Paul signing, 22nd Nov. :)
I am back. Sorry I haven't had a chance to write yet, but all the times I started typing I literally fell asleep straight away over the keyboard, jerking awake an hour later like 'bzuh?' So it was off to bed for me. SO TIRED.
Anyway. Wednesday night, when I got back, I was exhausted, aching, hungry and just generally worn out, but I shall never be able to stop myself from smiling when I think of that day.
Here be the full details. Possibly too many. I am very long-winded.
So. About ten days ago, I got an e-mail advising me of this:
Haha, I thought. Hahaha. I should go. Thinking about my adventures at the Green Wing signing (I know, not even close to the same scale, but still), I thought and thought for days about it. I really did have a hard time deciding, until I told myself I might never get a chance like this again, and finally one night last week at about midnight I went on and booked a flight and a hotel. ...Couldn't quite believe I'd done it, to be honest. I decided to keep it reasonably quiet, as I felt - I don't know, that it might jinx it if I went and told everyone.
After that I kept an eye on the paulmccartney.com forums to see when people were planning on turning up to join the queue, and eventually formulated a plan based on this information. The Plan was to go to sleep in the hotel between 6 and 8pm Tuesday (I'd be arriving in London around lunchtime), get up about 3 or 4am, and join the queue about 5am. That was 3 or 4 hours before the store opened. That would be plenty of time, I thought, surely. It looked like other people were planning to turn up at about the same sort of time, so I went with that. 4am! Haha. How nuts! Oh, if only she knew what was to come, you all giggle into your popcorn.
It was in my head that going to London, queueing etc didn't guarantee me meeting Paul, so I tried not to get my hopes up too much, though I couldn't stop myself from thinking about what I'd say to him if I did meet him. The main reason I wanted to meet him was to thank him for everything he's given me (and, y'know, the world, but it might sound a bit mad to go up and say "on behalf of the world..."), so I was trying to come up with something along those lines. I have quite a vivid imagination about these things, though, and every time I tried to imagine me actually standing in front of the actual Paul and actually saying words, my insides would shrivel in terror.
So anyway. Booked Monday to Wednesday off work (Monday being that all important grooming/shopping/packing day). Monday night, as usual before I travel, I got no sleep - well, I lie. Two hours. Pfft. Flight and travel went fine and I arrived in London around 12.30pm Tuesday.
I headed straight to Piccadilly as my hotel was right across the street from the Virgin Megastore, and I thought as I was passing I would see if there was a queue, just out of interest. The store backs into the tube station, so I went in the back way and got a bit lost, finally finding the front doors and heading out onto the street. To my astonishment, there were people queued already! They looked like they'd been there ages, with airbeds, rugs, space blankets, sleeping bags, pillows, the full works. The queue was already round the corner and a little bit down the street.
I checked into the hotel and sat on my bed, angsting. Really, by the looks of things, I should join the queue ASAP. I totted up in my head how many hours this would be in the queue and realised I'd need, at at the very least, a blanket or two. I was exhausted and had really hoped to get a few hours sleep before joining the queue. But, if I waited and missed out, would I be kicking myself forever?
So after girding my loins I set straight off and walked back into Tottenham Court Road, where the queue was, and quickly went round the shops to try and find a sleeping bag or something. And could I find anything suitable? No. (For the record, I didn't know that the huge Lillywhites shop was a sports shop at the time. We don't have one at home. So - yeah. I found out later, as you will see.)
Eventually I found a Scottish woollen goods shop which had rugs on sale, so I bought a huge wool blanket from there for fifteen quid. I then went into Boots and bought TONS of food, including loads of Diet Coke and snacks/sandwiches/chocolates. After that I headed back to the hotel for what I believed would be the last time, and showered, changed (into what I would actually wear to meet Paul were such a thing to happen), did my hair and make-up, etc. Then I packed up, grabbed my lone rug and food and headed over.
The queue was slightly longer than when I had last passed it, but not by much. I got in behind a bunch of guys, next to a little doorway alcove. Brilliant, I thought, this will keep me warm.
The guys didn't really talk to me, but soon two ladies joined the queue and after a little while we ended up chatting away. We ended up being big queue buddies and, I hope, friends thereafter. Coincidentally they were staying in the same hotel! And they'd had exactly the same plan, to start queueing after midnight and get some sleep before then, but like me they'd seen the queue and decided to join straight away.
A little later their friends (Maureen and Elena) came and joined them, and behind them two guys (Larry and Adrian) and a lady who'd come up from Portsmouth at the last minute and totally unprepared, leaving her husband a note! We all got chatting and Larry told us how he'd come to the signing at Waterstones but hadn't realised the queue had gone round a corner so had left and come back later, and missed out! Adrian had had the same plan as us, but had spotted the queue and also joined early. It seemed that was the case with everyone!
The two ladies who'd joined the queue behind me (Carole and Lynda) told me to go and give my name to a lady up the front who was making a list, ostentibly to prevent pushing in, so I went up and was no. 71. Carole and Lynda were 64 and 65, but they knew I was in front of them, and 71 was a pretty good number, so whatever. The only concern we had was that the list was not official in any way, but stil, 60-70 was a great number and looked very likely to get to meet Paul, so I was quite excited.
A woman from the office we were queueing in front of came out and told us not to stand in their doorway, so we shuffled down a bit to the other side of their office, hoping that once the office closed up for the night we could move into the doorway, to have some shelter from the cold.
And then - we played the waiting game.
Luckily, we were camped about 5 yards away from a Starbucks (\o/), so I went and got a peppermint mocha almost straight away. Unfortunately, it was so cold out it went cold very quickly. Also unfortunately, the Starbucks closed at 7.30 so their would be no coffee into the night, unless we fancied a bit of a walk.
Soon enough it started to get dark, and my feet began to ache. We noticed that quite a lot of people further up the queue had folding chairs - all identical, with England flags on them (presumably made for the World Cup). After a while one of our party went off to ask them where they were from and they told us Lillywhites (which is practically across the street)!
Carole and Lynda had gone back to the hotel to use the loo and such, so myself and the lady from Portsmouth headed across to buy chairs while the others watched our stuff. On the way she told me she'd been very ill recently, and was queueing when she really shouldn't be. Which was a little worrying. :/
We found the chairs eventually, all neatly folded in bags saying "ENGLAND CHAIR" on. They were half price, too, so that was a plus. We also bumped into Carole and Lynda in the store, who were the next 'shift' to come and get chairs. When we all got back, Adrian and Elena went. All good fun. :)
We were starting to form quite a tightly-knit little group, and once the office had shut and we'd OKed it with the night watchman we set up our chairs in a little circle outside the door, with Adrian, the lady from Portsmouth (damn, I can't remember her name!) and Larry behind us. Larry was off taking loads of photos, as he's a photographer. We looked like a huge mob of England fans camping out for something in our matching chairs. XD
Behind our group some young lads joined, already drunk and each waving a bottle of wine. One way to keep out the cold, I suppose. We half expected them to be a bit obnoxious but they were actually really good fun. :)
It soon began to get bitterly cold, and I pulled out my scarf and gloves. I'd checked the weather report before I'd come and while it was supposed to be dry (thank god), it was also supposed to be the coldest night of the year so far. Great. The rug followed soon after, but unfortunately, one thing I hadn't even considered was what the rug would do to my coat. My coat is black wool, and the rug was light wool, and soon what I like to call the 'Cat Hair Effect' took place, whereby my coat was instantly covered with a coating of pale lint. It looked ridiculous. By this point, I was past caring because I was so damn cold. At one point another trip to Lillywhites was made by some of the others to buy sleeping bags, but I felt I'd already bought my chair and blanket and couldn't really buy more stuff - I really wish I had, though.
