Ringo bustled around their little kitchen, opening cupboards, looking for something to make for tea. I admired his fine head of lush, dark hair, but I wondered where the grey bits had gone, especially that grey patch at the front he has had all his life. Dyed it out, he said, just as for years he dyed out all the white bits in his beard. That’s what had really made him shave it off. He could have lived with a pepper and salt beard, but huge white patches were appearing and he was fed up having to dye them. He pulled back his hair to prove it was all genuine, no bald patches, not even any receding bits at the edges. ‘Not like some people I could mention,’ he said. ‘How old are you now, Hunt, hmm?’
He looked fitter and healthier than he did in 1968, despite a slight thickening of the waistline and the suspicion of a heavy jowl. Most of all, he was decidedly happier and chirpier. In 1968, when I used to go and visit him, he often seemed so edgy, prowling around, constantly on edge, as if bugged by something, or worried about the future, either his marriage or his future life with the Beatles.
Barbara finished talking on the telephone and came into the kitchen to see what he was making for tea. She felt his chin, another check on its smoothness. She had never in her life seen him clean-shaven, at least not close up.
‘I did see Ringo first in 1966. I took my younger sister to the Beatles’ Shea Stadium concert. I was about 19 at the time. My sister had a Beatles wig and was a real Beatles fan. I wasn’t really interested. All I can remember about their performance was that it was rather short — and rather loud.’
When they first met in 1980, during the filming of Caveman, Ringo says he fell in love with her from the moment he saw her getting off the aeroplane.
‘She gave me a hard time for two months, just picking on me. Oh, I don’t know, little things. I threw a party for St Valentine’s day and she kept on saying but what is the point of the party, what are you doing it for? She kept on cross-examining me. Either that or she ignored me.
‘When we decided to get married, I said come on then, where do you want to live?’ ‘I wanted to go back to Europe,’ said Barbara. ‘But Ritchie can only speak English, so that meant England.’
‘I wanted to go to England as well. It’s the least police state I know. I feel secure here. I have no bodyguards at all. I feel so English. Not British. Just English. It’s the fish and chips.’
Ringo eventually found a tin of salmon in one of the kitchen cupboards and was opening it, pouring on some vinegar to give extra taste, then he mixed it all up and dished out three bowls. Not smoked salmon, I said? I thought you superstars lived on smoked salmon.
‘I’ll tell you something about that smoked salmon stuff,’ he said, putting on a strong Liverpool voice. ‘They don’t cook it…
‘I remember the very first time I had it. It was when Brian brought us to London and he insisted that we all tasted smoked salmon for the first time in our lives. We never had it in the Dingle. It was Brian’s treat. We all went ugh, awful. I quite like it really.’
All the same, judging by Ringo’s tea, and by meals I have had at other Beatle homes, none of them can exactly be described as foodies, though Ringo at home likes to think he at least does his bit, making the breakfast on Sunday morning for himself and Barbara.
I asked her about her Playboy appearance. Had it been, er, on the centrefold?
‘It was on the cover, do you mind,’ she said.
‘She’s still hoping to make the centrefold,’ said Ringo. ‘When she’s 50. That will be in a year’s time.’
‘He lies all the time about my age.’
‘Well you work it out, Hunt. She’s 29, and she’s got a kid of 31. You went to school.’
‘It’s a few years yet till I’m 50,’ said Barbara.
‘I can’t wait. They’re all the fashion, women of 50. When she gets to 50, she’ll be the Joan Collins of Ascot… oh, no, stop it…’
Barbara had grabbed him and was hitting him with a tea towel. Oh, these marital scenes. So I made an excuse and left the kitchen and wandered round the office, admiring his decorations. On one wall was a huge photograph of John and Paul, a snap taken by Ringo and blown up. They each had lots of side whiskers and longish hair. In the foreground I could just see the top of Martha’s back. It was taken in Cavendish Terrace, around 1968. Ringo was a budding photographer in those days and he took four of the photographs that appear in the fourth plate section. I remember he was pleased with the ones he took of John and Cyn, Paul and Jane, George and Pattie, but always hated the one of himself and his family. He made a mess of it, using an automatic button and having to rush back into his place after he had set the camera.
On a wall was a printed notice. ‘The trouble with always keeping both feet firmly on the ground is that you can never take your pants off.’
Ringo is still keen on gadgets and jokey things. His main home is filled with all the latest TV and hi-fi equipment, and he still has five motor cars, including his special Pullman Mercedes, which has three rows of seats and is just two inches shorter than a London bus.
‘In 1965, I sold all my five cars. It was ridiculous. You can only ride in one at a time. But then I started buying cars again. So I’m back to five. No, we’ve got six. I’ve forgotten Barb’s Jaguar.’
He is the least affluent of the remaining Beatles, at least in terms of income, but he says he has no money problems. ‘I’m mad on spending. I do it all the time. But it doesn’t matter how much I spend, I won’t run out of money in my lifetime.’
Nothing really new or creative has happened to Ringo since the split, not in an artistic or business sense. The single most amazing event in his life, which was being asked to join the Beatles, is not likely to be repeated. He has a market garden, employing ten people, adjoining his country estate. ‘I walk round pointing at daffodils, saying that’s daffodils, but I don’t know anything.’ He has also invested in a Liverpool cable TV firm and various other smallish enterprises.
As for his musical career, he produced some nice singalong albums and singles after the Beatles split, avoiding the temptation to be too clever, but his recording career appears to have come to an end for the moment. His latest album, Old Wave, came out in 1984, but only in Canada. It was turned down in both Britain and the USA, the first musical failure for any of the Beatles.
‘How do you think I felt? I was furious. I go round saying it’s now very big in Afghanistan or wherever, oh yeh, Canada, I keep forgetting, but I was very disappointed. I liked the album. I thought it was the best I’d done. I called it Old Wave as a joke, as opposed to “New Wave”. I suppose I am the old wave generation now. A bloke in LA did want to see me recently about releasing in the States, but he cancelled when his mum fell ill.’
Unlike Paul, Ringo does not seem to need adulation as a musician, and he didn’t seem too depressed that his singing and drumming career has come to a halt. ‘I think Paul does love it still. I’ve heard the applause. It was very loud, but I’ve heard it, and I don’t think I want it now. One day the clapping has to stop.’
He was now putting on his Lawrence Olivier voice. As an actor, he has done surprisingly well. At least, he is still constantly in business, being offered parts, 15 years after the Beatles finished, which has surprised many people. After all these years, he has proved he can do it, on his own, not just on his fame as an ex-Beatle. ‘I like acting. It’s because I’m a show-off.’