and watch him get hooked on bingo!

take cruor to some botanical garden or flower field and watch him get uncharacteristically quiet whenever he sees a particularly breathtaking view. i’m talking about that ‘too awed to say anything’ kind of quiet. .. but also go watch a movie with him and boink him in the car.

take vector somewhere quiet and watch how he unfolds as time passes. some less known clearing to park at, a secluded spot on some trail, at home — whatever it may be, he’s a simple man that likes to be away from distractions and prying eyes. 

take jackrabbit on a roadtrip and she'll be bursting with joy! always running that brain ten miles a minute, there’s something about seeing and experiencing new places that can fine tune all that energy into aw. don’t forget to take lots of pictures! she'll want to look back on them later and remanence.

take adal out to the beach on a sunny day or even go fishing with him. he's even got a waterfront home, so they can even stay the night. give him the chance and anything that’s caught can be cleaned and cooked to perfection ( he’s had plenty of practice before ). and what’s more romantic than cooking fish over a spit with some good drinks / conversation and the midnight sky twinkling above?

[the-maddest-robot]

Photo of the Iris nebula / Caldwell 4 / NGC 7023, I'm very pleased with this one since I finally managed to capture the surrounding dust (barely visible in the 2 previous attempts). This is a reflection nebula, this means that it's a dust cloud reflecting the light from a nearby star. Being one of the brightest reflection nebula visible in the northern hemisphere it's visible in relatively small telescopes (4-6 inch / 100-150mm diameter), unfortunately the outer dust clouds can only be seen on photos. Reflection nebula generally tend to be blue due to a more efficient scattering of blue light compared to red by the dust particles (M45 in my previous post is another good example).

[possum-quesadilla]

Here’s an intro post for Hunter, the android in my book “That Dog Won’t Hunt”!

Hunter Warren, or JC-19, is an android sent from the future to prevent the death of one Dakota Caldwell! (He actually does not have a given name, Dakota eventually names him that so they don’t have to call him “hey you” anymore.) This is their last mission after multiple previous successful ones. It’s quite simple: prevent Dakota from being killed, or else a civil war happens down the line!

The company that created Hunter is one that looks for flaws / possible branches in the timeline and sends androids to ensure it stays intact, and that it leads to the thriving future they enjoy. They use a mixture of mechanics and organic / pseudo organic matter to create their androids, and they work spectacularly! They can appear human in so many ways, it’s almost uncanny. Just don’t look too close, or you’ll see the lack of pores or the cameras in their eyes!

Androids have very limited rights. They have “rights”. They are not quite treated as property anymore, due to them having organic / pseudo organic parts, but they are not treated well. There is no retirement plan or anything like that for them. They can’t vote, or move, or get married without permission from an entire jury. Sucks to suck!

The head case worker that created Hunter thought it would be interesting to use brain matter belonging to an autistic individual for his processor, so she basically created a being with autism and then sent him on high stress missions. How fun!

Hunter’s face is often one of neutral displeasure, and his tone frequently sounds annoyed or bored. He never learned how to properly smile, so it honestly looks more like a threat display of his teeth when he tries. He is usually very still and stares very hard.

But when he is genuinely happy or excited, his smiles are blindingly bright and wide, and he cannot seem to keep still. Very few people get to see this side of him, as he is a business-first type person. (Well, not person. Robot.)

Hunter chose his appearance, unlike previous missions, so he is quite happy with it. It was very purposeful. Little design notes for him:

- Glasses: Hunter does not need glasses, as he has enhanced vision. But he likes the aesthetics of them, so he purposefully chooses to wear little circular silver glasses.

- Fangs: yep, Hunter has canine-like teeth! He was not given too many weapons to keep a low profile, and his case workers knew he’d be in more close-quarters combat for this mission, so they gave him sharpened teeth! Makes his smile even more unsettling.

- Eyes: On the surface, Hunter has normal steel blue eyes. However, when you get closer, you can see that they are cameras, with the iris / pupil serving as the lense. There is a small gap between the iris and the false sclera, where you can see a hint of his inner circuits and a light! That light in particular changes color depending on his mood, so although his expressions are usually blank, you can tell very easily how he’s really feeling thanks to his built-in mood ring! (I’m working on a key for his mood colors currently.)

