From Robyn on Patreon in 2024
John Lennon started the Beatles, and it was his right and privilege to complain about them; but the recording of this song, on the ‘Rubber Soul’ album was a fine example of how much George and Paul (and Ringo, though less so here) enhanced his creations. There is archeological evidence of McCartney’s contribution to the middle eight - although the bones were moved to the other end of the chapel at the beginning of the 19th Century - and Harrison’s sitar is one of the definitive moments of 1965. Oh, I recall it so well: I was sitting in the Nursery with Grandma when two frogmen burst in and threw a baguette on the floor, rather assertively, I thought.

“Ooh my,” said Grandma: “What’s that funny bread doing here on our nice white floorboards? Look - there’s crumbs everywhere…”

In reply the two frogmen pointed at either end of the supine loaf, with their right and left forefingers respectively (after first doffing their gauntlets). Having better eyesight than Grandma, and being more agile, I knelt on the floor and scrutinized the bread.

“Well, aren’t *you* the bloodhound?” murmured Grandma, lighting one of her Peter Stuyvesant filter-tipped cigarettes and inhaling deeply: “What’s it look like down there, Robyn?”

Grandma was by no stretch of the imagination a flirt, but seeing the two frogmen close at hand made her adjust her headscarf even as she somewhat theatrically waved her cigarette aloft. The frogmen, however, focussed their glowing red eyes on the baguette.

“Wow, Grandma,” I murmured: “It’s full of lady-birds. And they’re…well, you can probably hear…they’re all humming.”

As I looked into the crust, I beheld a score of tiny jewelled lady-birds embedded in it. And as I looked closer, I saw that each little bug had a miniature George Harrison emblazoned on its wings, cross-legged, playing the sitar. I was hypnotised…and soon forgot all about Grandma and the frogmen.

Back in the future, Davey Lane and I do our best to capture the key elements of ‘Norwegian Wood’ after a gig in Melbourne. This occasion is bottled by Jeremy Dylan on Super-8 and exported to Cardiff where Charlie Francis uncorks it, and tips it onto his emery board. A little varnishing and it’s ready for y’all’s eyes and ears.

And now it’s breakfast time and I must go to sleep. Goodnight, children, everywhere…