"What's this drabble then...

'As the air cools and the leaves start to take on a colourful tinge'....

Why are you writing about the seasons luv?"

John eyed the words on Issy's note pad. She had sat up late, much too late for him, scrawling words at an almighty rate into the night "Doesn't say 'When we done it in the dome'! I'm shocked, maybe even a little disappointed"

"Give me that, you" Snatching the notepad from under his nose Issy grinned at the look on Johns face. The pad had been millimetres away from his nose because he was sans glasses and pages had unceremoniously flicked his hooter. He was mortified. "Sorry bout that, didn't mean to touch the national treasure"

"Come here and say that"

"No"

"I dare you to stand toe to toe with moi and say that" John smirked, she was thinking about it and he had a devilish plan. "I won't hurt you"

"I wouldn't think you would"

"So"

"So what John?"

"So... toe to toe and compliment me national treasure"

"All right then"

Issy walked forward, struggling with the trepidation of him actually catching her and tickling her silly. Although she had a plan too, her plan was not going to work out and she knew it and by the looks on Johns smug mug, he concurred.

"Closer" John commanded, his index finger flexing in front of them beckoning her forward into the danger zone. Issy shifted ever closer with the tiniest movements available. Like a couple of spiders, Johns fingers came running down her arm as he went to catch her hand "Even closer Missus Lennon"

Issy trembled, all this, Missus Lennon this and that, was like fresh paint. It was on, the brush was washed and put away, but the new smell and glossy hue still surprised you.

Her eyes widened and John smiled knowing that the Wet Paint Sign, that was swinging in their breeze, confounded her. "No hand holding Mister Lennon"

"My dear I am the co-creator of the song I wanna hold your hand you cannot deny my ownership over the holding of your hand"

"I'd rather hold Paul's hand right about now"

"Arrow to the heart" His fingers tugged and she was flush "Anyway in under twenty-four hours you can hold your boyfriend's hand"

"He's not-"

"I know that" Clutching both hands he had her nice and close.

To do with as he please and please, please, please- he would indeed. "Isabelle, I wanted to really shatter the dome's copious amounts of double-glazing last night and you, and the leaves and seasons tinging, said no"

"I was-"

"Nope- shush. So anyway I was thinking, seeing as I have your undivided attention..." His wink and waggly eyebrows were enough for her to forget about air cooling for winter months and the colourful hues of autumn leaves. Issy smiled happily back. He was such fun.

All this fun he gave her, all these smiles. She felt like more than half her life had been whitewashed, dull, black and white if you will. But John plastered rainbows and splodges of brilliant and vibrant colour all over her world and she was so enamoured and pleased that he did.

So honoured that his drugfree, psychedelic kind of wonderful, brushed over her.

"I want you to plunder all my treasures and pop over the top to yell ahoy before finishing me off with a Yo ho ho and a bottle of ginger ale"

"Ginger ale?"

"Well if I said rum......"

"Excellent point"

"Yes, there is now a point"

Leaning in Issy felt him, felt him. Hard and hot through her thin crepe dress. "I thought you were going to tickle me for injuring your nose" she whispered.

And he smirked... while whispering back "I was, but I've decided to damage the dome now. You know me.. Ruin Pauls furniture, Ruin Pauls 'ouse, Ruin his Dome because I Couldn't Give a Stu-"

"Alright that's enough"

"Ouch! Watch the toes!"

"Don't talk about ruining Pauls stuff, with you know what then!" Issy brought her heel back off his bare foot, she hadn't pressed hard, only enough to remind him that a lady's shoe was more than enough ammo to win the dominance wars they were currently undertaking.

"Ouch. Toe murderer"

"Anyway, I thought you were taking me out for dinner" Pouting and swinging about like a toddler Issy tried not to grin through it all.

"Spoil sport. Alright remove the hoof and I'll chuck some duds on"

"And a tie"

"And a tie- What! No. Come on Isabelle not a tie"

Sidling up to him once more Issy tugged the tie from the dresser and brought it into view between them.