It got colder and colder and I started to shiver. I couldn't feel my toes inside my boots any more and was convinced that when I took my shoes off my toes would come with them. (Ew.) I even took off my boots, added my bedsocks and put the boots back on, and it still didn't help. I even had to resort to my fugly wooly hat, which did help a little, but not much.
The night dragged on, and countless buses and taxis thundered past us. We were actually right next to a bus stop, so every time a bus pulled in (approximately every 30 seconds), everyone on it would turn and stare. The people getting off would regularly come over and ask what we were doing/waiting for. I must have said "Paul McCartney" about 30 times. Reactions ranged from "oh, OK," to "oh my God, why??" to "you're crazy!" to "I think it's a beautiful thing you're all doing." (And thank you for that last one, anonymous stranger.)
But we soon got bored, so the next time someone asked, Elena said "Michael Jackson," with a completely straight face. And the guy believed her that all these people were queueing for Michael Jackson's new album. Bwaha! At one point we also told people David Hasselhoff, and I decided to tell the next person that asked I was waiting for a Nintendo Wii (despite them not coming out for another 3 weeks). Some people formed this conclusion on their own, as I heard one guy say to his friend "...what some people will do for a PlayStation 3" as he walked past.
One other guy told us we looked like the biggest homeless protest ever seen.
At around nine o clock, we all started to get damn hungry, as none of us had had any dinner and most hadn't had lunch, either. (I hadn't even had breakfast.) So Adrian, Larry and the lady said they'd watch our chairs/rugs etc while we went across the street to Garfunkel's to get a hot meal. By this point I felt almost frozen solid and so was ecstatic to be getting in the warm.
We are warm! Yay! L-R: Me, Carole, Elena, Lynda, Maureen.
We had a really fun meal and Lynda, Maureen and Carole were telling us all these amazing stories. It turns out they were Apple Scruffs, back in the day! No, really. Elena wasn't old enough to have been so and obviously neither am I, so we were enthralled, even though she'd heard the stories before. All sorts of stories about meeting the group back in the day, sneaking into Abbey Road Studios, getting lifts in their cars when they weren't supposed to, crying and chatting with Paul outside his house the night before he married Linda (he opened his door to see them all crying and said "what's this, heartbreak hotel?", before fetching a jumper from his house and coming down to the gate to talk to them), being invited into the studio to listen to Magical Mystery Tour being edited, following John and Paul to the airport when they were off to New York to promote Apple and J&P being Not Best Pleased, travelling in John's psychedelic Rolls Royce, being arrested by Paul's neighbour (Maureen waving out of the back of the police car), playing pranks on Paul, and all sorts! Absolutely amazing. Elena and I said they should write a book or make a movie or something.
The meal was nice, I had pasta and chicken, and being in the warm was wonderful. I didn't want to go back outside, but we had to, so about an hour later we donned hats/coats/scarves/gloves again and headed back over, so the boys and the lady could go and get food. Adrian kindly brought back Burger King for himself and the lady, while Larry went off to get Chinese.
Now we'd been inside in the warm it was even more torturous sitting out in the cold. It was late now, about 11pm, and we were starting to get people who were out for the evening walking past. There was one group of girls who were all giggly and tipsy, they looked about 16, and they all came up and were asking us about it - they thought it was very cool and were quite sweet and mad.
I was getting even colder than I had been earlier, and tried to drape my rug in new and exciting ways to keep as much of me covered as possible. I took a few photos around this time, too.
That's the door of the office we were outside of. So cold omf.
I'M TOO SEXY FOR MY HAT.
Seriously, I know I look like a wanker in it but it did help me feel a teeny bit warmer.
Around this time the security from Virgin started handing out numbered tickets to those queueing. This was an excellent idea, as this would be the order they'd be letting us in in the next morning. Obviously some people had joined their friends in the queue since the afternoon, with the result that I was now number 84. But that was my official number now, and would remain so, and I was quite happy because that's my year of birth. :)
So we were chuffed with them for doing that, as it saved a lot of grief the next day. We carried on chatting and, in my case, trying not to die from hypothermia.
The hours ticked by, and we decided to go back to the hotel in shifts, to use the loo, freshen up, whatever. Two would go for an hour or so, then come back, and then the next two, and so on.
I seemed to be suffering with the cold the worst, probably because I was stupid and didn't have a sleeping bag, and finally aorund 2am, reached my breaking point. I was almost passing out from cold and tiredness, so when Elena and Maureen headed back to the hotel for a bit I went with them, and told them I would try and get my head down for two hours or so. We exchanged phone numbers so Maureen could ring me at 4 to get me up.
I fell into the room, which was warm and had a heater and nearly cried with joy. My getting made up had clearly been highly pointless, but I took off my top I'd chosen to see Paul in and put on the t-shirt I'd brought to sleep in. I fell into the bed and slept for two hours. When Maureen rang, she suggested I have another hour, as it was only 4am, and I gladly agreed.
At about 5.10 I dragged myself reluctantly out of the warm bed and, shivering, got dressed again. While I was asleep my makeup had all moved approximately half an inch down my face, so I reapplied and sorted it, and redid my hair. I donned the ridiculously linty coat and the scarf/gloves etc - I had even put all four of the socks I was wearing on the radiator for a bit before putting them on - and headed back out.
When I arrived they told me the lady from Portsmouth had gone! Apparently her ill health had caught up with her and she'd started to feel really bad, so she'd just jumped in a taxi and left. Shame, to have queued for all that time too. And she'd seemed OK when I left, quite lively - in fact, at one point she was holding forth, loudly, on how John Lennon had been very obviously gay. "He was a poofter!" she screeched. "Gay as a donkey!"
Not an expression I'd heard before, I must admit.
We were all smirking but hiding our faces by this point, in a display of "Look, We're Not With Her". It was hilarious. It just came out of nowhere! "He was always on Brian Epstein's yacht!!"
Dead God, I hope that's not a euphemism.
It was hilarious, anyway, if not slightly bizarre. And weirdly, some drunk guy had wandered past earlier and shouted "who's coming? Gay Paul?" It was so In And Out. "Is everybody gay??"
While I was no longer as tired, it was now even colder than before and I was shivering within all of 10 seconds after settling back into my chair. The rug and my hat, which I'd left out, felt like they'd been stored in a fridge as I put them back on. Oh, well. SHIIIIVERRRRRRRRRR.
It was around 5.45 by this point and after a while it started to get light. We'd made it through the night!
(In case I haven't quite impressed it upon you, I have never been colder in my entire life. And while I did get 3 hours sleep in a warm room, that still left 13 outside, so - yeah. Brrrrrrrr.)
Anyway, we sat around for another two hours, when the people who'd been coming home from work the day before were now going back to work and saw us still sitting there. Soon enough the security staff came to tell us to start packing up. The guys next to us had constructed a sort of tiny shanty town out of boxes and tape, so they started dismantling it. We had boxes too, whch had been given to us by the kind security staff in the office we were otuside (and Larry had gone to find some too). Putting them on the ground stopped our feet from getting so cold as it insulated them - an old market trader's trick, apparently.
So we folded up the chairs and sleeping bags and rugs and boxes and collected all our rubbish, and it became clear what they were trying to do was get the queue all stood and compressed, as we were all spread out. One girl, passing before Starbucks had opened, asked the guys next to us "why are you all queueing for Starbucks?" "We REALLY WANT COFFEE," they replied. "WE'VE BEEN HERE 12 HOURS." She looked a bit stunned and wandered off.
Soon the queue was much shorter as everyone had been moved down, and we were a bit warmer now we were (sort of) moving. The press arrived and started to take pictures of the queue at around 7.45, and just after 8 they opened the store and started letting people in to buy the CD and DVD.
By this point, our group were all firm friends, and we were chatitng away. I started chatting with Adrian, who was really funny. We decided to dump our England chairs, as I couldn't really take mine on the plane and he coouldn't carry his around London all day, so we left them propped against the wall with about 5 others. We also had a laugh at Larry's gloves - he'd just found them around places and kept them, and one was a huge, brown leather boxing-glove-style mitten (which he says he found and it was a bit battered so he put leather polish on it), and the other was a navy blue, fluffy-edged, ladies' glove. We were in stitches when we noticed them.
