I didn't marry a Beatle, I married a broke student who played the guitar and ponced all my grant money off me for fags.

John was closest of all to Paul their relationship was very complex.

John was in constant need of proof of love and security and he was constantly testing people for that proof.

We were both sort of bowled over by the fact that we were married. It wasn't a question of 'Have we done the right thing?' It was all perfectly natural that we should be together. But John didn't get a real chance to be first a real husband or later, a real father. Once he got on the Beatles bangwagon he couldn't get off, even if he wanted to.

When John was with me, it was total commitment. Whatever he did outside our relationship didn't seem very important. We were together such a lot of the time that whatever other affairs he had once we met couldn't have amounted to much because I was with him most of the time. He kept me in Liverpool as late as I dared stay.

Yoko had 10 years and I had 10 years and I would rather have had the 10 years I had than the ones she did. I had the raw talent and the raw human being, before the sycophants arrived.

John needed to escape his reality. I understood completely but I couldn't go along with him.

Ringo had this habit of lighting up two cigarettes, one for Maureen at the same time that he lit his own. I remember thinking it was a loving thing to do and wishing John did it for me. But that would have been too obviously demonstrative, maybe, for John.