A Day in the Life

Catriona Child

Naaaaaa naaaaaa naaaaaa na na na na, na na na na Hey Jude. Just the men, come on boys. Naaaaaa naaaaaa naaaaaa na na na na, na na na na Hey Jude. Now just the girls, come on ladies. Naaaaaa naaaaaa naaaaaa na na na na, na na na na Hey Jude. I liked it so much I want to hear the girls again. Naaaaaa naaaaaa naaaaaa na na na na, na na na na Hey Jude.

Theres something really special about being in a crowd with everyone singing along to the same song. What else could make you feel a strange affinity to the drunk guy next to you whos been annoying you all evening by swaying into you, and spilling beer on your trainers? What else could send tingles up your spine and make your eyes well up? Its even more amazing when the person on stage is one of your all time heroes. So here I am, standing inside Anfield with Paul McCartney on stage. THE Paul McCartney, an actual Beatle.

As wed stood outside earlier, queuing to get in, wed been entertained by a local support act. A Liverpudlian guy with microphone and portable amp had been telling us such facts as - Paul McCartney wont get you into heaven, Ive spoken to the Lord on many occasions and this is not the way. And - Come with me now, forget Paul McCartney, I can show you the way to the Lord. Fortunately for Paul most people seemed intent on going into the concert. I certainly was, this was something Id been waiting my whole life for.

Flashback to around fifteen years ago. Im thirteen and on a school trip. One of the older girls puts on a tape. Shes really cool, wearing handmade clothes, and confident enough that the whole bus will enjoy her music selection.

Daang! Its been a hard days night. Ive heard of the Beatles. Ive listened to them before but something about hearing this album, at this time grabs me. It grabs me, takes hold of me and doesnt let me go. Ive never heard anything so amazing. The bus stops at a service station and I scrape my money together. I can hear my mums words in the back of my head but I choose to ignore them.

Try not to spend it unless you really have to, and bring back change if you can. I buy my first ever Beatles album. The blue one, on cassette so I can listen to it on my personal stereo. I have it on repeat for the rest of the trip. Ive never heard this later side of them before; its so weird but so mesmerising. I feel like Ive opened up a part of me that was hiding.

I arrive home and announce to my family that I am now a Beatles fan.

Luckily for me my mum works with someone who really is a Beatles fan. I buy a pile of blank tapes and he records every album for me. I start at the start and listen to their whole career in about three days. Then I go back to the start and listen again. I continue until I know all the songs, all the words; I know which voice belongs to which Beatle, I know the backing vocals.

I cant get enough. My mums friend gives me more and more tapes; rare stuff, Christmas albums, outtakes and bootlegs. I absorb them all and still cant get enough Beatles.

Im naive enough to think that they belong to me. I write a letter to Ringo thinking hell be so pleased that someone remembers him. Friends and family buy me books and videos and I realise how dumb Ive been. The whole world still remembers them.

My parents realising its not a phase take me to Liverpool for my birthday. I use up rolls of film. Penny Lane, the Cavern, Georges house, the bus stop where Paul used to get the bus.

Do you not want us to be in some of the photos? My dad asks.

We go on the Magical Mystery Tour and I cant believe that there are people who dont get off the bus at Strawberry Fields because the ground is muddy. Its Strawberry Fields; STRAWBERRY FIELDS! Who cares about shoes?

My American flatmate at university suggests a weekend in London.

Where do ya wanna visit? She asks listing Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square, St. Paul's.

Abbey Road, I reply.

While were there she saves me from getting hit by a car when I run into the road with excitement.

Getting up one morning for my first proper job, I have the TV on mute and notice that GMTV are playing a montage of George Harrison. I know straight away without having to turn the sound on and burst out crying.

I meet my boyfriend and on our first trip away together we visit New York. I drag him round Johns memorial and the Dakota building. I see a Japanese lady feeding the terrapins by the pond in central park and think its Yoko.

I watch The Who headline T in the Park. Zac Starkey plays drums; I screw up my eyes and pretend its Ringo.

So here I am at Anfield. Im about ten rows from the front, and am watching and listening to a real live Beatle. The Beatles have been with me at every step while growing up and here I am watching and listening to one. He doesnt disappoint.

As well as the songs and the music, there are pyrotechnics, George Harrisons ukulele, even a John solo song. Although if Im being honest Paul could stand there and whistle and Id be happy.

Hes cheesy, but hes written a few good songs, my boyfriend says as we leave after the concert, fireworks going off above us.

Paul McCartney may not get me into Heaven but hes done a pretty good job of trying.