The World Spinning Round (Beatles/Paul McCartney)

8. The Cat Rides at Umbrella Time

July 1968
Paul

Tuesday afternoon was spent holed up in a tiny BBC outpost in Yorkshire, being interviewed by Tony Cliff. I was in the area for a recording with The Black Dyke Mills Band, so I'd been more than happy to pop over for an intimate chat that would be broadcast to the North of England.

"Paul," Tony said in his cozy voice that begged that one spill their secrets. "Now that you've been back from India for a few months, have you reflected on what you took away from it all? Was it time well spent?"

"Well," I replied, taking a drag of my cigarette and desperately trying not to give in to the urge to look directly at the cameras. "I think I can speak for all of the Beatles when I say we wanted to experience something new and different. We felt that perhaps we were limited...spiritually, I mean... by the world we were living in, and we wanted to see if there was something more."

"And was there?"

I exhaled and nodded. "Oh, sure. The type of meditation we practiced allowed us to perceive things differently... y'know, sounds, colors, that sort of thing... things that wouldn't be available to us otherwise."

"And did you, as the kids say, open your mind?"

I laughed. "My mind expanded, certainly."

He leaned back and peered at me over his round wire spectacles. Based on the headlines in the papers the past few days, I had a pretty good idea of what he'd ask next.

"There's been a lot in the papers about John Lennon's romantic life."

I just nodded and took another drag, trying to look indifferent.

"Care to offer any insight?"

I exhaled and leaned forward to smash the cigarette into the ashtray. Once again, I resisted the urge to look at the camera.

"Yoko's a great artist, and she-- well, she has a unique way of experiencing the world. As an artist, I mean."

"Do you two get along, then?"

"Yeah, sure," I replied. "We're all mates, you know. She seems like a fine person."

Later, I would regret my choice of words. I could've said that she was a brilliant person, a fantastic person. But I'd chosen 'fine.' In my defense, I meant 'fine' as being of high quality, but that got twisted by the press and, more importantly, by John.

Tony glanced down at his notes and then back up to me. I'd done thousands of interviews by this point, and I knew that look. He was going off-script, and I wasn't going to like the question.

"Speaking of romantic lives, quite a lot was made of your relationship with Alice Edwards, the daughter of the Prime Minister."

I stiffened slightly, then forced my shoulders to relax. That was my trick to seeming in control of my environment:  shoulders down, one corner of my mouth turned up in the beginning of a jaunty grin.

"Quite a lot was made of it, yes."

"Are you two still on good terms?"

I glanced at the camera for a moment, then back at Tony. I'd only commented on this once publicly. Which is more than I'd commented on it privately. I hadn't actually told anyone what had happened. Well, except John. The others... well, I assumed they'd figured that it must have been my roving eye that ended everything. No need to confirm or deny common knowledge.

I leaned forward and rested an elbow on my knee.

"Alice is a great girl--"

The best, really.