Carol visits George at Kinfauns

Carol Bedford and George Harrison.    April 5, 1969

Read all about it

In the postscript of Carol Bedford's book Waiting for the Beatles she write a short paragraph about the last time she ever heard from George.   Interestingly enough I found that correspondence to Carol up for auction in an old, outdated auction house listing online.

Now before I get 10,000 emails, let me say that I do not know Carol Bedford.  I have never known Carol Bedford.  I do not know where she lives or if she is still alive.   It is amazing to me just how many people out there are looking for Carol.   It is no wonder that so many of the Apple Scruffs like to remain anonymous.  And then there are people like me who are always bugging them.

Anyhow this is what Carol wrote:

But I did hear from him again-- one last contact between us.  In 1975, I listened to George's new album Extra Texture:  Read all about it.  The first track on side one was You, the song he had told me about at the Apple Christmas party in 1971.  He had finally recorded it, four years after writing it.  I wrote a cheerful, chatty note to George to thank him for recording it.  The song would always bring back happy memories for me.  By return post, I received George's letter.  It was addressed to "Carol Bedford" which pleased me because I had signed "Carol from Texas" 

Apple Scruffs come to dinner

As I have mentioned before, I am trying my best to do research on the famous Apple Scruffs. I have learned a lot and debunked a lot of myths that I once believed about them. However, they remain to be a mysterious bunch. (Not that I blame them...) I recently realized that Rolling Stone did an entire article about the Apple Scruffs in the December 24, 1970 issue. I have every issue of Rolling Stone from 1967-2007 on my computer, so I found the R.S. article on the Scruffs and read it. Then I remembered that I had read something in Carol Bedford's book about it. I guess they were misquoted in this article and it isn't that great of an article. But nonetheless, I spend most of my evening typing this all out, so I am posting it. Here is what it says in Carol's book about the article.

In November, George arranged an interview for Apple Scruffs with Rolling Stone magazine. We were surprised, to say the least, but Terry told us George thought the world should know about 'the world's most loyal fans.' Apparently, Rolling Stone were intrigued about us. They had heard George's song about us and wanted to know who or what we were.

Margo, Jill, Lucy, Wendy, Cathy and I went to Andrew Bailey's apartment on a rainy night. We sat on the floor around a coffee table facing Andrew and Richard DiLello., Apple's photographer. We chatted for a couple of hours, trying to explain the Apple Scruffs.

The article came out a couple of weeks later. They took our conversation and either cut it short, so that what appeared seemed out of context, or they simply and bluntly misquoted us.

On Monday, George came out of Apple. He asked me how the interview had gone.

"They misquoted us," I told him.

"Now you know how it feels," George snapped.

Apple Scruffs Come to Dinner

"I’ve watched you sitting there
Seen the passers by all stare
Like you have no place to go
But there’s so much they don’t know
About Apple Scruffs"
From George Harrison’s album All Things Must Pass

By Andrew Bailey

London-“We were standing outside Abbey Road Studios at 6 o’clock on a Saturday morning,” Margo said on the night the Apple Scruffs came round for dinner. Not all 16 Scruffs made it through the rain, but the six who did arrive brought wine and looked happy. Margo, who works for Apple as a tea girl, recalled how they first heard George’s dedication to the Scruffs, which appears on his new album. “Mal Evans came out of the studio and told us to come in and listen to something. It was so beautiful. We didn’t know what to do and we cried. After they played the song we filed out into the rain again. I remember that night …. We took an old-fashioned Beatle blanket with us, the sort with pictures in the corners.”

The Apple Scruffs really started ages ago but the dozen and half girls who spend most of their non-working hours keeping an eye on all Beatle activity only organized themselves into an exclusive “freemasonry” about a year ago. Then they started producing their own monthly magazine, The Apple Scruffs Book. Besides hanging around on the steps of Apple headquarters in Savile Row the Scruffs do duty outside any studio where there is a Beatle at work.

Of course there are other dedicated Beatle fans who go through the same motions as the Scuffs. Fans who travel to Savile Row to catch a glimpse of a Beatle on his five-yard dash from the heavy white front door of Apple to the waiting car, or just to soak up the Beatles vibes, pay homage, wonder at it all. But there is only a handful of genuine Apple Scruffs.