- Beauty mark: Hunter has a beauty mark on his right cheek, below his eye! He based it on a human he greatly admired.

- Clothing: He dresses rather strangely, with mostly sleek-black pieces that are long and flowing. He wears elbow-length gloves, a long, flowing cloak, and a dorky circular-brimmed hat. He blends in well at night, but stands out in the day.

Description? Kinda?:

- Korean American, with slicked-back black hair and steel blue eyes. His eyes are actually cameras, and you can see the lights of his circuits within his head in the gaps between the lense. (Between his iris and sclera) These lights work as a mood ring, and you can always blatantly tell how he’s feeling. They only turn pink for Dakota. Wears circular silver glasses and wears lots of black. A large, wide-brimmed black hat, long black cloaks, black gloves. Appears lithe and thin, but packs quite a punch. Covers up a majority of his body with clothing.

What can Hunter do?

Great question! Here’s a list of a few common questions you can ask him on what he can and cannot do.

Picrew(s):

(To be updated as I create more, this one is not completely accurate)

[underthecitysky]

Several years after his mother’s death, McCartney, Harrison, and some friends were playing with a Ouija board. Per the book Paul McCartney: A Life by Peter Ames Carlin, McCartney sat “bolt upright in his chair” when the board began to spell about a message from Mary McCartney. He was transfixed until Harrison started laughing. He’d been pushing the planchette to make it seem as though the message was coming from McCartney’s late mother. “Paul jumped on him,” McCartney’s on-and-off-again girlfriend Iris Caldwell said. “He wasn’t very happy about it.”

Source (x)

Photo by Mike McCartney:

“On board the Royal Iris just before the boys performed on the all-night Riverboat Shuffle [presumably on July 6, 1962]. They’re in the second-best dressing room — Acker Bilk had the star’s room — behind the captain’s bridge. We’d heard of something called an ouija board. We knew you turned a glass upside down on a table and somehow it would connect you to the supernatural. So the boys held each other’s wrists to create a magic circle. The only thing we didn’t know was that you had to put your hand on the glass!” - Mike McCartney, Remember: The Recollections and Photographs of Michael McCartney (1992) “We once did a Ouija board thing when we were kids, it was just me, George… and John, I think… So we weren’t really into all that, but somebody just said, ‘Let’s do it.’ So we’re touching the glass, you know, saying ‘OK, nobody push it, OK?’ So then, suddenly… whoa, it’s moving! Now, my mum had died a couple of years before and it says, ‘Congratulations… son…’ And we’re going, ‘NO!’ ‘Congratulations… son… number one… In NME!’ And so we were all, ‘Oh, f**k off! There’s no way she would know what NME was’. And there’s George, you know (laughing). He’d been pushing it all the time! Bad boy!” - Paul McCartney, NME, October 2010 (x)

[cevansbrat0007]

Twin Flames: Part One

Summary: When firefighter Curtis Everett suspects that he's found his twin flame, he plans to slowly ease her into his lifestyle of dominance and submission. Until one night when it all goes up in smoke. Firefighter!Curtis Everett x OFC

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death, House Fires, Mention of Exes, Mentions of D/s Lifestyle, Mentions of Daddy Kink, Alcohol Consumption, Eventual Smut, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Dedicated to @curls-and-eyeliner for helping me flesh this out. This installment is part of my ongoing Trio Series. There will be a second part to this, detailing Curtis and Ruby's actual first meeting the night of the play party. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.

___

As a firefighter, Curtis Everett has seen some terrible things in his line of work as a first responder. He's lost people on the job more than once. But the first time it happened…

The memory of that night still follows him. The things he witnessed, the smell of charred flesh. That’s the kind of shit that changes a person, it leaves behind a lasting mark.

The first person he ever lost while out on a call – it wrecked him. And in the aftermath Curtis was left to deal with it all on his own because Serena, his girlfriend of several years, was too busy partying to pick up the phone when he needed her. She had swiped his credit card so that she could show her friends a good time, which also included half the bar. 