Soon enough it was our turn to go in - we were let in in groups of about 8 or so, and were processed really quickly at the tills. You'd ask for 'one of each' or just one or two of one or whatever you wanted, but you could only buy those two items. (Well, you could also buy 'Love' as it was next to the till - they obviously realised they had a captive audience - but you couldn't get it signed.)
Once you'd bought your things you were given a little slip of paper with instructions on as to what would be happening and The Rules, which said by having a blue wristband you were in a 'priority' queue to meet Paul, i.e. he would definitely get through those and then start on the reserves (I think about nos. 200 upwards) if there was time/he felt like it/etc. Finally your shiny blue wristband was clipped on, and you were pointed up the stairs and guided to the queueing area. They were playing Paul's DVD loudly throughout the store.
Welcome banner.
The signing area - on the left, behind the glass, is the queueing area (this was taken from the top of the stairs).
Once we got into position we were ecstatic, because - it was real, we were in the store and had our wristbands and were in the first 100 people. We were allowed to leave the store briefly to find a toilet and so on, because there wasn't one in the shop, and once you had your wristband you could pretty much do as you liked, as long as you had someone to hold your place in the queue for you - they wouldn't do it for you.
Once we arrived we took some pictures of ourselves filled to the brim with girlish glee.
(That's Adrian on the right.)
(And one with Larry!)
Elena, Maureen and I decided to head back to the hotel to check out and dump our luggage. We did so, and I also re-did my make up and hair (yes, again), and left my linty coat with the bags. (Seeing as I would only be inside now, I no longer needed it, and it looked awful all covered in fluff.)
We finally headed back over and settled onto the floor to begin Queueing 2: Electric Boogaloo.
Truth be told, this was more uncomfortable than outside, because the floor was hard and we had nothing to sit on. There was also a mad draught coming in from somewhere, under the display cabinet. (We were camped out in World Music and Jazz.) This queue would be about 3.5 or 4 hours, though, compared to 16 outside, so, y'know. Not too bad.
The morning passed, and Adrian and I had a long, long chat about all things Beatles. He's been to all the Beatles sites in the UK (well, nearly all), and showed me the picture of the Woolton Church Hall on his camera. We talked about the new album, and the Concert for George (he and Elena were actually there, though they didn't know each other then, as they only met in the queue for this), and lots about John and Paul. It was so much fun to chat with a fellow massive fan with Beatles music playing, not something I get to do in RL - well, ever.
We also started getting the mad giggles, mainly out of nerves, and were practically hysterical. We were trying to think of things to say to Paul and the ideas just got madder and madder. "So. Was John gay as a donkey?" was one that was rejected early on. XD But it was such a laugh, and badly needed too, as I was starting to feel faint with nerves (and possibly hunger). I still wasn't sure what I'd say to Paul, but way back when I first decided I'd go, what had popped into my head was that I wanted to think him, and how much it would mean to thank him in person. So that was floating around my head.
At about 11.20 people started getting to their feet, and we followed suit, getting excited. The Vrgin staff all started appearing on our floor and the press started to arrive. Some people started milling about in the signing area and that got us all excited too. But Paul wasn't early, in fact, and the anticipation was torturous. For nearly an hour we stood there, looking around, as the atmosphere built and built and you could feel the excitement and nervousness in the air. Just as Adrian and I thought we might actually go insane from the tension, a few people started to clap and shout and - he was there!
There were quite a few screams, with teenage girls bouncing up and down and clutching each other, and I was all "dude. He's 64 and he's still doing that to young girls. I mean, that's something." He really is still The Cute One.
Paul came up the stairs and round through the classical section (I knew something would be happening in there, no one ever goes in there), and through a small curtain into the signing area. The press went mad, there were hundreds of flashes and calls - I'd never been anywhere that had had major press attention like that before, so it was an eye-opener. I couldn't see Paul, but had caught a glimpse of him through the crowd as he'd come up the stairs. Just like the concert I went to last year, it was totally surreal. His face is so familiar to me that it was quite a shock to see him really there in front of me, and so I didn't start leaping about and squeeing yet, as the sense of "oh - my - god..." ness washed over me. Heavy, man. He was wearing a dark suit, white shirt and tie, and looked happy to see everyone squealing and waving and smiling and clapping and that.
Soon after the queue began to move - and quickly! I applied my lippy and the queue began to shuffle forward. Oddly, now Paul was here and we'd actually seen him, an odd sense of calm had settled over us - we no longer felt hysterical or terrified - I can't even describe how I felt. Oddly relaxed and happy, rather than "ohmygodohmygodwhatdoIdoooo?"
The DVD was playing here too, quite loudly at first, and I wondered if I would have to shout "sorry, what? I can't hear you over yourself," to Paul. They turned it down soon after.
The Queue Nazis were keeping everyone in line, screaming in our ears, and it did begin to feel a bit like a military operation. The only point I got a bit irritated was when we had all squashed right down, and the woman was still bellowing "MOVE RIGHT UP, PLEASE! MOVE RIGHT UP!" in a really arsey tone. I was all "DUDE, WE ARE ALMOST ON TOP OF EACH OTHER DOWN HERE."
We were instructed to pull out our CD books and DVD inserts while queueing - Virgin's plan had been to remove all of your bags from you before you reached the signing area, put them in a box, and then give them back to you at the foot of the stairs. However, the queue was moving so quickly that they didn't have time to get the bags back down before the people were there, and the stairwell was full of people waiting for bags and blocking the exits. So they gave up and told us all to keep our bags, we just weren't allowed to get anything out of them. The DVD and CD you were holding were searched before you reached the signing area, in case you'd slipped a birthday card/other CD booklet/whatever in there. I was glad I'd dumped my bags at the hotel and just had my small handbag, other people had chairs/suitcases/sleeping bags and all sorts.
I was at the front of our group, and before I knew I was in the signing area. The security man asked me what the number on my ticket was, and I thought "oh god, does he want to see it?" because I thought it was in my bag back at the hotel. But he only wanted to know the number because Paul wanted to know how far through the line we were. So I told the man 84, and the girl in front of me turned and whispered "I'm 61,". Haha, oops.
At one point, as one guy grabbed his signed things and the next person hadn't stepped up yet, Paul sort of looked around the room and his eyes met mine for a second. I was so surprised I immediately looked away, hee. Adrian had told me I'd practically gone scarlet in the queue after Paul had arrived. Probably true. Flustered, and all that.
But yes, suddenly the girl in front of me was thanking Paul and stepping away, and there was no one in front of me. It was my turn to step up. By this point he had taken off his jacket and so was in a shirt and tie.
So I stepped up to the table, and Paul said hello, and I think I did, and put my CD booklet and DVD cover down. He signed the CD, and as he was doing so, looking down at it, I started talking, saying my little bit which I had only kind of rehearsed in my head. It seemed to come out reasonably easily once I was there, because it came from the heart. (You at the back, stop making vomit noises.)
But really, I probably should have waited for him to finish signing, because he was concentrating on writing and looking down and it was noisy, so he clearly didn't hear me. Once he'd finished the CD he looked up at me and said "what was that, darlin'?"
At which point I nearly died, but pushed the 'Paul McCartney is talking to meeeeeeeeeee" feelings down a bit and told him again, this time looking him straight in the eyes. He listened attentively and interestedly and really, I felt like there wasn't anyone else in the room. It was quite intense, talking to him and holding his gaze as I did so, but I said my little bit, and he made this little face which I can't really describe, but it was sort of a "n'aww," expression, if that makes any sense. It was very cute. He pulled over the DVD cover to sign that too and as he did so, said "thank you, for your kind words." Once he'd done that he smiled up at me once more and I smiled back and that was it! The next person (Lynda) stepped up, I grabbed my things and scarpered, Britain's Biggest Grin plastered across my face. It must have been all of 15 or 20 seconds, but still.