Carol, who first caught the bug watching the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan show back home in the States, describes in a breathy rush her first confrontation with her feeling for the cuddly foursome. “Well, you go to their concert when they come to your city, don’t you, and I’m standing there with my brother and he says now Carol you aren’t going to scream are you and I say you’ve gotta be kidding what do you think I am and then it just comes out and kept on getting louder like a snowball growing. And now you just can’t decide one day to throw away all your Beatle photos and everything. Anyway this is what I want. Some girls may be in love and going to get married. Well, right now … maybe it fills a “gap.”

Fills a gap between what, is asked. Another Scruff, Kathy, made of less dreamy stuff than Carol, puts up her defenses. “That’s too easy an explanation of what the Scruffs are about.” Speaking for the first time, Jill says in a small voice, “It’s the thing itself, kin its own way, that’s important.”

The Scruffs are sick of glib explanations. “One paper called us nuns,” says Wendy. A nice idea that in principle; a group of girls “married” to four saints from Liverpool. It fits in with a piece in the Scruffs magazine which listed losing one’s virginity as a reason for quitting the Scruffs. “Some of the original Scruffs have left, to get married, “explained Carol. “Tina, Lizzie, Joan…” She trails off. “Look we know that none of us is ever going to marry a Beatle, so forget that idea.”
“And don’t,” warns Chris, darkly “write any of that crap about ‘mother instinct.’”

Viewed from the steps of Apple the world’s a different place. It’s a good day when you get an unexpected smile from a visitor to Apple. It’s a bad day when the tourist points at you and snidely shouts, “They went out the back door.” It’s a normal day for the Scruffs to work at their regular jobs, maybe manage an hour outside Apple during the lunch break. It’s a special day when one of THEM is in the building. A recording session could mean an all-night sitting.
There are veteran Scruffs of seven years’ standing and some newer recruits. Most have been through the standard fan routine. “We’ve all done the Liverpool pilgrimage bit,” says Wendy.
They are older now, past that sort of thing. Their collection of Beatle goodies – guitar strings, sheets, cigarette ends, toys, cups – are a reminder of those days.

They don’t fully deserve the “scruffy” tag but they are a little proud of not being part of the West End mod-fashion rat race. That’s children. “We used to actually dress up to go to EMI studios but what’s the point. By 7 o’clock the next morning your face has black lines across it form the mascara.”

“It used to be a big thing if you waiting around somewhere for really long periods,” says Margo, “we used to say, ‘Wow it’s been 19 hours and I’m fagged out.’ Like the last day they were doing the White album they went in at teatime and came out the following lunchtime. And I don’t think they even saw us. Paul fell down the steps … they were in the front two rooms and John kept looking out and laughing. We were happy to have done 18 hours, we were so proud of it. And then everyone else got hold of the idea and made a big thing of it. And of course, really it’s just a load of bull.”

Someone wrote that to be a scruff you had to put in a certain number of hours before being eligible. ‘We just said that for a laugh,” says Chris, sounding weary of being misunderstood. “We’re getting a little sick of people now…”

The worst date on the Apple Scruffs calendar was the day Paul got married. “Out of all the Apple Scruffs I’d day that 90 percent were for Paul in the beginning,” says Margo, “it’s still the same now underneath. Everyone like John, but Paul…”

Then what?
“Paul got married. You know, we could sense the end of the Beatles coming. It was obvious form the individual attitudes. We could tell form their expressions as they went in and came out. You could tell.”

They went to Paul’s house the day they heard he was going to get married. They wrote about it in their magazine. Linda arrived at Paul’s house, which was surrounded by photographers and reporters. The Scruffs stood in front of the house, easy targets for the cameras searching for fans weeping at the news of Paul’s forthcoming marriage.

