He May Be Sir Paul, But He's Still a Beatle
Bob Spitz, New York Times, The, 25 May 1997
ON A RECENT afternoon in the kitchen of a quaint 17th-century mill house overlooking the English Channel, there was a sense of eventfulness. The room was in rigorous disarray. Newspapers spilled across a red leather banquette, bowls of snacks littered the Formica table; a stack of tea canisters teetered on the counter. Only the calendar, thumbtacked to a shelf over the sink, suggested order. Its squares were filled in with mundane engagements that mirror everyday family life — aside from one that was conspicuously circled. The date was March 11, and printed in neat, boxy letters was the reminder "Buck. Palace."
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