Someone asked me what colour his eyes were, as they look different colours in different photos, and to them I'd say - that's because they are. They're very big and all sorts of different shades of brown and green. As abromeds once said, even - dun dun dunnnn - kaleidoscope eyes?? :P
So, to answer that question - um. Hazel! Yes.
If you're wondering what Paul looked like at the signing, here are a couple of press pictures - I didn't get any and neither did my friends because it wasn't allowed, but you get the idea.
I'll post if any more nice ones turn up. :)
I bounded down the stairs and the lady stopped me to cut off my wristband. I was allowed to keep it, though. As I headed down I noticed a queue in a sort of holding area at the back - these must have been the 'reserve' wristbands they had handed out. I think they actually had time to get through those too, or at least some of them!
I got outside, and found myself at the side door at the top of Regent Street. Lots of people were congregated around there, many of whom had obviously tried to get in and not been able to. I got a few Looks. As I stood, I noticed it was just starting to rain, as I saw a few tiny drops on my DVD cover. I very quickly put it and the CD away in my bag, and noticed that as well as all the fans, there were a lot of press around. I stood, waiting for the others, when a lady from Virgin Radio came up and asked to interview me. Hee. :)
After that, a photographer from the Daily Mail asked if he could take my picture and do an interview, so he took a few pictures of me holding up the CD in the cheesiest way possible, I imagine, in front of the big poster. We then went to find the reporter, who was actually talking to the rest of my group! I also noticed Adrian being interviewed for BBC Radio 2 and the telly!
So all very exciting.
By the time the interviews were over it was starting to rain very heavily. This was at about 1.30, so if you think about it, we were about nos. 84-90, and we had all got through the queue and outside by half one, so Paul was getting through the queue quickly! And it hadn't felt rushed to me, really. Adrian had asked him a question about his most memorable gig, which took a bit longer, and he says he was gently moved along, but not unreasonably so.
So we went across the road to Garfunkel's again, for a celebratory lunch, as none of us had eaten yet that day. (My food from Boots had remained untouched, as it was too cold to eat it. Seriously.) We sat around, a bit dazed, and Lynda told us that Paul had remembered her and the others! "I could never forget you lot," he'd said to them. Bless!
So we were all sending texts to everyone we'd ever met, and Adrian rang his wife - he hadn't told her he'd camped out all night, haha, but she didn't seem to mind too much, and we all ordered some lunch and coffee. Now was the comedown, the adrenaline finally disappearing and being replaced with bone-tiredness but massive happiness.
Adrian left first, as he wanted to go off and see the Apple offices in Savile Row where the Rooftop Concert was held and find Brian Epstein's flat in Belgravia. I was quite tempted to come along, but I'm happy to do these things alone, and it seemed he was too, so we said goodbye there. I made sure to collect everybody's e-mail addresses first so I could send them the few, fairly crap, pictures I'd got, and we could keep in touch. Once we'd finished and paid we said goodbye outside and went our separate ways, and I headed straight onto the Tube and over to the Beatles Store - I'd hoped to get there the day before but obviously had had to start queueing straight away.
The rain stopped by the time I got there, and nothing could put a dent in my good mood, even though I was tired. It was also a bit warmer (probably because of the rain), so I didn't need my coat while running around. At the store I bought a great new bag, a J/P keyring, a matching glass and mug (with the 'Love, The Beatles' design from the drum in the I Am The Walrus video on), and a cute Sgt Pepper blue teddy. Showed considerable restraint, I thought. :)
Once I'd finished there I thought, well, I might as well start the end of this journey - I have nothing I especially want to do in London, I'm tired, I might as well get to the airport and chill out in the departures hall for a bit. So I headed back to the hotel and got my bags and sorted them, which was a mammoth task in itself - I ended up throwing a lot of the food out because one of the pasta salads had burst and got on the other things. Though not on any of my other stuff, hurrah. I had also bought 4 bottles of Diet Coke (why??), so had to get rid of some of those, too (can't take them through customs). And I also dumped my rug. I rearranged things in various bags, changed my top, and was finally ready. I got back on the tube for the last time and headed to Victoria, then onto the Gatwick Express (which was mobbed! Bloody hell), and then was at the airport nice and early.
But just as I got off the train I spotted someone holding the late edition of the Evening Standard, which had a picture of Paul on the front and an article about the signing! You got them for free on the 1st Class carriage of the train. Once I'd checked in and got rid of my bag I raced over to WH Smith in arrivals and looked for it - no sign, they still had the early edition. Bugger. So, um - I headed back down to the Gatwick Express platform and wandered along, wondering if there was a spare copy on a table in First Class I could pilfer. *blush* Anyway, there wasn't. But I knew there were two WH Smiths in the departures hall, so I went through Customs/Security (a joy as always) and then headed over there. By this time I could barely walk I was so tired (yay for 5 hours sleep in 3 days!), but was determined to find one. I asked the lady in WH Smith, and they also only had the early edition, but she very kindly walked all the way over to the warehouse to pick up some copies of the late edition for me! That was so nice of her. :) I bought two and read the article, which was lovely, talking about how, despite the recent 'unpleasantness', Paul's fans are still supporting him, more strongly than ever, and the turnout and big overnight queues proves it. Most of the articles I've seen have been along the same lines. For once, it seems the tabloids are actually supporting Paul rather than bashing him. (I suspect it won't last, but it was nice anyway.)
So then I went online for a bit, made the entry you all saw the other day, and before I knew it my flight was boarding! I was ready to go home, truth be told, because I wanted my beeeeeed. Soon enough, I was home, and tried to come on and write an entry on here but just fell asleep over my laptop. So. Effing. Tired.
The next day I had work, so I took in the CD and DVD to show the guys, and on the way in bought the Daily Mail, lol. I wasn't in it (woe), but there was a nice article. At lunchtime I bought all of the day's papers and clipped out all the articles on the signing to keep.
I hadn't told my colleagues where I was going, so they were a bit surprised, lol. None of them are big fans so they were sort of "huh! OK, well, good for you, I suppose! YOU NUTTER." I told my boss I slept on the street the night before and she said "why, were you skint?" Ah, touche, Margaret.
The person who was the most excited was Darran, who is a massive Beatles fan. He briefly forgot where I'd been when I came in and then remembered, and he was all "OH! Did you see him??" and so he was all excited, which was nice. He wants me to post about it on his rock website's forum, aww. So I probably will at some point. I told him what Paul had said, and so every time I went up to the printer (which is next to his desk) he would sing "Oh! Darling" very badly. Har har.
So that was it - that night (Thursday) was the work quiz night, which was straight after work - we didn't win, but it was good fun and we won 2 things in the raffle - white chocolate and vanilla cream liqueur and biscuits, OH HELL YES. I've just been so tired every day since I got back until today, when I had the chance to sleep in until lunchtime, and so have been able to get all this down without conking out over the keyboard and waking up with QWERTY tattooed across my cheek.
And now, I have a weekend of nothing ahead of me (yay), which is good because December starts on Friday and it's gonna be mad! Friday and Saturday next week is the big company trip to Guernsey, then the Friday after is the department Christmas party, then the Friday after that is the company's Christmas ball, and the weekend after that is - oh yeah. Christmas! So hopefully it's not going to be too mad. Work has been mental, though - honestly, you go off for 3 days and it takes you 10 to catch up.
And I just remembered that today is one year to the day that I saw Paul's concert in Las Vegas. *tear* Ah, memories.
I don't know what I'm going to do today. Probably nothing. Woo! \o/ There is a Carry On movie on tonight yaye. :) I love them. We decided yesterday that sometimes our workplace is like Carry On Helpdesk. Oooh, matron.