“In a moment of temper we pushed the gates open. They slammed hard. Back and forth. It was very quiet. Linda appeared at the doorstep, “Would you mind closing the gates,” she said, in the most ridiculous London accent. “Yes” we shouted. Then down the steps she came, smiling at the photographers and then closed the gate quietly. The reporters’ faces were a funny sight.
“As soon as she’d gone in we pushed the gates open again and she came out – faster this time – and she slammed them closed; but they sprang open, so embarrassed in front of us, she had to walk back and close them again. She got to the top of the steps and the gate flew wide, but at that moment Mr. Beatle himself arrived in Peter Asher’s car, so what with us trying to close the gate again, Linda on the other side (knowing Paul had just arrived) trying to pull them open, and Paul trying to get to the gates and photographer /reporters asking questions … Paul finally got behind the gates and asked everyone to wait a few minutes. He went in, then came back out again – he’d changed into a pink jumper – there must have been 20 to 30 reporters asking questions plus taking pics, we just stood to one side of the gate and couldn’t hear much of what he was saying, only that everyone would have to get here early to catch him. L.N ran off down to the end of the road, a couple of others followed. C. asked if it was tomorrow. He said, “Not while Bessie’s here (meaning the press), and we were satisfied that he’d see us later. The reporters looked at us puzzled, but they had got what they came for and were happy.

“Half an hour later it was very quiet, except for a few sobs, and then we decided that we had to see him just once more. We opened the gates and walked slowly in. Someone rang the doorbell. Waited, no one came, rang again. Rang again. Paul answered. We just stood there. God what do we say? “Yes, what do you want?” he said, as if we’d just come to borrow sugar. C. ran out. Someone asked if it was tomorrow, and he said, “Tomorrow.” It went quiet again.

“What’s this – Heartbreak Hotel? What do you think I am a 26 year old queer never to get married? Oh, stick around kids!” We just looked at each other. Oh God, Paul, what have we done now. All we wanted to do was stand there and talk awhile. What was the point in shouting at us like that? We stood there, tears falling but there was no sound.

“He reappeared at the door –with his coat on. We were embarrassed now, he could see our tears. He started talking about anything but nobody was listening much. He led us to the gates and talked with us for about an hour. He talked and talked. He said he couldn’t understand women, and how the news would go down in America, how the girls over there would react. Then he proceeded to talk about us and our rival groups and how, whenever he does something we don’t like, he gets the foreman coming up and telling him off. It was all true. He’d cheered us up and we were soon laughing at his jokes and his way of saying things.

“We talked for ages; most of it has been forgotten, small things. He said he loved Yoko, and how he never liked her at first and how different everything seems now, with John and the others – and he also said he’d marry us all – if the law would let him!

“He had to go in. Linda kept looking out of the window. It was obvious she was annoyed. We were much happier now, we learned a great deal that night.”

Linda hasn’t been forgiven. In most issues of the magazine, there are below the belt digs at her. The rest is filled with gossip, press clippings, replies to letters, competitions, cartoons, cracking jokes (Driver to garage mechanic: Have you got a foot pump? Why have you got flat feet?), explanation of Scuff language (I don’t care mean I DO care), a memorium to Mal Evan’s budgie, quotes, popularity polls of the Apple Scruffs.

Derek Taylor, The Beatles press officer (observed by a Scruff to “only come in on Thursdays to pick up his money but more recently coming in early every day”) reckons that the Scruff magazine saved Apple a lot of work. “When the Beatles Monthly packed in, “he explains, “we thought about producing a successor. But the Scruffs have done it for us. Their game is knowledge and expertise. They’ve built up a reservoir of love and malice. I’d hate to see them fall apart by becoming completely respectable. They miss very little of what goes on in Apple. They can polish or demolish your image.”

During the tourist season the front of Apple can become surrounded by a swarm of multi-national Beatle fans. They seem to come in waves. A week of Swedish. A day of Icelandic. A heavy gathering of Italians. Two chicks from the States over to spend a month on the steps, becoming desperate towards the end of their stay for somebody to talk to. Day-Trippers. Temporaries. Then an overdose of noisy French and German kids.

Jill remembers one nasty encounter. “There was this boy called Klaus who decided he wanted to kiss George. George came out of Apple and had to leap back about six feet. The French and Germans get violent. A lot of the blokes who come around are queer.”

