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Brighton, England

Memory Almost Full

I really enjoyed Paul McCartney’s headline performance at Glastonbury on Saturday. Spanning much of his life’s work, apart from the earlier hits, turns out I wasn’t familiar with entire chunks of it.

This might be in part because I grew up in a family where the Beatles didn’t feature. My mum was a Stones fans growing up, not much bothered by Beatles mania (a particular point of pride for my brother).

Having enjoyed Get Back earlier this year, and now rummaging through Macca’s back catalogue, I feel like I’m playing catch up.

Watching his performance I felt a pang of sadness. It’s unlikely I’ll ever see this iconic yet 80-year old artist perform live in front of me. And then I remembered – I already have!

It was at the closing ceremony of the 2012 Olympic Games, where Paul closed out the occasion with, well, you know. I suspect this memory may have faded given I was there with my mum, the noise of her eyes rolling drowning out the strained vocals of this former Beatle.

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