‘As Beatles, we’ve gone through millions of superficial changes, which mean nothing and haven’t changed us,’ says Paul.
‘It’s like in posh places, you get to like avocado and spinach and other way-out foods, so you have them every time. You learn about wine and that’s the scene for a while. When you’ve done all that, then you can go back. You realize the waiter’s just there to ask you what you want, not what anyone expects you to want. So if you feel like cornflakes for lunch, you ask for them, without feeling like a Northern comedian.
‘These sort of cycles are coming and going all the time. Like the moustache. I had one to amaze people, as a fun thing. I had all the fun, then one day took it off. Now I’m back to where I was. Like food, I got through it and realized what it was and came back.
‘It’s like meeting famous stars. You go through the being amazed stage when you first meet them, then find out he’s just like Harry Bloggs. You knew all the time he was just Harry Bloggs, but you had to go through with it to find out.
‘We always come back to ourselves because we never change. We might be A plus One, when One equals grey suits. That would be the grey suit cycle. Then A plus Two, when it’s floral shirts. But we’re always there all the time as A. Then you finish up A plus Dead. Excuse all the clever stuff. I just get carried away talking.
‘But all the changes, you see, the physical ones, are superficial. You go into a cycle, but you don’t get carried away for ever by it, because the more you know, the less you know. And there’s always each other as safety valves.
‘The thing is, we’re all really the same person. We’re just four parts of the one. We’re individuals, but we make up together The Mates, which is one person. If one of us, one side of the mates, leans over one way we all go with him or we pull him back. We all add something different to the whole.
‘Ringo — he’s got a great sentimental thing. He likes soul music and always has, though we didn’t see that scene for a long time, till he showed us. I suppose that’s why we write those sort of songs for him, with sentimental things in them, like “A Little Help from My Friends”.
‘George — he’s very definite about things and dedicated when he’s decided. It makes the four of us more definite about things, just because of George. We adapt what’s in him to our own use. We all take out of each of us what we want or need.
‘John — he’s got movement. He’s a very fast mover. He sees new things happening and he’s away.
‘Me — I’m conservative. I feel I need to check things. I was last to try pot and LSD and floral clothes. I’m slower than John, the least likely to succeed in class.
‘When a new Fender guitar came along, John and George would rush out and buy one. John because it was new and George because he’d decided definitely he’d wanted one. Me. I’d hang around thinking, check I had the money, then wait a bit.
‘I’m just the conservative of the four of us. Not compared with outside people. Compared to my family I’m a freak-out.
‘We still have the same basic roles, because that’s what we are. But all of us will always appear to be changing, just because we don’t conform. It’s this not conforming, wanting to do something different all the time, that keeps our music different.
‘The last generation worked all the time to attain a status in life, get certain clothes and a certain pigeonhole and that was it. We were lucky that by the age of 25 we realized we could achieve any pigeonhole we fancied. I could now sit back and be a company director till I’m 70, but I wouldn’t learn as much as I would by trying new things. You can learn as much about life just by ploughing one furrow all the time, but it tends to make you narrow-minded.
‘We’ve always not conformed. People told us we needed to channel ourselves, but we never believed them. People said we had to wear the school blazer. If you’ve enough confidence, you don’t have to wear a school blazer through life, as so many people think you have to.
‘We’re not learning to be architects, or painters or writers. We’re learning to be. That’s all.’
33 george
George has a very long, low, single-storeyed, brightly painted bungalow at Esher. It’s on a private estate, owned by the National Trust, very similar to the estate where John and Ringo live. You enter the estate through a gateway from the main road, then pass into what looks like the wooded gardens of a stately home. You can’t see any houses at first. They are hidden from the roadway, all very secluded and lush looking. They’re named, not numbered, so it’s impossible to find any of them. George’s is the hardest to find. The name of his house, Kinfauns, is not even on his house or in his garden. The driveway to it looks at first to be part of another house.
The bungalow has two wings to it, which enclose a rectangular courtyard at the back. In this he has a heated swimming pool. All the outside walls of the house have been painted by George, or at least sprayed, in bright luminous-looking colours. From his gardens, the house looks like a psychedelic mirage.
Inside, the kitchen area is beautifully done with lots of pinewood furniture and walls and Habitat-type utensils. It looks as if it’s straight out of a colour supplement guide to a 1968 kitchen. The main living room has two huge windows, completely circular. They start at floor level and go up to the ceiling.
He has no Beatle gold discs or souvenirs in sight. The house might belong to a very contemporary young architect or fashion designer who has spent some time in the East. In the centre of the living room are some very low tables. There are cushions on the floor beside them, for sitting on, Arab fashion. There are no chairs anywhere in sight.
There is an ornate hookah beside one table. George was sitting on the floor, cross-legged, putting new strings on his sitar. He was wearing a long white Indian shirt. A joss stick was burning in an ornamental holder on the table, filling the room with a sweet smell of incense.
‘I don’t personally enjoy being a Beatle any more. All that sort of Beatle thing is trivial and unimportant. I’m fed up with all this me, us, I, stuff and all the meaningless things we do. I’m trying to work out solutions to the more important things in life.
‘Thinking about being a Beatle is going backwards. I’m more concerned with the future, but it would take six months of just talking to tell you exactly what I believe in — all the Hindu theories, the Eastern philosophies, reincarnation, transcendental meditation. It’s when you begin to understand those things that you realize how pointless the other stuff is. To the ordinary believer in God, I know it sounds very far-out.’
The telephone rang. George picked it up. There was a muffled giggling noise. ‘Esher wine store,’ said George, gruffly and impatiently. ‘No, sorry.’ And he hung up.
In the kitchen, Pattie and her sister Jennie, who had just dropped in, were embroidering. They were both wearing Eastern Apple Boutique clothes. They sat half smiling, very quietly and solemnly, working away at their embroidery. The noise of George beginning his sitar lessons next door could be heard. The setting was somehow medieval.
Pattie has the least help in the house of any of the wives, though when she has children she will doubtless have more help. They have a housekeeper, Margaret. She usually has most meals with them, as part of the family.
Margaret does most of the cleaning and Pattie does all the cooking. Pattie usually dries all the dishes and also helps to tidy up. ‘It’s not as big a house as it looks. It’s so full of junk. If I had any more staff to help, they would just be more bother than their worth.’