It’s Beatles Day. I live just off Penny Lane – and have done, on and off, for nearly 23 years. I used to love The Beatles. I still love Penny Lane. I love the bakery where I buy my pastries. I love the corner shop (that isn’t on the corner) where I buy the milk. I love the pub where we get Saturday lunch occasionally. I loved the Washerama when I didn’t have a machine and it was still open. I love the giraffe statues my children admire on the walk to school. It’s really pretty fantastic. 

However, due to constant exposure to the Fab Four, I never choose to listen to their music. What’s the point? It’s shoved into my ears constantly anyway.

Except this song…it’s too beautiful to ignore. In fact, it’s almost perfect. I sang it to my youngest daughter at seventeen minutes past midnight on the day that she was born. Right at the end of December – and in the midst of a Game of Thrones-esque winter – it was everything.

She was my sun that day. She was all the sunshine I could have wanted after 37 weeks of a horrendous pregnancy.

That moment wouldn’t have been as special without George Harrison’s commentary.