![]() ![]() God, what I wouldn't give to be back with Bob. I'm starting to wonder if anything I've done has ever made him happy. Out of desperation I even went as far as saying I wouldn't play at all, a long as it made him happy. Like today, I told him I'd play anything anything he wanted me to play. Like he was still the almost adult and I was the snotty nosed kid who still owed him a favour for getting him into the band,Īs much as I hate to admit it, Paul's musical bullying still worked sometimes. He thought he could still boss me about like I was fifteen and he was sixteen. Trapped in the group and squashed under Paul's ever inflating ego. I couldn't do much to comfort my old friend until the hotel room door was shut behind us. ![]() I merely stood up and told him to come along upstairs. I didn't bother getting a drink for myself then. Voice nearly gone." George shook his head and bit his lip hard before draining his glass. I was reluctant to bring up my own problems. "That's got to be a downer," I admitted distantly. "Apart from the missis leaving me for Eric Clapton?" I sat down asked carefully if there was something on his mind. Maybe he was worried I wasn't going to show. He was staring worriedly into his half empty glass. I met George down in the bar as we'd planned. You Know that I'm No Good - Amy Winehouse That was the best I could get out of him. Then Bob muttered that he might actually be able to make it. But, ye see, this concert's really important to Ravi. I mean, it'd be great to see you again anyway, even if you just drop by. ![]() "Is that the only reason you're calling me. "It'll do you good to get out on stage again. His silence in reply to my pleas spoke volumes, as did the evasive attitude when he did respond verbally. "Look, George, I don't know if I can make it." I told him that I could barely remember my own name, let alone what I did on a record two years ago.īob chuckled again. It really must have been some night if I hadn't recognised one of our songs. I looked at him in confusion, until John Lennon's voice bled through into my sluggish brain. Did you really play your part backwards on this?" "That's why I didn't want to disturb you. I defended myself by pointing out it had been a pretty wild night. "Afternoon, George," Bob corrected with a wry chuckle. "Morning," I said croakily, gazing at him through bleary eyes. He was already dressed and smoking a joint, humming along to the song that was currently playing. As I rolled over and sat up, I saw Bob sitting cross legged on the end of the bed. The radio was on as I woke up, sore and hungover. After all, when was he going to get a chance like this again? When Bob had brought the first joint out, George had been wary at first but, after seeing John jump eagerly at the idea and the attention Dylan seemed to be giving him because of it, he joined in without another thought.īut Bob's silent nod of invitation for George to acompany him to one of the empty bedrooms was something he didn't even need to think twice about. Lightyears away from the ordinary, in fact.Īfter spending months listening to Bob Dylan's record on constant repeat, George had been highly excited when he'd heard the man himself was coming up to see them. Even through the haze of pot, he sensed that this was something out of the ordinary. George could hardly believe what was happening here. Glancing up again, he saw Bob smile mysteriously as he turned away. "Hey, play it back to me, George," he whispered in his characteristally gravelly voice.Īs Bob leaned over him to lay the sheet of lyrics down, George felt the ghost of a touch near the top of his left thigh. George Harrison looked up from his guitar as Bob walked over to him in thoughtful silence.
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