After the first of Dylan’s two concerts at Wembley Arena in October 2000, legendary rock photographer Tom Sheehan and I are in the backstage bar. It’s a surprisingly cavernous space that’s empty when we walk in, apart from a solitary figure sitting hunched at a table in the middle of the room.

“Jonesy,” Sheehan whispers to me. “That wouldn’t be The Quiet Beatle, would it?”

I take another look, and, fuck, it’s George Harrison, looking, you’d have to say, somewhat forlorn, disconsolate even, sitting on his own. Tom goes off to get his cameras. When I look back at the table where George has been sitting, he’s gone.

I order another drink and wait for Sheehan, who finally returns beaming, smugly. Turns out when he gets there that Dylan’s holding court in the dressing room where Tom’s left his stuff and he’s been asked to wait outside with, of all people, George, with whom he’s been chatting for the last 20 minutes, mostly about Gardener’s Question Time, exchanging knowledgeable opinions on rhododendron clusters and soil enhancement. Bob had finally appeared to greet George, giving Tom a limp handshake as he does so.

I mention this because I kept being reminded of the sight of him sitting alone in that vast bar as I was reading David Cavanagh’s brilliant cover story on George and what he did after The Beatles – a lot more than is often these days thought. David’s piece starts on page 36.

allan_jones@ipcmedia.com