Let's get this out of the way. I LOVE The Beatles. Ask anyone who knows me what my "thing" is and once they've made a hilarious knob gag they will tell you my thing is The Beatles. I love listening to them, I love reading about them, I love loving them. People randomly walk over to me just to tell me something they heard about The Beatles or they were somewhere and a Beatles song started playing because "it made me think of you". I love being thought about because of something I love.
Now to the post. People like to say what the first album/single/CD/record/tape/cylinder/8-track/whatever, but simply put, MUSIC they ever owned is. It's a badge of honour or embarrassment. Mine would be in the latter category to some people. Mine is Paul McCartney and The Frog Chorus - We All Stand Together. When I was about 5 my Dad bought me the picture disk shaped like Paul McCartney with his arm around Rupert The Bear (it was like the one you can see in the picture above). You may or may not know that Rupert The Bear was in the video and that's where the connection comes from. McCartney had just bought the copyright to Rupert The Bear and wanted to do a kids song with him in it. As a Beatles maniac the fact that my first ever record is a Paul McCartney one is really rather special for me. So special that I treasured that picture disk. My Dad kept it in the sleeve of his Paul McCartney - All The Best album and I used to ask to just look at it. As I got a little older we moved house a couple of times. My Dad stopped listening to his records as much and they went up into the attic. I always knew that my picture disk was there though and I was happy with that. Then in my teens I decided to dig it out. I. Looked. Everywhere. I couldn't find Paul McCartney - All The Best anywhere. More importantly I couldn't find my picture disk. I was quite upset as you can imagine. The other McCartney/Beatles records were there. Genesis was there. Paul Young was there. Where were All The Best and my picture disk?! We never found out. All we can think is that my Dad leant All The Best to someone and along the way never got it back. Then forgot who it was. I was distraught. My Dad felt guilty. Not as guilty as when he threw a snowball at 6 year old me and I used a sledge for a shield. The snowball was hard. I was soft. The sledge hit me in the face and broke my first adult tooth. My front tooth. I have the cap as a permanent souvenir now. I wasn't particularly arsed, still not, accidents happen, but my Dad was. Every time I crooked smiled until I had it properly capped at 17. Like I said, I wasn't arsed about that, what I was arsed about was my picture disk. Especially at 17. My tooth was capped and so fixed. My Beatles obsession was well underway from being the music my Dad liked when I was young into becoming my "thing". I mentioned the picture disk again. We looked again. No joy again. My Dad went in the attic and came back with all his Beatles records. Including an original White Album. He handed them to me and said they were now mine. He also scoured a few car boot sales and bought me some McCartney/Lennon/Harrison/Beatles 7" singles. He could see how much this meant to me. Years passed. I wheeled this story out now and again. Losing my first ever record and how I obtained my Beatles vinyl. I thought it was the end of the story.
I was wrong.
A few weeks ago my boss was again telling me how he really can't stand Paul McCartney. How his voice just grates him. Our tastes are all different. It keeps us interesting. It's why a silly picture disk means so much to me and cock all to you. McCartney's voice grating is not my opinion, but I can imagine how that must be the case for some people. It's probably the same way I feel when Celine Dion is on. That need to make it stop. Either by destroying the source of the warbling horror or by jabbing sharp objects in my ears. Anyway, my boss was saying how he was doing some thing on Facebook and he needed his least favourite song and he couldn't choose between Mull Of Kintyre (ironically, one of the 7" singles my Dad bought me from a car boot sale) or The Frogs Chorus (which is what most people seem to call We All Stand Together). I told him the story I have so far recited and then went about my day. But it was back in my head again. And we have resources now that we didn't have when I was 17. We have an easily accessible internet. We have ebay. I went on ebay and did a search for "We All Stand Together picture disk". I got a result. I clicked on it. It was the exactly the same. It was up to £15. For a vinyl single. That seemed steep. I bidded £20! Money was tight at the time. We were buying a house and paying for a wedding (still are), so I sent Sharon a grovelling email. I then set about the next few days waiting. We went to a friend's house where it was mentioned that his missus bought a lamp for £300. For a lamp?! This wasn't a lamp that was a toaster and a hi-fi. It was a very nice lamp, but it was just a lamp. A fancy holder for a light bulb and a switch. I defended her saying that things are worth what they are worth to us, not purely the monetary value. For example I had just bid £20 on a mid 80's single that I had no intention of listening to. "WHAT?!" Sharon. "Errrr. I sent you a grovelling email?"
"I haven't checked my email." So I then had to explain, in front of my friend and his missus, to my missus what I had done. She has heard the story and was cool with it. She knows what it meant to me.
5 days passed and, not wanting to disappoint or keep you in suspense too long, I will jump to the chase. I won the bid and my record was delivered to me a couple of days later. It was a joyful reunion. I bought a frame for it and put it up on the wall next to my computer. It is in fact the actual one in the picture above. Something I loved and lost has (in a way) been returned to me. It is looking over me as I write this and I will treasure it.
NOW the story is at the end and it's a happy one.
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