After all, it wasn’t like it was her money. And although they ended things soon after, that woman wasn’t prepared to go quietly. She felt that she’d put up with a lot from him, especially whenever she reluctantly allowed him to indulge in some of his darker fantasies. 

In her mind, he owed her. And in time, she would collect.

But Curtis would eventually recover from that loss and move on, because that’s kind of one of the requirements of the job. After that horrible night, he vowed to do better. He became laser focused, determined to push himself to the limit. And it worked, at least for a while. But sometimes life is rather unpredictable.  

Just like the flames.

The next time he lost someone on his watch, it threatened to take him his fucking knees. Because that day – that day the victim was a little girl. Iris Caldwell, who was barely five-years-old. Her weeping mother had kept repeating over and over again that she’d just had a birthday two days prior.

And they had plans to celebrate that weekend. But the flames…they’d gotten to her first. And her tiny lungs had been no match for the heat and the smoke. 

Curtis had been the one to carry out her small, lifeless body - tears clouding his vision through the cover of his mask. He handed her off to an EMT and then stood motionless several yards away as chaos surged around him. His eyes were trained on the child, his frozen gaze never leaving her fallen form as the crew desperately tried to resuscitate her. However, when their efforts proved to be unsuccessful he placed the weight of that blame squarely upon his own shoulders. 

He’d been the one who failed poor Iris. And then the endless loop of “what-ifs” began. 

What if they’d arrived at the scene a few moments sooner? What if he’d been just a fraction of a second quicker as he was making his way into the house, trying to navigate a path through the blaze? What if he hadn’t struggled to break down the heavy oak door that had kept them from Iris, leaving her trapped to contend with the flames alone before she eventually succumbed to her injuries?

Later that night, someone showed him her picture, one of his teammates that had been with him on the call. In the photo, Iris had been wearing a sparkly pink crown, looking every inch the princess she was pretending to be. But it was her eyes that struck him – those big, beautiful eyes that reminded him so much of someone else he’d encountered not too long ago. A person that he’d met at one of the parties he liked to frequent as of late in his search to find the right woman. 

The type of woman who enjoyed the same games he liked to play. The type of woman who could manage him, who could accept him for the man that he was and would always be. A woman who was not only capable of understanding his dominant nature, but of embracing it.

He’d met a woman who’s spirit called to his own – so much so that when she abruptly left, he chased her down. Curtis had felt compelled to know her, to gentle the young woman who’s inner fire seemed to burn so bright, he couldn’t bear to watch it be so clumsily extinguished by someone else. By a lesser man who wouldn’t understand, nor appreciate, the gift that would be her eventual submission.

Rubeena Maxwell. That had been her name. And what they’d shared the night at Club Domino after he’d chased her down had been amazing. But he hadn’t pursued her after that, wanting to court her right. To show her that he could be the man he knew she deserved. And in order to do that he had to be on top of his game.

As a man. As a Dominant. And as a Daddy.  

But the night he and his team had lost that child, deep down he knew that he couldn’t go through this alone. Well, he could, but he didn’t want to – even as he tried to drink it all away. 

That night he tried to bury himself so deep in the bottom of a bottle that it – along with everything else – would all fade away. Wanted to get so drunk off his ass that he wouldn’t have to feel a damn thing until after morning light. However, when that proves to be damn near impossible he leaves the bar in search of another form of solace. 

He knew that he needed something more. He needed her.

Ruby.

They weren’t together, at least not yet. They’d only been out a few times, enough for her to realize that there was more to Curtis than he initially let on. There was pain, there was baggage, as well as the ghost of an ex-girlfriend who was still taking up so much space that it left virtually no room for a third person.

For Ruby to stake her claim on this man’s heart.

So she tried to put the brakes on things, effectively ending their relationship before it had truly ever begun. Because in truth, she had her own issues to contend with. And none of them involved a charming six-foot-something firefighter sporting a chiseled jaw and tempting blue eyes.     

