tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446478924751393697.post8448270616632521847..comments2023-11-02T03:07:34.704-07:00Comments on Ian's Blog II: 69/72 by way of the BeatlesIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783233203208378439noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446478924751393697.post-65940022087569264572007-11-24T15:39:00.000-08:002007-11-24T15:39:00.000-08:00Frosh, What a great memory to remember the first t...Frosh, What a great memory to remember the first time you heard the Beatles when they were still a group. We need to get together and really distill all the early times that I missed out on.IMhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13783233203208378439noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446478924751393697.post-68551042386454552482007-11-21T06:16:00.000-08:002007-11-21T06:16:00.000-08:00It's interesting that one of your first memories i...It's interesting that one of your first memories is of England, Ian, because my first two memories are of England as well. In one of the trips we made to England between 1962 to 1963, I remember getting a BOAC pin from the stewardess as I boarded the flight to London and I also remember vividly seeing a ghost bang on the window of the bedroom where Lindsay (still a baby) and I slept. What I remember most about the trip in 1969 was how Daddy had told us that the weather in England in the summer was absolutely horrible and all that summer, it was beautiful and sunny, with the exception of a couple of days. I also remember being disappointed that the beaches in England had pebbles and not sand and it was painful to walk on them.<BR/><BR/>I also remember the first time I heard a Beatles song; it was 1965 and I was in a carpool that was going to St. John's. I remember vividly how discordant the song sounded compared to the classical music that Daddy played all the time. It would be another five years before I came to appreciate the Beatles and all the other rock groups that I came to love in 1970, like the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Eric Clapton, and so on.Froshtyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04917515535096296726noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446478924751393697.post-46473404963761352672007-11-16T15:35:00.000-08:002007-11-16T15:35:00.000-08:00The chocolate mousse rabbit was real. And when we ...The chocolate mousse rabbit was real. And when we came back in 1972, it had "had babies" (two, to be exact, and you got one and I got the other). The haunted hotel was in Normandy. Forsyth and I encountered that "ghost" not only through the toilet paper roll but a door that shut and locked itself one night when the rest of you were downstairs at dinner.Emily Bartonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13971084813206845680noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446478924751393697.post-62653958524167048632007-11-16T07:05:00.000-08:002007-11-16T07:05:00.000-08:00Do you remember that haunted hotel? What was the s...Do you remember that haunted hotel? What was the story behind that? I was only five, so the finer details might be lost to me. And thanks for dragging me to safety. I think I was showing off, which usually ends badly.IMhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13783233203208378439noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446478924751393697.post-43455265708239158202007-11-15T18:14:00.000-08:002007-11-15T18:14:00.000-08:00That was really cool. It made me remember a whole...That was really cool. It made me remember a whole different version of England from before I lived there. Despite the rain, it did seem as if all the colors were very bright. (I also have a possibly flawed memory of clumsily carrying you across the driveway when you smashed your finger on the garden gate).Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com