…that I sat at the breakfast table, preparing to go catch the bus to go to work, my first post-qualification job as a Solicitor and the news came on the radio.
Thirty-six years. I still remember the shock we all felt, how time came to a momentary halt. It had been like this three years earlier, when the news broke about Elvis, but I didn’t care about him. He was ours, for all that he was thousands of miles away in New York. He was one of them, one of the only four to know what it was like, and the secret hope that, one day, if you were really, really hopeful, they’d play together again, died on the streets of New York with the last remnants of the Sixties.
How can it really be thirty-six years?
John Winston O’Boogie Lennon.