However, when he showed up on her doorstep two weeks after their very first meeting, looking every bit as lost as confused she felt, she had no choice but to let him in. Especially since the gorgeous first responder appeared to be so drunk he could barely stand, let alone talk.

The moment she opened her door, Curtis pulled her into his arms, whispering into her curls over and over again about how sorry he was – for everything. For not being enough. For not getting there in time. Followed by a litany of nonsensical rambles about Ruby’s eyes, and how there was so much life in them. 

And how he never wanted to be the reason that it disappeared. 

Curtis just wanted to tell her – someone, anyone, really – that he had tried that day. That he had resolved himself to do better. And then he broke, right there on her front porch as she wrapped her arms around his big body as his powerful shoulders shook with the force of his tortured sobs. 

And whether she knew it or not, that was the night Rubeena Maxwell opened her heart to the beautifully damaged man who would become her lover, her partner, and the most dominant force in her life. 

That was the night she and Curtis Everett became a team. And this right here is just the beginning of their story before they would eventually become part of The Trio.

Next part coming soon...

[crepesuzette2023]

Paul McCartney, Celia Mortimer, Iris & Vi Caldwell & Mike McCartney: Sketches for a Coming-of-Age Novel.

All quotes from TUNE IN by Mark Lewisohn, except the last one.

[Paul] had two main girlfriends in the last weeks of 1962 and neither knew of the other. One was Celia Mortimer, 17, the strikingly attractive redhead from art school who designed her own clothes and was a big Beatles fan at the Cavern.

'In my first year at art College everyone was wild about trad jazz, but then word came up the hill that ‘things were happening’ at the Cavern; a few of us went down one lunchtime to have a look—and there were the Beatles. […] It was the first time anyone in Britain had the black polo neck, black corduroy, existentialist look. I instantly took their lead and started to make hip black corduroy things to wear.'

‘[…] Paul was attractive, intelligent, arty, all the things that appealed to me, plus he was good to be with: a genuine, gentle person who wanted to please. He was the complete opposite of John, who was snarly and grumpy and incredibly, incisively funny. Paul was the nice one. We started to go out, but things were still quite innocent. Because I lived some way out of Liverpool there weren’t many places we could go, except to sit in his dad’s front room or my friend’s front room, or the cinema—we saw the first James Bond film.’ EXOTIC NIGHTMARES

Paul’s other girlfriend was Iris Caldwell—Rory Storm’s witty, pretty, blonde sister; George’s first love; the 18-year-old daughter of Ma Storm, whose house, Hurricaneville at 54 Broad Green Road, was central to the Beatles’ late-night social scene.

‘He had a beautiful voice and puppy-dog eyes,’ Iris says, ‘and he was much more interested in me than I was in him. I wanted more than a tuppence-ha’penny guitarist of a Liverpool group.’ Iris’s professional dancing career had taken off: she was as busy as Paul, working summer seasons and London shows and touring around the country; they could only see each other when their diaries dovetailed, and just as Paul was with Celia when Iris was out of town, she was secretly going out with Frank Ifield. […]

Iris always knew that a big part of the attraction for anyone going out with her or Rory was the chance of extended time at Hurricaneville, to hang longer around her dad Ernie and especially her mum, Vi. […] ‘Mum never chucked anyone out,’ Iris says. ‘We were all late-night people apart from me dad, who the Beatles called the Crusher because he had exotic nightmares and ate household objects.’ […]

Mary had been gone for six years this October, and Vi Caldwell was one of the women who tried to fill the breach. ‘I was practically a mother to Paul,’ she said without boasting. She made him food and drink, took his stage-soaked shirts and washed and ironed them, and shared easy intimacies. ‘Paul used to like her combing his legs,’ Iris says. ‘He had really hairy legs and he’d come in from the Cavern all tired, roll up his trousers and she used to comb his legs. How ridiculous can you get? But he adored my mum and my mum adored him.’

Vi recalls: ‘Paul was very temperamental. He would come on occasions and would be terrifically friendly and down-to-earth, and on other occasions he would come and be rather aloof and we wondered if we had offended him, as if he was thinking ‘I’m being too friendly so I’ll keep you in your place.’ That was our impression.’

