Leaving it Until the Last Minute (Fan Meeting 1982)

No photos were taken during this meeting with Paul so I included a photograph of Paul from around this time period

 

Leving it Until the Last Minutes

By Laurie Ross

With a Little  Help From my Friends 

April 1983 (Issue #42)

    When I arrived in London on the morning of October 9, 1982, the biggest question and worry on my mind was, "Will I see Paul?" For the previous three years, I had been lucky enough to meet him at AIR or see him in concert, incredible luck, when you consider that in my office, where I work, I have to choose my holidays in January, so there are no last-minute plans for me. Except for in '81, the last two previous occasions I didn't see him until my last couple of days in London, which is hard on the nerves, to say the least. In fact, once I had to phone my boss and tell her a far-fetched story about my friend being injured in a car accident and how I had to take care of her. Luckily, she believed me. I hope she didn't hear my whoop of joy as I hung up the phone.  I got to see Paul, after all.

     Anyway, my hopes were a bit dimmed when I rang my London friend only to be informed that Paul had finished recording the day before I arrived. Grrr, however, I had three weeks in England altogether, and felt very hopeful. I spent a lot of time with my good friend Doylene, who was very patient with me and kept me company at MPL and at the gallery where Linda's photo exhibit was. Of course, we didn't see the man, as of course, he was in New York, but we didn't know that then. It's so humiliating and frustrating waiting outside MPL when you know the staff inside know exactly where Paul is, but wouldn't dream of telling you, and probably have a good laugh at your expense. It isn't hard to tell a Macca fan in Soho Square. We're the ones trying to casually read a paper while jumping every time a car stops in front of the building and craning our necks to look into "the" window. 

    After a week, I flew to Kenya for a marvelous two-week holiday. Of course, we Beatle fans are always sniffing out anything at all to do with them, so it wasn't surprising to find me madly going through a hotel's guest book, as I knew Paul had been there in November of 1966. This was at the Tree Tops game viewing hotel in the Adair forest. It's a fantastic place that is built on stilts and is in the middle of nowhere. Everyone has to travel together in a specially built bus, as the roads are so narrow and winding that a normal car just couldn't do it. A water hole and Salt Lick are right outside, and the animals come at all hours of the day and night. We weren't very lucky and only managed to see water buck, baboons, warthogs, and impala. 

    Anyway, I found Paul's signature. He had signed as Hunt Hanson from Frisco, USA, and right below him, Mal had signed his name. Someone had written "Paul McCartney incognito" beside his name, which made it easy for me. Of course, I had to take a photo of this (I was tempted to rip out the page, but would have had about 10 witnesses, so I thought better of it), much to the amusement and bewilderment of the other guests, the things we Beatle nuts do.

     I arrived back in London totally rested and ready for some serious Macca hunting. This time, I was on my own, as Doylene had gone back to the USA. I spent a couple of hours each afternoon at Soho Square, and the only thing I accomplished was to get on a first-name basis with all the pigeons that call the square home. Finally, I got fed up and took off to Cornwall for a few days, hoping that maybe one last week there would bring me luck. 

    On November 10, my last day in London rolled around, and after a futile trip to Berondsey where Paul had done a scene for his film two days previously. I finally admitted defeat. 1982 just wasn't my year to see Paul. I had a lovely holiday, and so what if my cake needed some icing? Cake is good by itself! I met my London friend for a pub lunch, and we headed back to her place for coffee. We got off the bus, and  I decided to have one last look at Cavendish. She lives quite close to him. We went on ahead, and I walked slowly down the road. In all my years of traveling to England, he had never been in that house. He was either on holiday or in Sussex. So you can imagine my shock when I walked by and saw that every light in the place was on. I had heard he had been spending a bit of time at Cavendish, but never dreamed he was living there.

     I raced back to my friend's place and dithered for over an hour over countless cups of coffee before finally deciding to go for it. I know Paul doesn't like fans at his house, but I was desperate and willing to take the chance. I arrived back at number seven at around seven o'clock and walked self-consciously up and down the road for 10 minutes or so. When two girls who haunt MPL turned up, they told me that Paul had been at Cavendish the night before, and had been furious to see them there, and that really made me feel good. I was ready to run! One of the girls chickened out and left. The other stayed to keep me company while we paced up and down. She entertained me with various tales of their encounters with Paul. None of them good. She seemed to think they were hysterical. Poor Paul. 