But not Tommy, the only official boy Scruff. He’s still talked about. An American who got drafted from Savile Row to Vietnam. There are other male guest Scuffs like Derek Taylor, Mal Evans, Jack Oliver, Peter Brown (the Apple hierarchy) and then there’s Prince Charles and even Prime Minister Edward Heath. Ringo paid their 60c entrance fee.

The Scruffs annoy many of the tourists-fans. “They think we are in the way of them taking photos, “says Kathy. “One time he had an argument. One bloke grabbed an iron bar. We tend to think that everyone else should behave like we do.

“We are trying to protect the Beatles in a way. Like by pointing out to someone about to pop off a flash bulb in Ringo’s face that he has to drive away immediately and his sight might be impaired. But then they turn nasty and act like they are jealous. You’re got to be cool and sincere to be a Scruff. Out of hundreds we’ve whittled the true ones to just the present few.”
The night the Apple Scruffs came round for dinner started to wind up. Some had talked too much. Others said too little. One of them said, “We were dreading coming here tonight for one reason. We thought you were going to turn round and say, “Why do you do it?” Everyone asks that. And you just can’t explain it. They call us nuns, teenyboppers, groupies. Only a few can understand us. Derek and George – and Paul at one time. Paul probably more than anyone else. Most people think we’re frustrated in some sense.”

They aren’t frustrated, abnormal. Just lost their way in time a little perhaps.
“When we see them come out after a hard night at the studio we have sympathy with them. You think ‘Ha (sigh) here he comes.’ We all have the mother instinct but you should hear us swear if they don’t come out.”
Margo said, “To be a good Scruff you have to be two-faced. We call the hell out of them if they are away somewhere and then act all sweet when we see them.”
“It’s like a wife saying to a husband ‘you goddamn bastard, why aren’t you here….”

Here's to you!

There is a story in Carol Bedford's book, Waiting for the Beatles that I believe go along with these photos of George. (thetop one does for sure!) In the book, Carol is basically complaining about an American fan named Alfie who is very thin and beautiful and is extremely obvious about her feelings for George. Carol, of course, does not like sharing George with an "outsider" and is angry about how Alfie shows her affection to George and how George reacts.

It was a cold winter night. George came out of Trident Studios and into the garage. He was wearing his black Mongolian fur coat. Alfie grabbed, physically. She had champagne and invited him to have a farewell drink with her. he agreed. After several quick drinks, George was pleasantly mellow. Aflie kissed him and had one of the girls take pictures to prove it! I was outraged at this exhibition and jealous that I had not thought of it myself. Everyone, including Lucy and Margo, had the pictures of Alfie and George. Alfie made sure they go copies of these photos, so everyone could see and know that she and George were "meant for each other."

The day before Paul married Linda

I was lucky enough to get the book The Beatles 365 Days for free this week from Paperback Swap.com. If you aren't a member there, I do recommend becoming one because it is an awesome way to trade books and to get Beatles ones for FREE! Now I was already familiar with this book because I had checked it out of the library countless times. Here are photos that were taken on March 11, 1969 just one evening prior to Paul and Linda wedding. In the book is this quote from Carol Bedford: "I could tell just from their faces that they girls would never accept Linda. nor would they ever accept Paul getting married. He was theirs and they were his girls. as long as he was single, there was hope you might be the one... They each felt they were a special part of his life and this was about to end."

A little more Paul

I spied on the Beatles in London (part 2)

"side view of John's house."


"front view of Ringo's house":



"In front of Paul's house"



"Jane Asher's house. Paul sometimes stays on the second floor over to the left."

"George's house"

"Me holding George's cat, Corky"

"Me in front of Sibylla's--George's club. I'm standing where Paul stood the night we stared at each other."

I never got around to posting the other part of the article Carol Bedford wrote for Datebook about her 1966 trip to London. It was published in the September 1967 issue.

I went to England last summer with my Mom and my brother, Billy. We stayed two wonderful weeks in London. The first week we went to the historical sights. The second week was all mine! Guess what I did!

First I went to Paul's house because he is my favorite. I saw two girls standing under a tree. As I got out of the taxi, the two girls told me that they had thought I was Jane Asher! I couldn't have been there for more than two minutes when Mr. Kelly, Paul's gardener, came out screaming and waving a hoe at me. He said that Paul had just come in at 3 a.m. and needed rest. I looked up to see the curtains being rustled on the middle window of the second floor. Mrs. Kelly came out, and when asked if Paul and Jane were married, she answered, "No, of course not! That's a bunch of rubbish!"

