Clapton_ The Autobiography - Eric Clapton [142]
They came back with a fairly positive response, and we decided to put on a week of shows at the Albert Hall, which of course was where we played our farewell concert. The dates were set for May of 2005, with a month of rehearsals preceding. Realizing that it was likely to be an experience I’d need to recover from, I also chartered a motor yacht to take Melia and the kids on a cruise through the Aegean when it was all over. She had never been to Greece, and the idea was dreamed up when we were watching the Athens Olympics on TV and I was regaling her with the whole story of my escapades with the Glands all those years ago.
On February 1, 2005, my fourth daughter, Sophie, was born. I had given up hoping for a son by this time. In fact, I had been quietly hoping for another girl, because so far my girls had all been such wonderful, loving creatures, and I was dreading the possibility of a boy coming into our midst and causing guaranteed havoc. Sophie was born with bright red hair, and just like the other two girls before her with Melia, was constantly sick with one thing or another, and whatever it was, I would catch it, as would the other girls. But her spirit shone through, and because she is the youngest, she is probably the toughest and most assertive. I love all my girls equally, but it amazes me how different their characters are, and how, in turn, I respond to their various needs and manipulations. With the pace at home increased a notch, we soon realized that as well as Annie, we needed another pair of hands, and my friend Jane Ormsby-Gore, Alice’s older sister, suggested that we offer the post to her daughter, and my goddaughter, Ramona. It seemed like a splendid idea, and she spent the next year with us.
I turned sixty this year, and to celebrate, Melia organized a massive bash at the Banqueting House in Whitehall. We invited just about everyone I have ever known, even the members of the Glands band, some of whom I hadn’t seen in forty years. It was a fantastic bash. Jimmie Vaughan flew in to play, along with Robert Randolph and Steve Winwood, and I had the time of my life. The highlight of the evening for me was listening to my plucky wife make an impromptu speech about me, which brought tears to my eyes. A few other people had wanted to get to the microphone to say something, but she fought them off to have her say, and I loved her for it. It was truly a great night, and I felt very happy and proud.
Cream rehearsals began in May and went on for almost a month. We needed a lot of preparation because we were reaching a long way back, and also Jack had just recovered from major surgery and complications, and was still convalescing. Ginger was also suffering from back problems, but for the moment I was in good health, and gloating. For the first couple of days we would only play two or three songs, trying to find our feet, but as the days went by we quickly found our pace again and started to sound really good. I was tremendously relieved, but I wasn’t sure how it would go, as I knew that some of the old resentments were right there under the surface waiting to be rekindled. But after a minor skirmish right at the beginning, we all got on very well, and actually started to have fun. It was great, because it took me straight back to the times when being in Cream really was a fantastic place to be.
As luck would have it, the day before the first gig at the Albert, I came down with a serious flu virus, and for the first three shows I was completely out of it. So much for my gloating. I started on antibiotics, and thank God recovered enough to be present for the last couple of shows.