A BITTER TWIST ON LENNON
I used to hate Cynthia Lennon. A lot of us teenage girls were a bit psycho, that way, in the psychedelic Sixties. Pinning Beatles to our bedroom walls like crazed etymologists. Insanely jealous of wives and girlfriends. Fantasising about John/George/Paul/Ringo – take your pick – Eight Days A Week. Cynthia was married to MY John. It was MY hand he wanted to […]
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