...I can't possibly have pizza for dinner 2 nights in a row, can I? ;)
Anyway. Wednesday night, when I got back, I was exhausted, aching, hungry and just generally worn out, but I shall never be able to stop myself from smiling when I think of that day.
Here be the full details. Possibly too many. I am very long-winded.
So. About ten days ago, I got an e-mail advising me of this:
Haha, I thought. Hahaha. I should go. Thinking about my adventures at the Green Wing signing (I know, not even close to the same scale, but still), I thought and thought for days about it. I really did have a hard time deciding, until I told myself I might never get a chance like this again, and finally one night last week at about midnight I went on and booked a flight and a hotel. ...Couldn't quite believe I'd done it, to be honest. I decided to keep it reasonably quiet, as I felt - I don't know, that it might jinx it if I went and told everyone.
After that I kept an eye on the paulmccartney.com forums to see when people were planning on turning up to join the queue, and eventually formulated a plan based on this information. The Plan was to go to sleep in the hotel between 6 and 8pm Tuesday (I'd be arriving in London around lunchtime), get up about 3 or 4am, and join the queue about 5am. That was 3 or 4 hours before the store opened. That would be plenty of time, I thought, surely. It looked like other people were planning to turn up at about the same sort of time, so I went with that. 4am! Haha. How nuts! Oh, if only she knew what was to come, you all giggle into your popcorn.
It was in my head that going to London, queueing etc didn't guarantee me meeting Paul, so I tried not to get my hopes up too much, though I couldn't stop myself from thinking about what I'd say to him if I did meet him. The main reason I wanted to meet him was to thank him for everything he's given me (and, y'know, the world, but it might sound a bit mad to go up and say "on behalf of the world..."), so I was trying to come up with something along those lines. I have quite a vivid imagination about these things, though, and every time I tried to imagine me actually standing in front of the actual Paul and actually saying words, my insides would shrivel in terror.
So anyway. Booked Monday to Wednesday off work (Monday being that all important grooming/shopping/packing day). Monday night, as usual before I travel, I got no sleep - well, I lie. Two hours. Pfft. Flight and travel went fine and I arrived in London around 12.30pm Tuesday.
I headed straight to Piccadilly as my hotel was right across the street from the Virgin Megastore, and I thought as I was passing I would see if there was a queue, just out of interest. The store backs into the tube station, so I went in the back way and got a bit lost, finally finding the front doors and heading out onto the street. To my astonishment, there were people queued already! They looked like they'd been there ages, with airbeds, rugs, space blankets, sleeping bags, pillows, the full works. The queue was already round the corner and a little bit down the street.
I checked into the hotel and sat on my bed, angsting. Really, by the looks of things, I should join the queue ASAP. I totted up in my head how many hours this would be in the queue and realised I'd need, at at the very least, a blanket or two. I was exhausted and had really hoped to get a few hours sleep before joining the queue. But, if I waited and missed out, would I be kicking myself forever?
So after girding my loins I set straight off and walked back into Tottenham Court Road, where the queue was, and quickly went round the shops to try and find a sleeping bag or something. And could I find anything suitable? No. (For the record, I didn't know that the huge Lillywhites shop was a sports shop at the time. We don't have one at home. So - yeah. I found out later, as you will see.)
Eventually I found a Scottish woollen goods shop which had rugs on sale, so I bought a huge wool blanket from there for fifteen quid. I then went into Boots and bought TONS of food, including loads of Diet Coke and snacks/sandwiches/chocolates. After that I headed back to the hotel for what I believed would be the last time, and showered, changed (into what I would actually wear to meet Paul were such a thing to happen), did my hair and make-up, etc. Then I packed up, grabbed my lone rug and food and headed over.
The queue was slightly longer than when I had last passed it, but not by much. I got in behind a bunch of guys, next to a little doorway alcove. Brilliant, I thought, this will keep me warm.
The guys didn't really talk to me, but soon two ladies joined the queue and after a little while we ended up chatting away. We ended up being big queue buddies and, I hope, friends thereafter. Coincidentally they were staying in the same hotel! And they'd had exactly the same plan, to start queueing after midnight and get some sleep before then, but like me they'd seen the queue and decided to join straight away.
A little later their friends (Maureen and Elena) came and joined them, and behind them two guys (Larry and Adrian) and a lady who'd come up from Portsmouth at the last minute and totally unprepared, leaving her husband a note! We all got chatting and Larry told us how he'd come to the signing at Waterstones but hadn't realised the queue had gone round a corner so had left and come back later, and missed out! Adrian had had the same plan as us, but had spotted the queue and also joined early. It seemed that was the case with everyone!
The two ladies who'd joined the queue behind me (Carole and Lynda) told me to go and give my name to a lady up the front who was making a list, ostentibly to prevent pushing in, so I went up and was no. 71. Carole and Lynda were 64 and 65, but they knew I was in front of them, and 71 was a pretty good number, so whatever. The only concern we had was that the list was not official in any way, but stil, 60-70 was a great number and looked very likely to get to meet Paul, so I was quite excited.
A woman from the office we were queueing in front of came out and told us not to stand in their doorway, so we shuffled down a bit to the other side of their office, hoping that once the office closed up for the night we could move into the doorway, to have some shelter from the cold.
And then - we played the waiting game.
Luckily, we were camped about 5 yards away from a Starbucks (\o/), so I went and got a peppermint mocha almost straight away. Unfortunately, it was so cold out it went cold very quickly. Also unfortunately, the Starbucks closed at 7.30 so their would be no coffee into the night, unless we fancied a bit of a walk.
Soon enough it started to get dark, and my feet began to ache. We noticed that quite a lot of people further up the queue had folding chairs - all identical, with England flags on them (presumably made for the World Cup). After a while one of our party went off to ask them where they were from and they told us Lillywhites (which is practically across the street)!
Carole and Lynda had gone back to the hotel to use the loo and such, so myself and the lady from Portsmouth headed across to buy chairs while the others watched our stuff. On the way she told me she'd been very ill recently, and was queueing when she really shouldn't be. Which was a little worrying. :/
We found the chairs eventually, all neatly folded in bags saying "ENGLAND CHAIR" on. They were half price, too, so that was a plus. We also bumped into Carole and Lynda in the store, who were the next 'shift' to come and get chairs. When we all got back, Adrian and Elena went. All good fun. :)
We were starting to form quite a tightly-knit little group, and once the office had shut and we'd OKed it with the night watchman we set up our chairs in a little circle outside the door, with Adrian, the lady from Portsmouth (damn, I can't remember her name!) and Larry behind us. Larry was off taking loads of photos, as he's a photographer. We looked like a huge mob of England fans camping out for something in our matching chairs. XD
Behind our group some young lads joined, already drunk and each waving a bottle of wine. One way to keep out the cold, I suppose. We half expected them to be a bit obnoxious but they were actually really good fun. :)
It soon began to get bitterly cold, and I pulled out my scarf and gloves. I'd checked the weather report before I'd come and while it was supposed to be dry (thank god), it was also supposed to be the coldest night of the year so far. Great. The rug followed soon after, but unfortunately, one thing I hadn't even considered was what the rug would do to my coat. My coat is black wool, and the rug was light wool, and soon what I like to call the 'Cat Hair Effect' took place, whereby my coat was instantly covered with a coating of pale lint. It looked ridiculous. By this point, I was past caring because I was so damn cold. At one point another trip to Lillywhites was made by some of the others to buy sleeping bags, but I felt I'd already bought my chair and blanket and couldn't really buy more stuff - I really wish I had, though.
It got colder and colder and I started to shiver. I couldn't feel my toes inside my boots any more and was convinced that when I took my shoes off my toes would come with them. (Ew.) I even took off my boots, added my bedsocks and put the boots back on, and it still didn't help. I even had to resort to my fugly wooly hat, which did help a little, but not much.
