âOne night in December 1968, while we were staying in a rented house in Praia da Luz in the Algarve, we were woken by a tremendous banging and shouting on the outside gate. We thought at first it was some fishermen on the way home, having drunk too much. Our house, formerly a sardine factory, was right on the beach, with a large garden and high wall all the way round. I then realized my name was being shouted out by someone with a strong Liverpool accent. 'Wake up, Hunter Davies, you bugger!' I thought. at first, it might be John, as the voice was so raucous. I got up and went into the garden and opened up the big gates, and there was Paul, standing with a strange woman I had never seen before and a young girl, of about five or six.
That evening, back in London, Paul simply decided that he would come out and have a holiday with me. I had been in touch with all of them and had sent Paul a postcard inviting him to stay, so he knew where I was, though we were not on the telephone. When the idea had suddenly come into his head, Neil was detailed to get plane times. There were none that evening. Paul, of course, could not wait for the next day. Having thought of the plan, he wanted it now. Instant satisfaction. So a private plane was hired and told to be ready for Paul's pleasure. It landed at Faro in the middle of the night, much to everyone's surprise. Faro airport had opened only the previous year and was still pretty primitive, hardly used to scheduled flights, never mind private executive jets.â
â Hunter Davies ( The Beatles: The Authorized Biography )
discoholicmusic
theartofmadeline
izzy806
baratheonpilled
andulkaphoto
snowghoul
jacobvanloon
2087
