BEETLEMANIA
WOMAN'S WEEKLY|March 23, 2021
Sheila was desperate to see the Fab Four, but her little sister had other plans
Amanda Swift
BEETLEMANIA

I love you, Ringo!’ screamed my sister at a random stranger from the hotel window.

‘Stop it, Sheila,’ I called over from the tidier bed (mine), where I was reading a book. ‘We could get arrested!’

‘Don’t be daft!’ said Sheila, then screamed at the top of her voice, ‘Paul!’

I admit I rushed to join her at the window when I heard the name Paul. Although I was a nerd who actually preferred big bands to the Beatles, I did secretly think Paul McCartney was the fabbest of the Fab Four.

My big sister, Sheila, and I had saved for months to come down to London to try to catch sight of the Beatles, do some screaming and crying, maybe even get an autograph or two. Well, at least that’s what Sheila wanted to do. She was obsessed with them and had a major crush on Ringo.

We’d found a cheap hotel near the famous studios where the Beatles had recorded their Abbey Road album. Our plan was to go and wait outside with the other fans for a day or two, then go back home and spend the rest of our lives telling our friends about our adventure. That was Sheila’s plan, anyway. I wasn’t really bothered about the Beatles. I wanted to visit London so I could go to the Natural History Museum. Beetles, not Beatles, were for me.

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