Neil Aspinall drove up and went into the house. As he was coming out, one of the girls asked, "Did you touch Paul today?" "No, luv, not today," he said.

That night, my brother and I decided to go to Sibylia's, George Harrison's club. Billy and I walked down the stairs that wind around. We saw, over to the left, two coat-check girls. Billy asked them if we could speak to the manager. A tall, good-looking young man dressed in black slacks and a red/white striped shirt came over. After convincing him that we really wanted to see the club, and after paying a cover charge, we followed him to a table right in front of the dance floor. Everything was blue -- blue lights, blue rugs, blue walls, blue ceilings, blue tables, and even blue ashtrays.

At 12 o'clock, I saw Jane Asher and Paul McCartney walk in! I nearly died! She wore a brown striped suit and her hair was almost down to her waist. Paul wore tight, black slacks and a white shirt without a tie. His coat was open. They sat down opposite us, across the room. Jane sat smiling as Paul talked to her.

The young manager who had spoken to us earlier went over and asked Paul to join him and his girlfriend a their table. Paul and Jane got up and went to sit with them.

At about 1 or 2, Billy hit me in the ribs with his elbow -- Jane was walking out and Paul was coming behind her. An old woman stopped him at the door to introduce him to her daughter, who wasn't even interested! Paul was smiling, laughing and shaking hands with all the people standing around. I could tell he wanted to catch up to Jane. He gently pushed past the people and walked out. I was about ready to faint!

Wednesday night we came back to the club. WE sat there until 3 a.m. I told Billy that I would go and get a taxi while Billy went to the rest room. I went outside and told the doorman to get me a taxi.

I saw a blue, compact station wagon drive up. A man got out of the driver's side and I realized it was Mal Evans! The doorman walked over to the passenger's seat and said, "Oh Mr. McCartney, how are you tonight?" Paul got out of the car saying, "Oh you know how it is. Nothing going on, so I decided to come here." I could have fainted! I didn't' know what to do, so I just stood there. Mal and the doorman drove the car off to park it. Paul stood beside me, about 4 feet away! We were the only people on the entire street!

I stood paralyzed and looked straight ahead. I decided to look at Paul because I didn't know how long it might be before I would ever see him again. I turned my head to find that he was looking straight at me!

I didn't know what to do! I couldn't speak! If you've ever loved the Beatles, you'll know how I felt. I just stood there looking into his face. I took a step toward him and he said something to me! I Was too numb and scared to ask him what he had said.

Mal joined him and they walked into the club. I was just about to faint when Billy came out and said that he just bumped into two guys as he was coming up the stairs. Billy and I immediately went back into the club. I could not find Paul anywhere. I went into the rest room to try and calm myself. As I came out, Paul brushed past me and walked up the stairs. That was the last I saw of him!

Mal

I have been trying not to say a whole lot about the Carol Bedford book and just post the photos I scanned from the book. However, I can't keep quiet about this part of the book. So I am going to step up on my soap box and rant a bit. If you don't want to read it, that is fine.

I have always been a fan of Malcom Evans, the Beatles roadie and friend. Ever since I first saw him years ago start the Let It Be movie and play the anvil during "Maxwell's Silver Hammer" during the film, I have been drawn to him. The best reason I can give is because he physically looks like my dear Grandpa who passed away in 1994. I was very close to my Grandpa. My Grandpa was a huge man with a big heart and a kindness about him that was very gentle. He could be rough if he needed to be, but around me, he was like a teddy bear. And from what I have read, Mal Evans was the exact same way. Mal is my all time favorite non-Beatles, Beatles person (if you know what I mean) and I enjoy reading about his kindness, especially to the fans who waited outside the studios.

So when Carol claimed that Mal tried to force himself on her, I had an issue with that accusation. I am not saying that Carol just made up this story for her book, but the way I see it is that her book was written in 1984 and Mal was killed in 1976. Mal was unable to defend himself or add his side of the story. Add this story to her book really wasn't important to the book and I personally think it should have been left out, especially since Mal is no longer here to tell his side.