Once more she pouted because it was her super power over John, he just couldnt deny her when she pouted.

She began lifting his collar.

He had the shirt on all right but it was the duds that were missing. The only thing between her and him was her thin dress and his jocks. "Sex manic"

"You love it Isabelly"

"I do"

'So ditch the tie and dinner and let's f-"

"Nice try mister" Issy slid her hands up his chest, around his neck, smoothing the collar, attempting to sort the tie..."Dinner, then I may let you plunder"

With lightning fast response John quickly got on the dinner bandwagon "Windsor or Pratt knot"

"Noose" Issy giggled and finished the tie for him. "I've loved our time in London, thank-you for being my very magical hot tour guide."

"I've loved being your super-hot magically endowered tour guide" Waggly eyebrows had her wrapping limbs around him tight, squeezing, showing how much she enjoyed being with him.

"I'm the happiest human being on the planet because of you" With a sweet kiss she managed to convey her thanks and joy to him and she had him grinning back.... even if she had made him wear a tie.

******

The reporters flocked around them....

"Mister Lennon!       John!
Over here, Hey! is she wearing a ring?!     What's your name luv!?        John you married?!               John this way, smile man!
Are you in the UK for more Beatles legal battles?                  Any chance of reunion?               Are you here to see the other band members?!          John one more photo.               Look over here!         Missus?     What's her name John?       ....... Is this the lady from Julian's wedding!?"

That was the nail in Johns patience coffin, the bringing up of Julian and Sally's special day.

"Would you all just back OFF and let me go into a damn restaurant and eat!"

"A couple of pics for the Times, it's been years since you've been out on the town in London. Are you recording another album? The last one went well"

"Frank back 'em up a bit and I'LL ANSWER five questions. Six if it's a good 'en. Right!?" There was a hum of discord but the journos and photographers moved back maybe, maybe, two small steps.

Not nearly enough but Isabelle's fingers relaxed slightly in his hand.

With a frown he turned his back on the mob, for that's what they were, an unruly mob.

John brought his lips close to her ear "OK?" Issy nodded and he could see, by the way the vultures had attacked, that they had actually chinked her armour this time.

Leaving the United States had been a muted affair, only a couple of snappers had caught them but here it was an absolute melee. "Smile, nod if you want. I'll talk"

Fingers encircled her wrist and slid to hold her hand, a middle finger rubbing her palm softly. He turned back to the flashbulbs and scrum.

"OK. Yes, I got married. Congratulate me!"

A variety of congratulatory words punctuated the questions that still pounded his ears. "What's her name?"

"Isabelle has taken on the job of Missus Lennon and I'm stoked. Next"

"Reunion?"

"With mates- yeah. Next"

"Are you going back to Liverpool?"

"Yes"

"Will you be-"

"That's it"

"But that was only three-"

"Glad to see you finally learned to count Barry. Ta-rah folks, we have a reservation"

"You ok?" With a glum look he pulled her up to a standstill in the foyer of the restaurant. Safe from paps, and metres before the maître d' would begin to bail them up. "Sorry 'bout that" He didn't want her being a shrinking violet but he also didn't want her to feel the need that this was her job.

That it was her job to talk and represent Brand Lennon.

"I just forgot that's all"

"Forgot?"

"Forgot I was with a megastar" Rolling her eyes she tried to relieve his anguish. Well it seemed like anguish.

"Still me"

"I know that John. We have been lucky though, haven't we. You in your hat and no one recognising you as we stroll quiet places. I guess it's time to face the fact that they know you're here now and not to be alarmed"

"Alarmed?... You know my name, you know everything about me because of newspaper articles and you were alarmed?"

