The story on the link above caught my eye. In 1963, Pat Doncaster , the Daily Mirror's "disc" columnist, handed me a picture of the Stones posed outside a line of telephone booths.
I've seen it since but can't find it right now. But it was likely taken during the same session as the one above.
I looked at the snap, and asked Pat, "What's the point of them all being so ugly?" Pat didn't know, but assured me the lads were, "..going to be very big." It was one of the few things Pat got right.
One of his miscalulations was that smoking was, as he put it, "...good for the lungs. Toughens 'em up. Look at me. Smoked all my life and I'm trained like an astronaught."
Unsurprisingly, Pat went to his reward a good many years ago.
What is very surprising, however, is that Mick, Keith and Bill are still above ground. Alive! And even kicking a bit.
A glowing tribute to the healing and sustaining powers of debauchery,
And I myself am still alive, albeit a bit doddery.
Which is - I suppose - also mildly surprising, although I have led a life of almost monkish and scholarly rectitude and have very often been sober for several hours at a time.