Sunday, 26 October 2014

Having a Beatle in the family

For as long as I can remember, in my family home, the songs of the Beatles were always playing. This all stemmed from my father, the biggest Beatle fan I know. I remember dinners with ‘Help’ and an unhappy mum who tried to change the soundtrack for Abba or Denis Rousseau. My family was terrorised for a few years and later we just decided to give up. Now we also like the Beatles.

A few days ago, I had occasion to buy some tickets to Liverpool. I bought them and I called my father and I told him that I wanted to take him to the town of Lennon, McCartney, Harrison and Starr. On the other side of the phone, I could hear a voice like that of a little child, ‘yes, of course, we will fly’. As the day came closer, my father called me more and more often. He was still asking if it was going ahead. Our conversations lasted for over an hour. He told me the whole story about the band. I even started to think why did he want to go there if he knew everything about them.

The day before the flights, we found a website with an online shop where they sell Beatles memorabilia. My father took up his glasses and after a while started screaming ‘go to the CDs, go to the CDs,’ and then you can laugh, but it’s true, for the first time I heard my father saying ‘click’ and I had to click on all the band’s albums. 

Our trip was just for three days, but it was enough for my father to visit the shops four times. In the museum ‘the Beatles Story’, we spent almost three hours. My father was walking really slowly and was a little proud, thinking and listening. 

The rooms in the museum were styled along the lines of an old pub and I saw really old men who looked as if they had been preserved for all time. There, for a while, my father stopped being my father and became a toe-tapping teenager.

When we returned home, after a few shots of Jack Daniels, my father confessed to me that it was the trip of his life. I have to say that I was proud of myself and I understood how easy it is to created pleasure for someone else. 

Of course, only if we know what that person wants. Now, I know that it’s easier to make happy memories for people who are a little crazy, who scream about their passions and I even stopped caring about my mum. I probably should be caring about her because my father bought five new CDs of the Beatles. But mum is getting on very well. She bought ear muffs and now I know that it’s really cool to have a Beatle in the family.