A bottle of Coca-Cola with a paper straw
I loosen my collar; I’m going to be late. The city is heaving with lunchtime traffic. Promising me a mind blowing experience, she’d asked me to meet her in a converted cellar. I descend the narrow steps as fast as I can. Hideous noises grow louder. It’s not what I expected.
As I enter, the place is crammed with excited teenagers; condensation dripping down walls. All eyes are focused on four young men. She squeezes my arm and assures me that, in the near future, they will be world famous.
I’m not impressed and reply, ‘Who, exactly, are The Beatles?’