Otherwise I enjoyed the book. There were some stories in there that I thought to myself, "hmmm...I doubt it happened like THAT..." but many of the stories were believable and even if they weren't, it still gave a good idea of what it was like to leave home and move to London to "Beatle-watch." I recommend the book for fans to read, but I would warn them to not believe everything in the book. Carol seemed like she was a troubled person and this comes across to me. However, she also seemed like a sincere Beatles fan who wanted the world to know the truth about Beatles fans, especially after John's murder. Ok...enough about the book.

Lookin' good George!

I think George is looking exceptionally good in these fan photos....nice...

Two versions of the same story

As I have mentioned, I am currently in the middle of reading Carol Bedford's book "Waiting for the Beatles." I have been enjoying reading it, although I honestly question the validity of some of her stories. Nonetheless it has been a fun book to read and I am glad that I finally got the chance to read it. Strangely enough I also purchased a teen magazine called Teen Datebook and I purchased the September 1967 issue which happens to have an article written by Carol Bedford about her visit to England with her mother and brother in 1966. Here are the photos from part of that article. The first story is the one from the Teen Datebook and the 2nd one is the same story from the book, "Waiting for the Beatles." I will let you decide what you think about it. But I found some glaring contradictions.

Thursday I met six English girls and we all went to Surrey to see the other three Beatles. First, we went to George's only to be told that he had gone to John's. As we were waiting for the bus to John's one of the girls saw George's car parked in front of the grocery mart. We ran into the store and found Patti Boyd Harrison!

She wore a short, pink jersey dress with a purple bag lined in pink. Her blonde hair was in a slight flip on the sides. She was really nice and so cute. she was pushing a grocery cart that was overflowing. Patti told us that the store would not accept her checks and she did not think she had enough money with her to pay for the groceries. I could not believe it! Here was a Beatle's wife worried about money!

She signed autographs and talked to us about the new Beatles LP. I saw her counting out her money to pay for the groceries. Several men were whistling at her and she blushed as she picked up her change. She came outside carrying a box, followed by two men also carrying boxes. I asked her if she would stop, so I could take a picture. She stopped, put the box down, and smoothed her hair back. I took two more and then our bus had come.

We went up to John's and Ringo's. At Ringo's one of the girls went inside the open gate to take a picture of the house. "Get out!" came a scream from within. It was Ringo. We went to the back of the house to try and look over the fence. I turned around to see a huge airdale dog growling at me! Ringo's workmen had let him out! The gardener came around and asked, "Why did you let the dogs out?" We started walking off.

We went back to George's. I saw George waving to us from a large window by the door. I could see Patti walking around inside the house. George was talking on a white telephone. He wore a dark suit with a turtleneck sweater. The police arrived and I asked if George had called them. "This is one of the few times that Mr. Harrison has NOT called us," they said. I plan to return to England this year. Anybody want to come along? Carol Bedford Age 16, Dallas, Texas.

Except from book.....


Ruth arranged to meet me the next day at one of the train stations. We were going to travel out to Weybridge and Esher. George Harrison was living in Esher with his wife, Pattie Boyd, John Lennon was married to Cynthia and they lived in Weybridge, as did Ringo and Maureen.

Our first stop was Esher. Once there we walked past a grocery store and Ruth shouted, "that's George's mini!" It was a bright orange Mini with all sorts of Indian designs painted on it. We went into the supermarket to see if George was inside. He wasn't, but Pattie was.

Pattie was lovely. You could instantly understand why she was a top model. She was wearing a Foale and Tuffin pink crepe mini dress. It was one of the first minis I had seen. They were just coming into fashion. She was slightly shy when Ruth and I walked up to her. She knew Ruth and Ruth gave her a photograph of George taken at their home. Pattie was very pleased with this commenting that it was a good picture of George and she didn't have many. She appeared very honored that Ruth had given her a copy.

When she was leaving, she was having trouble carrying her box of groceries and trying to open the car door at the same time. To make matters worse, a couple of men were whistling and cat-calling to her. She was getting very embarrassed. Ruth took the box so Pattie could open the door and get in the car.

