July 17, 1964 11:23am, the Lennons' house
I needed to talk to someone about this whole Bob Dylan thing. It had been over a week since the premiere and I was starting to believe that I would truly go mad if I didn't stop bottling up such a devastating secret. I had merely been going through the motions of looking after Julian, eating and sleeping. Sometimes if I was lucky, or unlucky, depending on your view, these activities were shared with my husband.
Since he'd run off after our argument, we'd barely seen each other long enough to make polite conversation, let alone sort out the problems with our marriage.
So, what I'd resolved to do was invite someone over who I could talk to. That, of course, meant another woman, preferably someone in the same boat as myself. And the obvious choice was Maureen Cox. Being Ringo's girlfriend, she knew just how difficult life with aBeatle could be. We'd known each other since the boys' days at the Cavern, so I was much closer to her than Paul or George's girlfriends.
While i waited for her to arrive, I fidgeted around the front room nervously, cleaning and listening to music. The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan. I should have been trying my best not think about that man and certainly not romanticising the memory of our adulterous activities by listening to his records and mooning over him. It wasn't as if we'd ever be able to do a thing like that again. My relationship with John was far too important for me to let it. I was sure Bob a decent enough fellow to respect that decision if we ever crossed paths in the future. Not that we were at all likely to. And, for some reason I could quite put my finger on, that reality saddened me greatly.
Half of the people can be part right all of the time,
Some of the people can be all right part of the time.
But all the people can't be all right all the time.
There was a smart rapping on the front door, interrupting both my thoughts and the song. I looked up and recognised the shape in the frosted glass as Mo and I shouted that I was coming.
Before I did, I looked down at the record. As I watched it spin, I spoke along with the next line out of what had almost become habit. "I'll let you be in my dreams if I can be in yours."
I said that...
"Yeah, Bob," I muttered to myself as I walked over to the door to let my friend in. "Yeah, you did."
Since he'd run off after our argument, we'd barely seen each other long enough to make polite conversation, let alone sort out the problems with our marriage.
So, what I'd resolved to do was invite someone over who I could talk to. That, of course, meant another woman, preferably someone in the same boat as myself. And the obvious choice was Maureen Cox. Being Ringo's girlfriend, she knew just how difficult life with aBeatle could be. We'd known each other since the boys' days at the Cavern, so I was much closer to her than Paul or George's girlfriends.
While i waited for her to arrive, I fidgeted around the front room nervously, cleaning and listening to music. The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan. I should have been trying my best not think about that man and certainly not romanticising the memory of our adulterous activities by listening to his records and mooning over him. It wasn't as if we'd ever be able to do a thing like that again. My relationship with John was far too important for me to let it. I was sure Bob a decent enough fellow to respect that decision if we ever crossed paths in the future. Not that we were at all likely to. And, for some reason I could quite put my finger on, that reality saddened me greatly.
Half of the people can be part right all of the time,
Some of the people can be all right part of the time.
But all the people can't be all right all the time.
There was a smart rapping on the front door, interrupting both my thoughts and the song. I looked up and recognised the shape in the frosted glass as Mo and I shouted that I was coming.
Before I did, I looked down at the record. As I watched it spin, I spoke along with the next line out of what had almost become habit. "I'll let you be in my dreams if I can be in yours."
I said that...
"Yeah, Bob," I muttered to myself as I walked over to the door to let my friend in. "Yeah, you did."