It was April 1970. Must have been just after noon, as I was in PM Kindergarten at Burlington Road School. We were getting settled at our desks when a classmate whispered, "the Beatles broke up, my sister told me."
I remember thinking, how old is this girl's sister? how would she know if the Beatles broke up? this doesn't make any sense.
"The Beatles are NOT breaking up." I was as defiant as a six-year-old can be. None of my friends' parents were divorced, everyone had two grandmothers and two grandfathers, and the Beatles will never break up.
That ten year period brom April 1970 to December 1980 was my whole rational, idealistic, childhood. I'm not sure what to call the last thirty years. Irrational, cynical, adulthood, perhaps?