Get It Straight, Or Say Good Night

Kenwood or Woodn't

"Wake up you lazy clod" Lou was beside herself, the letters had rained down over past last week, all slotted through the gate, all delivered to her by the security guard slash driver.

All read...

Scrunched up, cried over, flattened out, re-read and screamed about. She did it all in the stillness of the bedroom, in the quiet of her wing of the house as the nanny ran about on the lawns of Kenwood with Eve.....

While John was, reportedly, absconded in the studio.

The tours were over now, too many fans yelled too loudly. Too many police and security guards shoved them roughly. Too many death threats
Too many old songs played when newer, better songs were being recorded.

Kenwood~ regal, stately, remote.

At first it was bliss, the endless noise of traffic of the street outside the old flat now gone, the fans no longer knocking upon the door.

Open space to wander and roam, gardens to sun in, a pool to frolic.

At first it was a novelty ~ Louise the lady of the house, John the lord, a small staff of cleaner, gardener slash security guard slash driver, nanny.

Louise cast her eyes around the room, the bloody knights armour was looking tarnished yet again.  However did they keep it clean in the days of King Arthur she mused. A bear stood tall and scary in the opposite corner. Eve hardly ever liked coming in the sunroom because of the ghastly thing. Too many nights Louise had clutched her own chest and near screamed thinking an overweight extremely tall slob of a robber was standing in the corner.

"John!" Louise understood the need for sleep but John now seemed to spend most minutes of the day, when home, exercising his right to be unconscious in it. "Come on wakey, wakey Win"

His eyes were still closed to her but nevertheless John responded "How many times do I tell you not to call me that, Maybel?"

"Not enough to stop me, Win" Lou pushed John a little and sat beside him as he lay on the mustard coloured couch. The old thing was in dire need of a spring clean... if ever Win got off it. "Look at these. Do you know her. She says she knows you"

"Bloody hell Lou, the entire population of earth seems to have my name and number"

"That's a bit of a stretch, don't you think. Can't see the pigmy's of New Guinea having heard of the great John Lennon" Lou rustled the sheets of mail, making John blink a smidge and spy on her as he pretended not to care to open his eyelids. Why on earth did she need to wake me to look at bills, bloody woman.

"Never underestimate a traveling salesman luv" John spied again, no not bills. What is she clutching ... fan mail? God, she's gone potty.

"John come on, eyes open, this is important. She says stuff... intimate stuff. You're not, you know......"

"Geez Louise, one woman's enough problems for a fella, why would I need fucking two"

"Thanks very much" Lou pouted, glancing down at John sadly. Worry etched about her eyes.

This one, this woman writing these letters, was attacking John through his brain, knocking on his thoughts.

The words on the page intrigued Lou, so this females pen-womanship that she addressed to John, with all this artistically odd and different views surely intrigued him too.... Lou shook her head to try and banish the thoughts. He loved her, he did, he must to put up with me, to put up with my bad days, to kiss me intimately often, he must love me.

"You look nice" John templed his fingers on his stomach and watched her battle wage inside.

She finally managed to spend a little money now without him pushing for her to do so. She was always banging on about getting a bargain but that was ok, at least she had some nice gear that she actually wore and didn't hide it in the back of the cupboard like George said Pattie did. Yeah Pattie seemed to be a bit of a bloody shopaholic, always lugging parcels and fancy bags back to the studio for Mal to pile in George's motor. Nice girl but her wardrobe must encompass half of East Anglia by now.