THRILLING IN A DIFFERENT WAY

[Paul] was without the others, but with Celia Mortimer…and a new song. It was Tuesday/Wednesday 23/24 October [1962], the Beatles’ sole two-day break of the year, and Paul decided to leave his car at home and have an adventure: he and Celia hitch-hiked to London to see Ivan Vaughan. Paul loved hitching: he enjoyed chatting to strangers and seeing himself in an observational role, but he’d only done it with George or John, never with a girl. Celia—intelligent, chic, a pretty redhead—made it thrilling in a different way. And it was to see the brilliant Ivy, his Institute mate and John’s boyhood pal. […]

The new song was I Saw Her Standing There, though it had no title as yet. Its melody and structure skidded into Paul’s head late on Monday as he drove back from a Nems Enterprises Showdance in Widness. This was a sophistication of delivery had never experienced, inspiration so excitingly hot that when he got to Hurricaneville he grabbed an acoustic guitar and started working it out. […] It was truly a magical moment for Rory Storm, who’d never seen anyone write a song before. Vi and Iris would always maintain that he asked Paul if he could have it, exclusively, and Paul said yes—but as Rory didn’t have a record contract it’s unclear why he asked and Paul may have said yes only to regain some necessary peace and quiet.

Celia: ‘We had an amazing time, just wandering the streets in the sunshine, looking at London, holding hands and having fun, and Paul had the melody of what became I Saw Her Standing There going round his head all day, humming and singing it and fleshing out the words. […] He said, ‘What rhymes with “We danced through the night?” and I came up with ‘We held each other tight’, which was really quite naff, but he used it.’ BACK TO McCARTNEY-LENNON

However, the song was completed only when he had a front parlour session with John at 20Forthlin Road. They tried out little bits on Jim Macs Nems piano but mostly used guitars, working ‘eyeball to eyeball’ just like when they’d first written together here as schoolboys. Mike took photographs of them sitting by the little tiled fireplace—important historic images, the only such photos ever taken—so here we see these two sharp ambitious tuned-in young man looking down at an old Liverpool Institute exercise book in which Paul has written the words, complete with plenty of crossings-out. John is wearing his black horn-rim glasses and playing his Jumbo Gibson, Paul is playing a cheap Spanish acoustic of unknown history. Another original, a McCartney-Lennon one, is taking shape right here, right now. BIG PLAYER CELIA AND THE OTHER McCARTNEY BOY

Celia Mortimer’s relationship with Paul ended in the last weeks of 1962. ‘As the Beatles spent more time in London, Paul was there and not in Liverpool so much, and our situation just fizzled out. There was no time for it.’ She went on to become a big player on the London fashion scene, with her own label and studio on Great Portland Street, just a long from where she spent a few hours with Paul in 1962. In between times, she went out for a long time with Mike McCartney and was part of the Liverpool poetry scene.

Mike (a Ladies’ hairdresser at the time): MY FIRST LOVE AND BOB 'FOLK RUBBISH' DYLAN (from The Macs, 1981)

One day my first real love, after mum, walked into the salon; she was one of a group of models posing for the Daily Post and Echo. I was brushing up the hair as it cascaded endlessly down on to the floor. I wasn't exactly the brushing up which excited her, it was the way I did it (isn't it always?). The brush was balanced, she later recalled, on the end of my index finger, the furthest point from my body and, with absolute disdain, I followed it across the shop floor.

Not being a Post and Echo model at all, but in truth a hungry student plying her body for money, she returned for the free evening classes where she became my model, and I discovered that her name was Celia. From a model customer she became a model model, and from a model model we became a model couple.

She was the first woman I gave myself to, and she gave herself in return. In her Husky Street flat we got lost in each other's body and mind; we swam together through many Liverpool 8 late nights and often into the morning, when she would get up to cook breakfast and put on records. I would just lie there, male chauv-like. One morning she kept playing a particular album which didn't impress me.

'Who's that Ceel?'

'Someone they keep playing at college . . . Bob Dylan.'

