Diaries 1969-1979_ The Python Years - Michael Palin [216]
Take Tom and Willy swimming at midday, then over to Carlton Hill, St John’s Wood, where I’ve been summoned to meet Ronnie Wood – once of the Faces, now of the Stones and, perhaps, apart from Paul Simon, the closest and most genuine of Eric’s friends in the pop aristocracy.
Whilst Tom and Willy play records on the juke-box in Eric’s kitchen and generally complain about being there at all, I explore the house. Rather like a seaside farce, there’s a lady called Charlotte in the sauna, and on the top floor, next to Eric’s work-room, with its ‘Bible’ commentaries on the desk, an Australian girl called Shirley is staying.
‘Woody’ arrives in a chauffeur-driven Mercedes, neatly dressed, dark-haired and with such a tan it looks like make-up, but of course it isn’t, he lives in Malibu. I thank him for his letters and assorted scribbles during the summer. Eric opens a bottle of Dom Perignon (a gift from Dark Horse Records for writing and directing a couple of promo films for George’s album 33⅓ in the summer) then we walk in the crisp November sunshine round to the Clifton Arms. It’s full of people and smoke and Woody solicitously finds a kids’ room at the back. He’s a nice, unaffected, friendly man – very warm.
He describes Stones business meetings – they have even more than Python – with Keith Richards, who sounds very eccentric, lying prostrate and apparently dead for much of the meeting, apart from the occasional devastating one-liner. Charlie Watts remains very silent until suddenly, out of the blue, coming up with an idea about plastic record covers.
His position as a relatively new member of the Stones is considered differently by the Stones and their ‘businessmen’. As he puts it, the band are all very democratic, split everything equally, ‘but as soon as the businessmen come in it all changes.’
In the early evening Al Levinson comes round, in a mellow haze of cigar smoke. It seems that my favourable comments on Millwork really encouraged him and he’s now writing fast and furiously on a new ‘Fish’1 novel, ‘Fish Full Circle’.
Wednesday, November 24th
A good, workmanlike Python meeting. John and G have a good idea for a Brian storyline and their two new pieces, though short, are not just on the point, but very funny – writing ‘Go Home Romans’ on the wall is going to be a little classic. I wish I’d thought of such a neat idea.
From 22 Park Square East we all (except Gilliam) pile into John’s Rolls and purr down to Audley St, Mayfair, for a viewing of selected Biblical epics, which we feel we ought to see. We nearly run over Elton John in North Audley Street and muse on what a strange headline it would make – ‘Elton Run Over by Pythons’.
The viewing theatre at Hemdale is very comfortable, which is just as well as the films – Barabbas, King of Kings, The Greatest Story Ever Told and Ben Hur (we see bits of each) – are extremely heavy and turgid. Best performances and best writing always centre on the baddies – Herod, Pilate, etc – and the nearer you get to Jesus the more oppressive becomes the cloying tone of reverence. Everyone talks slower and slower and Jesus generally comes out of it all as the world’s dullest man, with about as much charisma as a bollard.
We had a few good ideas during the viewing (midst much silly giggling and laughter). I suggested we should have four Wise Men – the fourth one being continually shut up by the others, who always refer to themselves as the Three Wise Men. ‘Four’. ‘Ssh!’
Tuesday, November 30th, Southwold
Depressing visit to the hospital in Southwold. Daddy looking thinner than before. His staring, largely immovable eyes register my appearance briefly, but cannot manage much more. His speech in fits and starts. Sometimes he doesn’t make sense at all. Much talk of ties and headmasters.
Look out towards the church, the beautiful Southwold Church he loved so much and the grey November afternoon closing around it. A pretty melancholy realisation that my father will