    About 15 minutes later, a car pulled up and out got Linda. I started walking towards her, smiling when to my horror and shock, she started screaming at us, "Go away! This is our private life! Leave us alone!"  I couldn't believe it. I started walking away and turned around to look at her again, as if it was some sort of nightmare. She yelled at me, "Get going or I'll call the police!"  The other girl, by this time, had headed for the hills, leaving me alone. All I could think of was that I'd never see Paul again, and I was totally shattered. Then I thought, "Why should I take this? I've never been a bother to her or Paul before", and I didn't consider myself one now, so I thought it wasn't the truth.

     So I yelled at her, "I've never been here before. I just want to see you and Paul before I go back to Canada tomorrow."  She started walking towards me, and I cringed, thinking she was going to hit me. She seemed angry enough. To my surprise, she started patting my arm and apologizing profusely. She seemed sincere about it, too. I blubbered on, nearly in tears about how I missed the AIR sessions by one day, and all my friends had seen him, and I just had to see Paul before I went home. Somewhere in there, I handed her a small binder I carried around to sign. She had thought I was with the other girl and felt bad that she had yelled at me. She told me to come back in an hour, and Paul would be there, or I could stay. I told her I'd stay, and she said that would be all right. I must have asked her three times if she was sure Paul wouldn't be angry at me. I'd just die if he ever yelled at me. (Cringe.)

     She was so nice to me that it was unbelievable. And while I'll never be a fan of hers, that experience has lifted her up a bit in my book. It wouldn't have surprised me if she'd invited me in for a cup of tea, but no such luck. As she went in the gate, she told me not to get too cold. James jumped on her as she went to close the gate, and he yelled something at her, but I didn't catch it. All I saw was a flash of golden hair and a little figure in pajamas.

     So I waited and waited. Every car that went down Cavendish gave me heart failure. It was a nice feeling, knowing that I was waiting outside his house with permission, but I still felt very self-conscious and practically sick with worry. An hour and a quarter later, a Range Rover pulled up and out gets Paul. With very unsteady legs and feeling sick to my stomach, I approached him and he looked at me curiously. As I got closer, he seemed to change, and his eyes got a warm look. So perhaps he remembered me from the year before. I'd like to think that.

     I started babbling about how Linda said it was okay to wait and that I was going back to Canada the next day. I just wanted to see him before I left. He said, "That's okay." I handed him the binder, open to Linda's signature, so he could see I had talked to her. While he signed it, I asked him how the filming was going. "Great." Was it a feature length? "Yeah." And would it premiere in the spring? "No, not until next fall." I  must have groan or made some name mark, because he looked up from the signing, gave the cutest smirk, and said, "Patience...." 

     It was then that he noticed the Rupert badge I was wearing. I had gotten it from Selfridge department store after going through their Christmas grotto, which was"Rupert Meets Father Christmas." He said, "What's that?" And I stupidly replied, "It's Rupert." He was holding on to the badge and was about to say something when I thought about how I had wanted to ask him about Kenya, and rudely interrupted him. I'll always wonder what he was going to say to me.

    I told him I'd been to Kenya and had seen his signature at Tree Tops. Could he remember signing in as Hunt Hansen? This was a trip 16 years back, mind you. He said, "Yes, that name sounded familiar." I asked if he enjoyed Kenya, and he smiled and had sort of a faraway look when he said "yes." Then he really startled me by asking if I'd liked Kenya. Had I stayed all night at the Tree Tops to see the animals, and what animals did I see? I rambled on about how great the photography was, how I loved the animals, and how I slept through the rhino at the Tree Tops. People knock on your door if they spot an uncommon animal, and I slept through it all and how I never did see one.

     I stopped to take a breath and probably just shut me up, he took my hand and shook it and said, "You're going back tomorrow then?"  And when I nodded, he said, "Well, have a good journey.  Tarrah." John Hamel, who had been standing quietly by the whole time, came forward, and they proceeded to unlock the gate. I started skipping down the street when I realized they were still there, so I stopped and watched them fumble with the lock. Don't know what the problem was. They finally got it open, and I watched Paul step inside. I never took my eyes off of him until the top of his head disappeared into the front door.

     I danced all the way back to my friend's place with a huge grin plastered on my face. I stopping once to examine my autograph. "All the best. Paul McCartney" with a lovely little face he'd drawn. I still had the grin on my face when I boarded the jet the next morning. And need I add that I didn't need a plane to fly home. I had the icing on my cake after all.