'Never heard of him.'

'Neither had I, but after a while he's quite good.'

"Ceel—my first real love (after Mum)." Photo by Mike McCartney.

[zilabee]

Zilabee i love your blog very much, every time you post I get incredibly excited you're so knowledgable about those four randy scouse gits, but I'm trying to get into the book side of the Beatles and I know there are many posts out there to help with that, but I want to know personally, what do you think are the best Beatles books? Not by popularity or the best author, what are your favourite Beatles books you would recommend to people to read? I know you're a Paul girl (which aren't we all at heart? cause even if he isn't your fave he's your faves fave, so by association we're all Paul girls), but please don't worry about favouritism again this is an ask of your fave Beatles books

anon! thank you for nice words; apologies for being so slow

it's hard to recommend people things, I'm not deeply inside the capability of it, and most beatles books, like the beatles themselves, are basically awful

the books on my beatles shelf that I feel most fondly towards aren't about beatles, they're about Tara Browne and Robert Fraser

i want desperately to recommend the books by Maureen Cleave and Iris Caldwell but they never wrote them so I can't, so don't read those

i really like dakota days by john green. that's probably embarrassing to be the first book I can think of that I like but there we go. I think I went in with very low expectations, so that probably helped and I've ruined that for you by saying it's good. it's about john with yoko, not all the beatles, and as with all john books, the author is very 'actually I knew John well, I really got him...' which is what all men do, but then instead of 'we shared this amazing connection! he TRULY LOVED ME!!' he's more 'he was just really fucked up and desperate to be loved' which is not what most men do, so I liked that. Also he storifies it all, which keeps you a bit detached from how heartbreakingly sad it all is if it's remotely true.

i loved the longest cocktail party by richard delillo. I thought it captured apple beautifully, and it's very much of it's time, which is also the beatles's time, so it's very much of the beatles even if they're not often there. it was written in 1970 and it does cover the total death of all happiness, but obviously only from a very close perspective, and he'd left by then and everyone disappeared, so instead of pretending to know things he doesn't, he just drifts into newspaper headlines and reports, and it works really well for a person like me who finds the endings very difficult

i think one of the very first beatles books I read was here, there, and everywhere, by geoff emerick and I have a lot of remembering it being good while now not really remembering it, but i do like books by people who were actually trying to work while the beatles were around, rather than trying to wank all over them, because there is a suitable level of frustration with them, which makes it all feel a bit more bearable. you do have to put up with how much he hates george, but we have to put up with a lot of things

as time goes by, by derek taylor, is very good if you don't mind that derek taylor is living his life in inverted commas and I'm only recommending you books about the terrible aching sadness of the end, sorry. I love the way it's written though, I love the way it's felt, I love how much he hates Paul in 1968... but then as he says, many of the people he likes most are absolutely terrible, and he means brian, but it's true of all of them and I just really like that he feels it

everyone recommends it I know it's not new, but michael braun wrote the beatles's progress and that is very good and earlier and brighter than a lot of what I've mentioned. and it's short! which I think is important in beatles books too, because it means people aren't trying to fill pages. apart from the cocktail party all of these are quite short.

actually that's probably my main advice when you're trying to decide to read beatles books:

pick short ones to start with

pick ones written by people who worked with/for them

pick your favourite era and start there

and you don't have to care whether it's 'trusted' or 'reliable' or whatever, care about whether you enjoy it, and then pick over the bones of the biases later

i have read some of the big full biographies, but they're kind of boring, trying to tell you everything when they don't actually know anything and they weren't there. tumblr's better for that. also they sort of pretend not to have an opinion, which is both a lie and a boredom, because opinions are the best thing. books by people who knew them DEFINITELY have opinions and you get to judge them.

I liked pete best's book more than I thought I would, I just read it the other week. I can't remember a lot about alistair taylor's book now, but I remember enjoying it, specially to get more sense of brian, and brian's autobiography is written by derek taylor so it snips along. either of george martin's books is nice and quick. chris salewicz wrote the best biography of paul mccartney and it fits in your pocket. cynthia and may are both good.