George Martin lived in the village next to my small town. We've been here for a little over 10 years and he was often seen in the Saturday morning market and generally about the place - no starry behaviour and, as a result, he was left alone and not bothered.
We lived close to here about 35 years ago and we came across him indirectly then
My husband, Charles, and I had a phase of visiting open gardens. We visited one in Coleshill. Nice stone house, beautiful garden. Tea in the barn next to the kitchen served by the lady of the house. Charles could see a keyboard instrument over her shoulder (no stupid comments). “Is that a harpsichord?” – small boy “No, it’s a spinet. The harpsichord is upstairs. Do you want to see it?” Mother says he can take us to see harpsichord. We go into house (not open), along a corridor lined with glass cases. Cases are full of awards. I read the citation on one and spot Gold discs too. I hiss at Charles “Do you realise whose house this is? “ Shakes head. “It’s George Martin’s house” “Whose?”. Charles had absolutely no idea who George Martin was. He became more impressed when I pointed out that he used to be an oboist. Charles played the oboe at school. Martin junior, meanwhile, has removed the heap of laundry from the superb modern harpsichord and is telling Charles to have a go!
