7 Cavendish Avenue, St. John's Wood, London, NW8, England
Linda, JoAnn and Evy wanted to show all of London to me, and I was ready to see it. Of course the first thing they wanted to do was take me to Paul’s house, that legendary location on Cavendish Avenue, or Cav Ave as it was often called. The house itself was slightly set back from the road and surrounded by a seven foot high stone wall. At the front portion of the wall was a metal gate, also seven feet high, with an intercom box on it. As I’ve mentioned here in prior posts, during these years I was pretty fearless when it came to Paul, and so the girls talked me into ringing the intercom. We knew it was the only way to discover whether or not we would see him while we were there. On the other end of that little speaker box was Rose Martin, Paul’s housekeeper for many years and later served as nanny to the children. Rose was a lovely woman who was very kind to the fans and sadly just passed away this past September at age 92. She told us that Paul was not in town, but might be back before our three weeks were up. Although we were disappointed, we were also a little relieved. Without him around as a distraction we were free to do as we wanted. And there was a lot we wanted to do.
We were out early every morning, and had a plan for each day. We went to Liverpool (of course) and saw Paul’s childhood home on Forthlin Road. We found the shelter in the middle of Penny Lane’s roundabout (it was a bathroom) and saw the barber shop made famous by the song. Back in London, we went to a play at the Lyric Theatre called John, Paul, George, Ringo and...Bert, the story of a guy (Bert) who was kicked out of the Quarrymen and became a fan instead. It was a little bizarre to see someone portraying Paul when we had seen the real guy in the flesh so many times. Stranger still, we were headed to the real Paul’s house after the show, just to check things out. Art imitates life, or something like that.
When we got to Cav Ave that night, we were able to stand on tiptoes across the street and just barely see the house on the other side of the wall. As we stretched to make ourselves just a little taller, we could see lights were on inside. There was a very small crack where the two doors of the gate were supposed to meet, but missed each other by the slightest hair. As we quietly moved toward the gate to have a look through that little slice, we saw people moving about, but couldn't be sure who we were seeing. Then we heard that voice. Paul was speaking, but not loudly enough for us to know what was being said. We heard the car door slam, footsteps and then.....nothing. Paul and whoever else was with him had gone inside. He was home.
When we got to Cav Ave that night, we were able to stand on tiptoes across the street and just barely see the house on the other side of the wall. As we stretched to make ourselves just a little taller, we could see lights were on inside. There was a very small crack where the two doors of the gate were supposed to meet, but missed each other by the slightest hair. As we quietly moved toward the gate to have a look through that little slice, we saw people moving about, but couldn't be sure who we were seeing. Then we heard that voice. Paul was speaking, but not loudly enough for us to know what was being said. We heard the car door slam, footsteps and then.....nothing. Paul and whoever else was with him had gone inside. He was home.
