Irvette is all finished now ^_^ She is a repainted CAM sea monster that I added icing hair (Mod Podge Collage Clay) to. I thought about making her an outfit, but I think she looks great in this dress of Wydowna’s. I made her purse though. I really like how she turned out :)
“Ringo’s girlfriend, Maureen Cox, was also from Liverpool. She was a fan whose dream had come true. She had started out as one of the hundreds of teenage girls who queued day after day at the Cavern to get close to the front of the stage for the best possible view of the Beatles and in the hope that they might catch the eye of one. Every fan had a favourite, and Ringo was hers. She wouldn’t have called herself a fanatic – she would only queue, she said, for two or three hours while some girls were there all day – but she did run after Ringo in the street one day to get his autograph when she spotted him getting out of his car. She was seventeen, had just left school and was learning to be a hairdresser. Then, one day, it happened for her. Again, she and I had little in common but she was jolly and friendly, more relaxed than Cynthia. We got on but I felt there was definitely a north–south divide among the wives and girlfriends. And I had the definite impression that the girls from the north felt they had a prior claim to the boys”
The girls from the north def had dibs on the boys. Def Mo had some claim to Geo, too.
This photo was taken while filming the concert scene in A Hard Day’s Night. I’d only know Maureen and Astrid a few days….
Claire Fraser didn’t realize she had dozed off until the
mattress dipped beside her.
She blinked in the candlelight – Jamie had insisted,
shyly telling her that he had wanted to watch how it threw shadows over her
face while they made love in his bed for the first time. In a split second she
had seen the faces of countless Fraser men and women – Jamie’s ancestors – who had
lived (and loved) by candlelight in this room for two hundred years.
Jamie didn’t go far – just to his desk on the other side
of the room. He bent to unplug something – giving his wife the most perfect
view of his posterior – before returning to the side of the bed.
It was a small clock radio – and, now that it was plugged
in, he smiled at her and fiddled with the dial.
“What kind of music do you want?”
Claire edged up a bit on her elbow. Ellen Fraser’s pearls
softly clacked between her breasts. “Do you get anything except country-western
He threw her a withering look, but continued twisting the
“We’re not *that* far out – in fact, there – ”
That song –
“No reason to get excited // the thief he kindly spoke //
There are many here among us // Who feel that life is but a joke…”
Claire threw her arms around Jamie’s shoulders.
He clung to her for dear life.
“Outside in the cold distance // A wildcat did prowl…”
She felt his heart stutter beneath her own –
“Two riders were approaching // And the wind begins to
His nails dug into the bare flesh of her hips. Anchoring
her to him.
Her mouth sucked on his neck – tasting the dirt and sweat
and pine needles of their afternoon together.
“I listened to that song so many times that I wore out
the 45. But I wasn’t brave enough to buy a new one.” His voice was so far away,
his eyes seeing not the plaster on the wall but rather the fathomless night of
the jungle surrounding Chu Lai. Those precious hours they had spent together after
the attack – the only time they knew they’d ever have to be honest with each
other, when he was hers and she was his and he just didn’t give a damn about
Claire locked her legs around his hips, and pulled back
from his neck. “Every time it came on the radio, I had to change the station. I
– I wasn’t brave enough to listen. To feel. To remember.”
Goosebumps prickled his flesh.
“But Claire,” he rasped. “You and I – that wasn’t our
fate. It’s done now. It’s in the past. Here we are. You’re my wife.”
“Yes,” she whispered, straightening up to find his eyes –
so dark now in the candlelight. “And you’re my husband.”
“Yes,” he gasped. “Oh, God. Yes.”
His mouth was fire and desperation and HOME.
Gently Claire rolled them back to the mattress, helping
Jamie settle his hips between her legs.
“Does it ever stop, Claire? The wanting you?” he
murmured, threading his fingers through hers, licking the side of her neck,
biting her chin.
And then he was inside, and they cried out at how good it
“I – Jamie –” she gasped, willing her eyes to stay open,
tangling her fingers in his hair.
“*Seas, mo nighean donn*,” he stuttered. “I know. *A
Dhia.* I know.”
After a while, the clock radio harmlessly, soundlessly
skidded from the mattress to the thick carpet covering the wood floor.
“I’ve been to Hollywood // I’ve been to Redwood // I
crossed the ocean for a heart of gold…”
Jamie dropped Claire’s hands and pushed himself up on his
elbows. Claire’s head jerked to her left, eyes shut, gasping for ecstasy.
“I love you, Claire,” Jamie sobbed. “I love you.”
Her back arched. “…love you…” she panted. “…so much…”
“Keep me searching for a heart of gold // I’ve been a
miner for a heart of gold…”
His mouth fused with hers, and they peaked, and they knew
it would never stop.