Ahh, England! I'd never thought about coming here before, but now that I knew that the Beatles were from here, I didn't think I ever wanted to leave. Everything seemed so beautiful! I laughed to myself, remembering how everyone back home thought this trip was all about business. But they were partly right, of course. I would have loved to spend the whole time sightseeing, but I did have a job to do.
Finding Abbey Road was easy. There were all sorts of guides for tourists saying where that was. Since I knew the Beatles used to record there, it seemed like the best place to start.
For the next few days, I was investigating. I talked to everyone I could find who lived or worked on the same street. Lots of people remembered the Beatles - which didn't surprise me. How could you work almost right next to the Beatles and not know it?!
"Such nice lads," one woman said. "I remember when I heard they'd split up, I couldn't believe it! Back when they first came here you'd never see one without the other three!"
Another woman agreed with me when I mentioned Paul being sad. "He did look it, just before they left. He seemed like... he wasn't trying anymore. I always thought something must've been troubling him."
All this made me more determined than ever to find Paul and fix whatever was bothering him, and so I talked and talked to people who might know exactly where Paul had gone after the Beatles had broken up. "A farm in Scotland" wasn't exactly an address. But after about four days, I had spoken to enough people to know at least what part of Scotland I wanted, and I didn't want to wait anymore. I told my co-workers I was leaving, and they didn't seem surprised. They just wished me luck and drove me to the airport. By mid-afternoon, I was on a flight to Scotland.
It turned out that simply knowing what part of Scotland Paul lived in wasn't quite enough, either. There was farmland all around, and I had no idea which way I should go or if anyone here could tell me where Paul lived. With nothing else to do, I wandered. I walked through field after field, but without any idea if I was getting closer or farther away. The sun was sinking into the horizon. It was going to be dark soon. What was I going to do?
Then suddenly, I heard a sound. It was very distant, and I might've just imagined it, but - I thought I heard a Beatles song!
I crept closer to the place where the music seemed to be coming from. I listened harder. I was almost certain I heard someone playing "Let It Be" in the distance.
I began to run. I let the music guide me, hearing it growing louder and clearer. I could tell it was definitely "Let It Be" now, and as I made my way up a hill, panting for breath, I saw a dark-haired figure sitting in the grass, singing and playing a left-handed guitar.
Finding Abbey Road was easy. There were all sorts of guides for tourists saying where that was. Since I knew the Beatles used to record there, it seemed like the best place to start.
For the next few days, I was investigating. I talked to everyone I could find who lived or worked on the same street. Lots of people remembered the Beatles - which didn't surprise me. How could you work almost right next to the Beatles and not know it?!
"Such nice lads," one woman said. "I remember when I heard they'd split up, I couldn't believe it! Back when they first came here you'd never see one without the other three!"
Another woman agreed with me when I mentioned Paul being sad. "He did look it, just before they left. He seemed like... he wasn't trying anymore. I always thought something must've been troubling him."
All this made me more determined than ever to find Paul and fix whatever was bothering him, and so I talked and talked to people who might know exactly where Paul had gone after the Beatles had broken up. "A farm in Scotland" wasn't exactly an address. But after about four days, I had spoken to enough people to know at least what part of Scotland I wanted, and I didn't want to wait anymore. I told my co-workers I was leaving, and they didn't seem surprised. They just wished me luck and drove me to the airport. By mid-afternoon, I was on a flight to Scotland.
It turned out that simply knowing what part of Scotland Paul lived in wasn't quite enough, either. There was farmland all around, and I had no idea which way I should go or if anyone here could tell me where Paul lived. With nothing else to do, I wandered. I walked through field after field, but without any idea if I was getting closer or farther away. The sun was sinking into the horizon. It was going to be dark soon. What was I going to do?
Then suddenly, I heard a sound. It was very distant, and I might've just imagined it, but - I thought I heard a Beatles song!
I crept closer to the place where the music seemed to be coming from. I listened harder. I was almost certain I heard someone playing "Let It Be" in the distance.
I began to run. I let the music guide me, hearing it growing louder and clearer. I could tell it was definitely "Let It Be" now, and as I made my way up a hill, panting for breath, I saw a dark-haired figure sitting in the grass, singing and playing a left-handed guitar.