Ruth told Pattie we were "doing the rounds", going to all their houses. Did Pattie know if any of them were at home? Pattie said George was out until about five and then both of them were going out to visit friends. She said John and Ringo were in, as far as she knew because George had called them earlier to chat. She then thanked Ruth for help with the groceries, waved goodbye and shouted as she drove off "Happy hunting. hope you see them today."

WE decided to go straight to Weybridge and then back to George's after five. We took a short bus journey and when we disembarked we were in the Weybridge area. We had quite a lengthy walk, though before we would reach John's house. We passed a country club where we saw several couples playing tennis. Weybridge was so green and wooded. As we walked along, I kept straining to see the luxurious houses set behind thick clusters of trees. We started up a rather long incline. I was just on the point to getting winded when I saw a huge wooden gate. Ruth said this was John's house. I looked through the open gates and saw a very long curved driveway that led up to a huge house. Ruth proceeded to walk up the drive. I hesitated, staring at the "No Trespassing" sign, but my curiosity forced me to follow her. Also, I Was a bit scared and wanted to stay with her.

As we followed the curve in the driveway, I noticed that the front door to the house was in the back. Across from this "front" door was the garage. Ruth looked and said he was home because both cars were in the garage. Ruth knew the cars they drove and could tell if they were in or not by the evidence of the car.

She went up to the door and did something I would have thought impossible. She rang the doorbell. A stocky lady answered, "Hello Ruthie! How are you? Haven't seen you round for a while." "Hi" Ruth said. "Yeah I am tied up with a lot of baby sitting lately. I'm showing an American girl the sights. " Ruth pointed to me and laughed. I smiled, still in shock. "Is he in?" she asked the housekeeper simply. The lady leaned close to Ruth and whispered something in her ear. "Come on. Let's go," Ruth said to me. Once we reached the gate, Ruth told me what the housekeeper had said. "She told me John was in, but in a bad mood and didn't want to see anyone. When John's in a mood, it's best not to bother him."

We had reached Ringo's house which was small in scale and close to the lane than John's. Ruth again rang the bell. There was a shout from an upstairs window. We backed up so we could see who was shouting. Ringo's head was sticking out. "Hello Ruth!" He cried when he saw her. I could see Maureen behind him. "Hi Ringo. We came from a visit." "I can't today Ruth, really busy. I'm about to go out. Some other time?" "Sure, see you soon. Bye." Ruth called. "Bye," Ringo and Maureen waved their greetings and moved away from the window. Ruth looked at her watch and said, "We'd better get back to George's. It's getting close to five."

We went up the gravel path passing all kinds of semi-modern bungalows. Ruth said Esher was good for retired colonels and such. We went up to their house. It was white, L-shaped bungalow set in a clearing with trees surrounding it. Like John's house, there a high wooden fence around the property and it had a curving driveway. Margaret, George's housekeeper, came out of the house. She was going home for the day but, seeing Ruth, she stopped for a chat. She said that Pattie had come in the house and told George that the girls were very nice to her. She told him about the trouble she had getting into her car and avoiding the two men. We then saw George standing in a full-length window. He was talking on the telephone and when he saw us he waved. Margaret said Pattie and George were coming out soon because they have a dinner engagement. We decided we could only wait half and hour because it was getting dark. We could no longer wait for George and Pattie to come out, so we walked back to the train station to head back to London. I told Ruth I would return, especially now that I knew it was possible to know the Beatles.

Waiting for the Beates....

Carol Bedford wrote a book in the 1980's about her time waiting outside the studio and Beatles' homes called "Waiting for the Beatles." I have heard some pretty bad things about the book, but I would really like the opportunity to read it myself and see what I think. I actually enjoy reading trashy Beatles books (heck...I read Francie Schwartz book!) and have learned to take everything written in them with a grain of salt. However, this particular book is next to impossible to find! It really frustrates me. Does anyone know where I can purchase "Waiting for the Beatles" for under $75??? I am serious. I would really like to read it. Here is a photo I had in my files and just recently realized what it was. It is Carol Bedford with George in 1969 at Kinfauns.

Here are a couple of extremely professional looking fan photos taken at Friar Park.