River Dee, Cheshire – July 2025
On a still summer afternoon, far from the glare of stadium lights and roaring crowds, Paul McCartney was spotted drifting down the River Dee in a small wooden boat — but he wasn’t alone. Sitting opposite him, smiling beneath a flat cap, was Alfred “Alfie” Moore, one of Paul’s closest friends from his Liverpool school days.
The two men, both in their 80s now, rowed gently along the peaceful riverbanks, surrounded by reeds, ducks, and memories that go back over seven decades.
Locals watched in quiet awe as the legendary musician and his lifelong friend shared laughter, stories, and silence — not the silence of strangers, but of two souls who have known each other since they were boys kicking stones on Penny Lane.
“We used to sneak out and fish here as kids,” Paul recalled with a grin. “Never caught anything but trouble.”
Alfie, a retired teacher who stayed in the UK while Paul toured the world, added:
“He went on to change music. I stayed and taught music. But the river still remembers us both.”
The boat, a modest wooden skiff named Yesterday, was borrowed from a local friend of Alfie’s. There was no motor, no crew — just two old friends rowing and letting the current carry them, much like life had.
At one point, Paul pulled out a small harmonica from his pocket and began softly playing as the boat drifted under a willow tree. Alfie closed his eyes and nodded along, lost in the melody of the past.
Photographers who happened to catch the moment kept their distance, allowing the two to remain in their bubble — a rare, unscripted moment of peace and connection.
Before docking, they stopped mid-river to simply sit, without speaking, watching the sky reflect in the still water. A few geese passed by. A dragonfly landed on the boat’s edge. It felt like nature itself had paused to honor the reunion.
As they returned to the small wooden dock, Paul turned to Alfie and said:
“Of all the places I’ve been, this river might be my favorite stage.”
Sometimes, the loudest music is made not with guitars or crowds — but with oars in water, old laughter, and the kind of friendship that floats through time.