The night dragged on, and countless buses and taxis thundered past us. We were actually right next to a bus stop, so every time a bus pulled in (approximately every 30 seconds), everyone on it would turn and stare. The people getting off would regularly come over and ask what we were doing/waiting for. I must have said "Paul McCartney" about 30 times. Reactions ranged from "oh, OK," to "oh my God, why??" to "you're crazy!" to "I think it's a beautiful thing you're all doing." (And thank you for that last one, anonymous stranger.)
But we soon got bored, so the next time someone asked, Elena said "Michael Jackson," with a completely straight face. And the guy believed her that all these people were queueing for Michael Jackson's new album. Bwaha! At one point we also told people David Hasselhoff, and I decided to tell the next person that asked I was waiting for a Nintendo Wii (despite them not coming out for another 3 weeks). Some people formed this conclusion on their own, as I heard one guy say to his friend "...what some people will do for a PlayStation 3" as he walked past.
One other guy told us we looked like the biggest homeless protest ever seen.
At around nine o clock, we all started to get damn hungry, as none of us had had any dinner and most hadn't had lunch, either. (I hadn't even had breakfast.) So Adrian, Larry and the lady said they'd watch our chairs/rugs etc while we went across the street to Garfunkel's to get a hot meal. By this point I felt almost frozen solid and so was ecstatic to be getting in the warm.
We are warm! Yay! L-R: Me, Carole, Elena, Lynda, Maureen.
We had a really fun meal and Lynda, Maureen and Carole were telling us all these amazing stories. It turns out they were Apple Scruffs, back in the day! No, really. Elena wasn't old enough to have been so and obviously neither am I, so we were enthralled, even though she'd heard the stories before. All sorts of stories about meeting the group back in the day, sneaking into Abbey Road Studios, getting lifts in their cars when they weren't supposed to, crying and chatting with Paul outside his house the night before he married Linda (he opened his door to see them all crying and said "what's this, heartbreak hotel?", before fetching a jumper from his house and coming down to the gate to talk to them), being invited into the studio to listen to Magical Mystery Tour being edited, following John and Paul to the airport when they were off to New York to promote Apple and J&P being Not Best Pleased, travelling in John's psychedelic Rolls Royce, being arrested by Paul's neighbour (Maureen waving out of the back of the police car), playing pranks on Paul, and all sorts! Absolutely amazing. Elena and I said they should write a book or make a movie or something.
The meal was nice, I had pasta and chicken, and being in the warm was wonderful. I didn't want to go back outside, but we had to, so about an hour later we donned hats/coats/scarves/gloves again and headed back over, so the boys and the lady could go and get food. Adrian kindly brought back Burger King for himself and the lady, while Larry went off to get Chinese.
Now we'd been inside in the warm it was even more torturous sitting out in the cold. It was late now, about 11pm, and we were starting to get people who were out for the evening walking past. There was one group of girls who were all giggly and tipsy, they looked about 16, and they all came up and were asking us about it - they thought it was very cool and were quite sweet and mad.
I was getting even colder than I had been earlier, and tried to drape my rug in new and exciting ways to keep as much of me covered as possible. I took a few photos around this time, too.
That's the door of the office we were outside of. So cold omf.
I'M TOO SEXY FOR MY HAT.
Seriously, I know I look like a wanker in it but it did help me feel a teeny bit warmer.
Around this time the security from Virgin started handing out numbered tickets to those queueing. This was an excellent idea, as this would be the order they'd be letting us in in the next morning. Obviously some people had joined their friends in the queue since the afternoon, with the result that I was now number 84. But that was my official number now, and would remain so, and I was quite happy because that's my year of birth. :)
So we were chuffed with them for doing that, as it saved a lot of grief the next day. We carried on chatting and, in my case, trying not to die from hypothermia.
The hours ticked by, and we decided to go back to the hotel in shifts, to use the loo, freshen up, whatever. Two would go for an hour or so, then come back, and then the next two, and so on.
I seemed to be suffering with the cold the worst, probably because I was stupid and didn't have a sleeping bag, and finally aorund 2am, reached my breaking point. I was almost passing out from cold and tiredness, so when Elena and Maureen headed back to the hotel for a bit I went with them, and told them I would try and get my head down for two hours or so. We exchanged phone numbers so Maureen could ring me at 4 to get me up.
I fell into the room, which was warm and had a heater and nearly cried with joy. My getting made up had clearly been highly pointless, but I took off my top I'd chosen to see Paul in and put on the t-shirt I'd brought to sleep in. I fell into the bed and slept for two hours. When Maureen rang, she suggested I have another hour, as it was only 4am, and I gladly agreed.
At about 5.10 I dragged myself reluctantly out of the warm bed and, shivering, got dressed again. While I was asleep my makeup had all moved approximately half an inch down my face, so I reapplied and sorted it, and redid my hair. I donned the ridiculously linty coat and the scarf/gloves etc - I had even put all four of the socks I was wearing on the radiator for a bit before putting them on - and headed back out.
When I arrived they told me the lady from Portsmouth had gone! Apparently her ill health had caught up with her and she'd started to feel really bad, so she'd just jumped in a taxi and left. Shame, to have queued for all that time too. And she'd seemed OK when I left, quite lively - in fact, at one point she was holding forth, loudly, on how John Lennon had been very obviously gay. "He was a poofter!" she screeched. "Gay as a donkey!"
Not an expression I'd heard before, I must admit.
We were all smirking but hiding our faces by this point, in a display of "Look, We're Not With Her". It was hilarious. It just came out of nowhere! "He was always on Brian Epstein's yacht!!"
Dead God, I hope that's not a euphemism.
It was hilarious, anyway, if not slightly bizarre. And weirdly, some drunk guy had wandered past earlier and shouted "who's coming? Gay Paul?" It was so In And Out. "Is everybody gay??"
While I was no longer as tired, it was now even colder than before and I was shivering within all of 10 seconds after settling back into my chair. The rug and my hat, which I'd left out, felt like they'd been stored in a fridge as I put them back on. Oh, well. SHIIIIVERRRRRRRRRR.
It was around 5.45 by this point and after a while it started to get light. We'd made it through the night!
(In case I haven't quite impressed it upon you, I have never been colder in my entire life. And while I did get 3 hours sleep in a warm room, that still left 13 outside, so - yeah. Brrrrrrrr.)
Anyway, we sat around for another two hours, when the people who'd been coming home from work the day before were now going back to work and saw us still sitting there. Soon enough the security staff came to tell us to start packing up. The guys next to us had constructed a sort of tiny shanty town out of boxes and tape, so they started dismantling it. We had boxes too, whch had been given to us by the kind security staff in the office we were otuside (and Larry had gone to find some too). Putting them on the ground stopped our feet from getting so cold as it insulated them - an old market trader's trick, apparently.
So we folded up the chairs and sleeping bags and rugs and boxes and collected all our rubbish, and it became clear what they were trying to do was get the queue all stood and compressed, as we were all spread out. One girl, passing before Starbucks had opened, asked the guys next to us "why are you all queueing for Starbucks?" "We REALLY WANT COFFEE," they replied. "WE'VE BEEN HERE 12 HOURS." She looked a bit stunned and wandered off.
Soon the queue was much shorter as everyone had been moved down, and we were a bit warmer now we were (sort of) moving. The press arrived and started to take pictures of the queue at around 7.45, and just after 8 they opened the store and started letting people in to buy the CD and DVD.
By this point, our group were all firm friends, and we were chatitng away. I started chatting with Adrian, who was really funny. We decided to dump our England chairs, as I couldn't really take mine on the plane and he coouldn't carry his around London all day, so we left them propped against the wall with about 5 others. We also had a laugh at Larry's gloves - he'd just found them around places and kept them, and one was a huge, brown leather boxing-glove-style mitten (which he says he found and it was a bit battered so he put leather polish on it), and the other was a navy blue, fluffy-edged, ladies' glove. We were in stitches when we noticed them.
