Alone in my bed, I was being nourished as I had been so many years before. That opening chord cracked the shell of my despondency, as surely as it had done in 1964.
If there's any connection between myself and those lovable mop-haired lads from Liverpool, it's pasty white skin resulting from an upbringing in cold, rainy northlands. Unfortunately, it's a biological influence that often turns tropical sun, surf and sand into a torturous experience, at least with an SPF less than 400.
What does it say that the biggest musical group of the first decade of this new millennium recorded its last album 40 years ago?