Silly Guy

... сердцу?...

inspired by fic: "Вторая волна"

The ex-Beatle rushed to help pull an unconscious 14-month-old girl from the mangled wreck of her pram, which had been slammed by a speeding car.

He then comforted the girls dying Japanese nanny for half an hour until the ambulance arrived.

“It occurred in October of 1980 in the tiny village of Tenterden, in Kent. Wings had been rehearsing in a manor house rented from prominent London publisher Martin Miller when they heard the terrible sounds of a car crash outside the main gates.

Laine recalls: “Apparently, this young Japanese au pair girl who worked for the Millers was taking their infant daughter, Cara, for a walk in her pram when this supposedly drunken driver tried to overtake another car and knocked them both down. The baby flew up into the air and landed unhurt by a hedgerow, but the poor au pair was very badly injured.”

“I was actually the first to reach her, but Paul dove right in and started nursing her, trying to do what he could.”

“Paul was just saying things like, ‘It’ll be alright, luv, don’t worry,’ but we were getting no response. At one point he glanced over at me and slowly shook his head. He knew. We both knew. Still, he just sat there stroking her long black hair, talking and sometimes even singing softly as she lay there dying.“

Apparently out of respect for the victim of the crash and family Paul had his team enforce a tight media ban on his involvement.

Much more detail here! (Warning for graphic descriptions of injury and death) I generally take Giuliano with a grain of salt but it appears to be corroborated in several places, this clipping and a blog post from an acquaintance of the child’s family.

For McCartney the spectre of untimely death was nothing new. Throughout his turbulent life he has had to endure the unnatural passing of not only his mother, Mary, but also Beatles bassist Stuart Sutcliffe, Brian Epstein, Wings guitarist Jimmy McCulloch, as well as his close friend, Keith Moon. Although deeply moved, he was generally quite stoic. Ironically, it took the tragic death of a stranger to emotionally uncork the naturally reserved McCartney and force him to begin to come to terms with the tenuous nature of his own life journey. It occurred in October of 1980 in the tiny village of Tenterden, in Kent. Wings had been rehearsing in a manor house rented from prominent London publisher Martin Miller when they heard the terrible sounds of a car crash outside the main gates. Laine recalls: “Apparently, this young Japanese au pair girl who worked for the Millers was taking their infant daughter, Cara, for a walk in her pram when this supposedly drunken driver tried to overtake another car and knocked them both down. The baby flew up into the air and landed unhurt by a hedgerow, but the poor au pair was very badly injured.”

Dashing outside, McCartney and Laine instructed Wings’ road manager Trevor Jones to get the van and drive the little girl and her hysterical mother to a nearby hospital while they did what they could for the semi-conscious young woman until the summoned medical help arrived.

I was actually the first to reach her, but Paul dove right in and started nursing her, trying to do what he could. I mean he certainly wasn’t frightened of blood. It was obvious to both of us she had suffered very severe internal injuries and that unless there was some kind of miracle she probably wouldn’t make it. I remember there was blood pouring out of her ears, and her eyes were rolled way back in her head. It was just terrible.

To make matters worse, being so far out in the countryside the ambulance took well over an hour to wind its way through the area’s twisting, largely unmarked, lanes. McCartney, however, never moved an inch, all the while sitting there by the side of the road, cradling her head in his lap. Laine reflects: “Paul was just saying things like, ‘It’ll be alright, luv, don’t worry,’ but we were getting no response. At one point he glanced over at me and slowly shook his head. He knew. We both knew. Still, he just sat there stroking her long black hair, talking and sometimes even singing softly as she lay there dying.”

That evening, in an East Sussex hospital, twenty-one-year-old Hisako Kawahara died of her injuries. Out of respect for the privacy of the Kawahara and Miller families, McCartney ordered his London office to enforce a tight media ban on his assistance.

“I’m a bit of a cover-up,” McCartney commented in October of 1986. “There are many people like me in the world who don’t find it easy to have public grief. But that was one of the things that brought John and I very close together. We used to talk about it, being sixteen or seventeen. We actually used to know how people felt when they said, ‘How’s your mother?’ and we’d say, ‘Well, she’s dead.’ We almost had a sort of joke; we’d have to say, ‘It’s alright, don’t worry.’ We’d both lost our mothers. It was never really spoken about much; no-one really spoke about anything real. There was a famous expression: ‘Don’t get real on me, man.‘”

Cosmically strange how this happened in October 1980, John’s birth month, when only a few months later he would also die on the street in unimaginable tragedy.

Here today

Something something showtime yuri

(This inspired by @ BethanyMcl6496 on twt)

Rig: @zayjax

Now, to the theory...

fuck it, human bubble

digital bubbles purr to comfort their favourite ringmasters

I think this is how I’ll draw him now… maybe idk