Soon enough it was our turn to go in - we were let in in groups of about 8 or so, and were processed really quickly at the tills. You'd ask for 'one of each' or just one or two of one or whatever you wanted, but you could only buy those two items. (Well, you could also buy 'Love' as it was next to the till - they obviously realised they had a captive audience - but you couldn't get it signed.)
Once you'd bought your things you were given a little slip of paper with instructions on as to what would be happening and The Rules, which said by having a blue wristband you were in a 'priority' queue to meet Paul, i.e. he would definitely get through those and then start on the reserves (I think about nos. 200 upwards) if there was time/he felt like it/etc. Finally your shiny blue wristband was clipped on, and you were pointed up the stairs and guided to the queueing area. They were playing Paul's DVD loudly throughout the store.
Welcome banner.
The signing area - on the left, behind the glass, is the queueing area (this was taken from the top of the stairs).
Once we got into position we were ecstatic, because - it was real, we were in the store and had our wristbands and were in the first 100 people. We were allowed to leave the store briefly to find a toilet and so on, because there wasn't one in the shop, and once you had your wristband you could pretty much do as you liked, as long as you had someone to hold your place in the queue for you - they wouldn't do it for you.
Once we arrived we took some pictures of ourselves filled to the brim with girlish glee.
(That's Adrian on the right.)
(And one with Larry!)
Elena, Maureen and I decided to head back to the hotel to check out and dump our luggage. We did so, and I also re-did my make up and hair (yes, again), and left my linty coat with the bags. (Seeing as I would only be inside now, I no longer needed it, and it looked awful all covered in fluff.)
We finally headed back over and settled onto the floor to begin Queueing 2: Electric Boogaloo.
Truth be told, this was more uncomfortable than outside, because the floor was hard and we had nothing to sit on. There was also a mad draught coming in from somewhere, under the display cabinet. (We were camped out in World Music and Jazz.) This queue would be about 3.5 or 4 hours, though, compared to 16 outside, so, y'know. Not too bad.
The morning passed, and Adrian and I had a long, long chat about all things Beatles. He's been to all the Beatles sites in the UK (well, nearly all), and showed me the picture of the Woolton Church Hall on his camera. We talked about the new album, and the Concert for George (he and Elena were actually there, though they didn't know each other then, as they only met in the queue for this), and lots about John and Paul. It was so much fun to chat with a fellow massive fan with Beatles music playing, not something I get to do in RL - well, ever.
We also started getting the mad giggles, mainly out of nerves, and were practically hysterical. We were trying to think of things to say to Paul and the ideas just got madder and madder. "So. Was John gay as a donkey?" was one that was rejected early on. XD But it was such a laugh, and badly needed too, as I was starting to feel faint with nerves (and possibly hunger). I still wasn't sure what I'd say to Paul, but way back when I first decided I'd go, what had popped into my head was that I wanted to think him, and how much it would mean to thank him in person. So that was floating around my head.
At about 11.20 people started getting to their feet, and we followed suit, getting excited. The Vrgin staff all started appearing on our floor and the press started to arrive. Some people started milling about in the signing area and that got us all excited too. But Paul wasn't early, in fact, and the anticipation was torturous. For nearly an hour we stood there, looking around, as the atmosphere built and built and you could feel the excitement and nervousness in the air. Just as Adrian and I thought we might actually go insane from the tension, a few people started to clap and shout and - he was there!
There were quite a few screams, with teenage girls bouncing up and down and clutching each other, and I was all "dude. He's 64 and he's still doing that to young girls. I mean, that's something." He really is still The Cute One.
Paul came up the stairs and round through the classical section (I knew something would be happening in there, no one ever goes in there), and through a small curtain into the signing area. The press went mad, there were hundreds of flashes and calls - I'd never been anywhere that had had major press attention like that before, so it was an eye-opener. I couldn't see Paul, but had caught a glimpse of him through the crowd as he'd come up the stairs. Just like the concert I went to last year, it was totally surreal. His face is so familiar to me that it was quite a shock to see him really there in front of me, and so I didn't start leaping about and squeeing yet, as the sense of "oh - my - god..." ness washed over me. Heavy, man. He was wearing a dark suit, white shirt and tie, and looked happy to see everyone squealing and waving and smiling and clapping and that.
Soon after the queue began to move - and quickly! I applied my lippy and the queue began to shuffle forward. Oddly, now Paul was here and we'd actually seen him, an odd sense of calm had settled over us - we no longer felt hysterical or terrified - I can't even describe how I felt. Oddly relaxed and happy, rather than "ohmygodohmygodwhatdoIdoooo?"
The DVD was playing here too, quite loudly at first, and I wondered if I would have to shout "sorry, what? I can't hear you over yourself," to Paul. They turned it down soon after.
The Queue Nazis were keeping everyone in line, screaming in our ears, and it did begin to feel a bit like a military operation. The only point I got a bit irritated was when we had all squashed right down, and the woman was still bellowing "MOVE RIGHT UP, PLEASE! MOVE RIGHT UP!" in a really arsey tone. I was all "DUDE, WE ARE ALMOST ON TOP OF EACH OTHER DOWN HERE."
We were instructed to pull out our CD books and DVD inserts while queueing - Virgin's plan had been to remove all of your bags from you before you reached the signing area, put them in a box, and then give them back to you at the foot of the stairs. However, the queue was moving so quickly that they didn't have time to get the bags back down before the people were there, and the stairwell was full of people waiting for bags and blocking the exits. So they gave up and told us all to keep our bags, we just weren't allowed to get anything out of them. The DVD and CD you were holding were searched before you reached the signing area, in case you'd slipped a birthday card/other CD booklet/whatever in there. I was glad I'd dumped my bags at the hotel and just had my small handbag, other people had chairs/suitcases/sleeping bags and all sorts.
I was at the front of our group, and before I knew I was in the signing area. The security man asked me what the number on my ticket was, and I thought "oh god, does he want to see it?" because I thought it was in my bag back at the hotel. But he only wanted to know the number because Paul wanted to know how far through the line we were. So I told the man 84, and the girl in front of me turned and whispered "I'm 61,". Haha, oops.
At one point, as one guy grabbed his signed things and the next person hadn't stepped up yet, Paul sort of looked around the room and his eyes met mine for a second. I was so surprised I immediately looked away, hee. Adrian had told me I'd practically gone scarlet in the queue after Paul had arrived. Probably true. Flustered, and all that.
But yes, suddenly the girl in front of me was thanking Paul and stepping away, and there was no one in front of me. It was my turn to step up. By this point he had taken off his jacket and so was in a shirt and tie.
So I stepped up to the table, and Paul said hello, and I think I did, and put my CD booklet and DVD cover down. He signed the CD, and as he was doing so, looking down at it, I started talking, saying my little bit which I had only kind of rehearsed in my head. It seemed to come out reasonably easily once I was there, because it came from the heart. (You at the back, stop making vomit noises.)
But really, I probably should have waited for him to finish signing, because he was concentrating on writing and looking down and it was noisy, so he clearly didn't hear me. Once he'd finished the CD he looked up at me and said "what was that, darlin'?"
At which point I nearly died, but pushed the 'Paul McCartney is talking to meeeeeeeeeee" feelings down a bit and told him again, this time looking him straight in the eyes. He listened attentively and interestedly and really, I felt like there wasn't anyone else in the room. It was quite intense, talking to him and holding his gaze as I did so, but I said my little bit, and he made this little face which I can't really describe, but it was sort of a "n'aww," expression, if that makes any sense. It was very cute. He pulled over the DVD cover to sign that too and as he did so, said "thank you, for your kind words." Once he'd done that he smiled up at me once more and I smiled back and that was it! The next person (Lynda) stepped up, I grabbed my things and scarpered, Britain's Biggest Grin plastered across my face. It must have been all of 15 or 20 seconds, but still.