"I mean surprised. I forgot alright, I was taken by surprise" Issy tugged on the megastars hand but he didn't budge. He looked like he was fighting a battle from within, like he was worrying that she wouldn't like to step back outside because of the chaos he created where-ever he went "I'm not running away John. You need to give me some time to settle into this life"

"I guess, but if you are at all... I mean AT ALL worried or scared in these situations you're to say something"

"Like pumpernickel! Or fried banana! Or erotica.... Or, or... Waggy-tails!"

"What!? Oh! Haha" John brightened and chuckled, his body relaxed as he realised Iss was actually making a joke out of it all "You're good aren't you, getting a laugh out of me. Maybe a code word wouldn't be such a bad idea. But I'm not saying pumpernickel"

"But you'll say waggy-tails or erotica or fried banana?"

"Come 'er you. My wife. How do I tell thee I love thee?"

"You just did"

"Oh yeah, I did, didn't I" Shaking his head he smiled at the woman beside him "- dinner?"

"Dinner"

*

"When we get to Liverpool, I want to see everything! Penny Lane, the Art school, the Cavern, Strawberry fields, what was the name of the drinking place?

"White Star, The Grapes, The Phil?"

"The Phil, yes. With the pretty toilet's right?"

"Right. Wrong! You are not going in the men's john"

"I'm not going in John?"

"I'm not taking you in the urinal-"

"More bread, sir"

"Arrrrr no thanks. Can we have the dessert menu. Ta" He caught her hand as she tried to cover her mouth from cackling out laughter "Bloody hell Iss. What's that guy going to be thinking! Stop laughing!"

"I can't. Oh that was so funny" Issy pressed the cream napkin to her lips making sure there wasn't a stray piece of something on her lips "So can I drive up there. It's a highway isn't it, and if you can drive on the American roads without causing mayhem and destruction. I surely can drive suitably here"

"I'm giving you the driving joke this time..... Frank can drive. You can rest up for the glittering metropolis of dreary Liddypool"

"Alright then, mister party pooper. Scotland? I can drive up to Scotland then"

"I thought we were flying"

"I've changed my mind"

"I'm totally whipped"

"My holiday, my rules"

"Whipped"

*******

Issy ran the brush through her hair.

Liverpool had been.... Insightful.

John had been neither here nor there with his enthusiasm. He just went through the motions. Viewing everything from the cars rear window.

Issy would duck inside a pub or two and John waited for her. After their brush with the journalists at the restaurant they had tailed John, annoyed him, pressed for news; any news of Beatle reunions or prying to see if he was still having nasty squabbles with Paul or George. One pap even alluding he had a falling out with Richy.

And he regressed, there was no other word for it. He had regressed from being her tour guide to being the seat warmer.

Fame was a wonderful thing, you got in places, saw important people but the downside... non-stop harassment.

Placing the hairbrush down on the vanity, Issy smiled softly remembering how she had emptied The Phil on Hope Street.

John had leaned on the back seat and drifted with eyes closed, feigning sleep and she had alighted and stepped slowly. Going inside only after she had unwittingly looked up and ogled for many minutes because she was immediately in love.

In love with a cream confection of gables, turrets, balconies and orioles, all gorgeous and historic, nothing like America's shiny and new. The history and beauty of England delighted her senses like nothing before and she was smitten with 'The Phil' even before she walked over the threshold.

Then she travelled on-wards. Inside through those ornate golden scrolls and solemn faces, through heavy timber doors smothered in carvings. A delighted gasp escaped as the room opened up to even more beautiful architecture.

She offered the manager two hundred and fifty pound or quid or as she had come to describe it- Queenie money, to empty the building of patrons so they got three quarters of an hour of solitude.

Oh yes indeed... she smiled as she dragged John inside.

An empty Phil was theirs for forty-five minutes for the blessed solitude and to (much to Johns amusement) see the toilets.... Oh and to sip warm beer and eat packets of crisps in the corner. The same corner where he and Stu had apparently sat often. The manager come barman stayed away, oh he pulled a couple of pints for them both but he disappeared, and Issy was thankful he didn't ask for autographs... although John drew and scrawled on a few napkins and signed a few damp coasters but that was all done unconsciously really. Doodled as they sat and chat and touched foreheads, kissing over crisps in that corner.