Someone asked me what colour his eyes were, as they look different colours in different photos, and to them I'd say - that's because they are. They're very big and all sorts of different shades of brown and green. As abromeds once said, even - dun dun dunnnn - kaleidoscope eyes?? :P
So, to answer that question - um. Hazel! Yes.
If you're wondering what Paul looked like at the signing, here are a couple of press pictures - I didn't get any and neither did my friends because it wasn't allowed, but you get the idea.
I'll post if any more nice ones turn up. :)
I bounded down the stairs and the lady stopped me to cut off my wristband. I was allowed to keep it, though. As I headed down I noticed a queue in a sort of holding area at the back - these must have been the 'reserve' wristbands they had handed out. I think they actually had time to get through those too, or at least some of them!
I got outside, and found myself at the side door at the top of Regent Street. Lots of people were congregated around there, many of whom had obviously tried to get in and not been able to. I got a few Looks. As I stood, I noticed it was just starting to rain, as I saw a few tiny drops on my DVD cover. I very quickly put it and the CD away in my bag, and noticed that as well as all the fans, there were a lot of press around. I stood, waiting for the others, when a lady from Virgin Radio came up and asked to interview me. Hee. :)
After that, a photographer from the Daily Mail asked if he could take my picture and do an interview, so he took a few pictures of me holding up the CD in the cheesiest way possible, I imagine, in front of the big poster. We then went to find the reporter, who was actually talking to the rest of my group! I also noticed Adrian being interviewed for BBC Radio 2 and the telly!
So all very exciting.
By the time the interviews were over it was starting to rain very heavily. This was at about 1.30, so if you think about it, we were about nos. 84-90, and we had all got through the queue and outside by half one, so Paul was getting through the queue quickly! And it hadn't felt rushed to me, really. Adrian had asked him a question about his most memorable gig, which took a bit longer, and he says he was gently moved along, but not unreasonably so.
So we went across the road to Garfunkel's again, for a celebratory lunch, as none of us had eaten yet that day. (My food from Boots had remained untouched, as it was too cold to eat it. Seriously.) We sat around, a bit dazed, and Lynda told us that Paul had remembered her and the others! "I could never forget you lot," he'd said to them. Bless!
So we were all sending texts to everyone we'd ever met, and Adrian rang his wife - he hadn't told her he'd camped out all night, haha, but she didn't seem to mind too much, and we all ordered some lunch and coffee. Now was the comedown, the adrenaline finally disappearing and being replaced with bone-tiredness but massive happiness.
Adrian left first, as he wanted to go off and see the Apple offices in Savile Row where the Rooftop Concert was held and find Brian Epstein's flat in Belgravia. I was quite tempted to come along, but I'm happy to do these things alone, and it seemed he was too, so we said goodbye there. I made sure to collect everybody's e-mail addresses first so I could send them the few, fairly crap, pictures I'd got, and we could keep in touch. Once we'd finished and paid we said goodbye outside and went our separate ways, and I headed straight onto the Tube and over to the Beatles Store - I'd hoped to get there the day before but obviously had had to start queueing straight away.
The rain stopped by the time I got there, and nothing could put a dent in my good mood, even though I was tired. It was also a bit warmer (probably because of the rain), so I didn't need my coat while running around. At the store I bought a great new bag, a J/P keyring, a matching glass and mug (with the 'Love, The Beatles' design from the drum in the I Am The Walrus video on), and a cute Sgt Pepper blue teddy. Showed considerable restraint, I thought. :)
Once I'd finished there I thought, well, I might as well start the end of this journey - I have nothing I especially want to do in London, I'm tired, I might as well get to the airport and chill out in the departures hall for a bit. So I headed back to the hotel and got my bags and sorted them, which was a mammoth task in itself - I ended up throwing a lot of the food out because one of the pasta salads had burst and got on the other things. Though not on any of my other stuff, hurrah. I had also bought 4 bottles of Diet Coke (why??), so had to get rid of some of those, too (can't take them through customs). And I also dumped my rug. I rearranged things in various bags, changed my top, and was finally ready. I got back on the tube for the last time and headed to Victoria, then onto the Gatwick Express (which was mobbed! Bloody hell), and then was at the airport nice and early.
But just as I got off the train I spotted someone holding the late edition of the Evening Standard, which had a picture of Paul on the front and an article about the signing! You got them for free on the 1st Class carriage of the train. Once I'd checked in and got rid of my bag I raced over to WH Smith in arrivals and looked for it - no sign, they still had the early edition. Bugger. So, um - I headed back down to the Gatwick Express platform and wandered along, wondering if there was a spare copy on a table in First Class I could pilfer. *blush* Anyway, there wasn't. But I knew there were two WH Smiths in the departures hall, so I went through Customs/Security (a joy as always) and then headed over there. By this time I could barely walk I was so tired (yay for 5 hours sleep in 3 days!), but was determined to find one. I asked the lady in WH Smith, and they also only had the early edition, but she very kindly walked all the way over to the warehouse to pick up some copies of the late edition for me! That was so nice of her. :) I bought two and read the article, which was lovely, talking about how, despite the recent 'unpleasantness', Paul's fans are still supporting him, more strongly than ever, and the turnout and big overnight queues proves it. Most of the articles I've seen have been along the same lines. For once, it seems the tabloids are actually supporting Paul rather than bashing him. (I suspect it won't last, but it was nice anyway.)
So then I went online for a bit, made the entry you all saw the other day, and before I knew it my flight was boarding! I was ready to go home, truth be told, because I wanted my beeeeeed. Soon enough, I was home, and tried to come on and write an entry on here but just fell asleep over my laptop. So. Effing. Tired.
The next day I had work, so I took in the CD and DVD to show the guys, and on the way in bought the Daily Mail, lol. I wasn't in it (woe), but there was a nice article. At lunchtime I bought all of the day's papers and clipped out all the articles on the signing to keep.
I hadn't told my colleagues where I was going, so they were a bit surprised, lol. None of them are big fans so they were sort of "huh! OK, well, good for you, I suppose! YOU NUTTER." I told my boss I slept on the street the night before and she said "why, were you skint?" Ah, touche, Margaret.
The person who was the most excited was Darran, who is a massive Beatles fan. He briefly forgot where I'd been when I came in and then remembered, and he was all "OH! Did you see him??" and so he was all excited, which was nice. He wants me to post about it on his rock website's forum, aww. So I probably will at some point. I told him what Paul had said, and so every time I went up to the printer (which is next to his desk) he would sing "Oh! Darling" very badly. Har har.
So that was it - that night (Thursday) was the work quiz night, which was straight after work - we didn't win, but it was good fun and we won 2 things in the raffle - white chocolate and vanilla cream liqueur and biscuits, OH HELL YES. I've just been so tired every day since I got back until today, when I had the chance to sleep in until lunchtime, and so have been able to get all this down without conking out over the keyboard and waking up with QWERTY tattooed across my cheek.
And now, I have a weekend of nothing ahead of me (yay), which is good because December starts on Friday and it's gonna be mad! Friday and Saturday next week is the big company trip to Guernsey, then the Friday after is the department Christmas party, then the Friday after that is the company's Christmas ball, and the weekend after that is - oh yeah. Christmas! So hopefully it's not going to be too mad. Work has been mental, though - honestly, you go off for 3 days and it takes you 10 to catch up.
And I just remembered that today is one year to the day that I saw Paul's concert in Las Vegas. *tear* Ah, memories.
I don't know what I'm going to do today. Probably nothing. Woo! \o/ There is a Carry On movie on tonight yaye. :) I love them. We decided yesterday that sometimes our workplace is like Carry On Helpdesk. Oooh, matron.
...I can't possibly have pizza for dinner 2 nights in a row, can I? ;)