The dark, wood-panelled walls with copper reliefs and the art deco lighting shone on them... and the beautiful mosaic of the floor and bar took up most of Issy's attention while she listened to John remember Stu and his love for Astrid.

He told her stories of all the people that came before, about art college and Stu's artistic skills. He told her of Stu's ability to calm his terrible ways and talk confidently to anyone he met.

And while John unfolded his memories befor her, laying them out to share, he brightened up.

The two hundred and fifty quid was tuppence compared to what they enjoyed. Special, quiet melancholy time and solitude dreaming of youth and old mates. She would be eternally grateful for the moments they sat at that corner table.

Buddy Holly himself had performed across the street at the Philharmonic Hall, perhaps he had a pint or two after the show she had mused to John as he perched his own Buddy glasses on his nose and took a better look at the stained-glass windows. The most famous gentlemen's lavatory, with its marble washbasins, copper taps and amber glazed urinals was eventually visited and all it did was make her laugh out loud at its overload of asinine grandeur.

John also had had to explain the names of the two small 'snugs'. Little 'snug' rooms of only a few chairs and table set up either side the front doors.

Leaning on the door jamb of the ensuite hours later, Issy watched on as John lay starfish like, sprawled on their bed, ready for bed "What was the names again? Of the little rooms?"

"Brahms and Liszt" He wrote the words with his finger in the air above him, eyes closed, mouth a little twisted. Trying to remember how to spell Brahms and Liszt Issy surmised as she watched on.

"Meaning shockingly drunk"

"It was eerie that... Not a soul in there bar us. I felt like the bobbies would come arrest me for break and enter. It means drunk and pissed -yeah."

"I was close" Issy walked back in the bathroom and picked up the mouthwash, a tiny bit used. Not so much that it would have John say 'bloody hell did you use the whole bottle'! It had taken all of her self control to not swig a cupful of the dreadful stuff nightly from then on just to annoy the daylights out of him. She spat and pat her lips dry.

"That you were" John was 'awake' when she returned to hover in the doorway. Up on his side facing her, shirt sleeves rolled up toward his elbows, most of the dark buttons undone save a few. The paisley print shirt was fast becoming her favourite. It washed well and didn't even need ironing and that, she classed as bliss! Tight almost drainpipe trousers hugged his legs. He was very trim even with the feasts they had been imbibing. No eyebrows waggled but a randy hand was patting the bed in front of him "Come to bed"

"You. Mister Lennon, have been asleep most of the day"

"I didn't say come to sleep, Missus Lennon"

"Oh .... but I've got a headache" She smiled secretly as she walked off rubbing her forehead to close the curtains on Liverpool.

"I'll stick me thermometer up ya and see if you have a fever. Get that bottom of yours over here pronto. We have important world record smashing to undertake"

"Oh! I forgot about that"

Issy turned from the window, shrugged out of her silky geisha kimono and met John on the bed for their all-important world record attempt....

Notes on the Phil:

The Philharmonic Dining Rooms boasts an interior long regarded as one of the most ornate in the country. The ornate building is located on Hope Street between the Anglican and the Catholic cathedral.

John lived in the Georgian Quarter with his best friend, and original bass player Stuart Sutcliffe. They would drink on Hope Street and one of their locals was always said to have been The Phil. Within walking distance of John's school, the Liverpool College of Art. They would amble down after classes to sit and chat over a pint or two. Often you could find them there all afternoon.

The pub itself is amazing in its own right, it is a grade 2 listed building that boasts grade 1 listed Gentlemen's toilets with its marble washbasins, copper taps and amber glazed urinals. It's a strange one, but they are made with a very rare type of Irish marble and the toilet room itself is covered in mosaic tiles.

It has a large mahogany horseshoe bar and you can sit in a dark corner beneath a stained glass portrait of Lord Baden-Powell of scouting fame.