Here's Part II. I have to thank Lis for making me a copy of this article(Part II) since I don't have the original.
Perfection in married life, by Christine and John... Penny Valentine continues her close-up on the ex-Chicken Shack singer.
Her voice is dry with a tinge of North Country humour in it; she's not conventionally pretty-but she is pleasant and warm and that's half the battle.
She can change a plug with the expertise of an electrician's mate("Every girl has to learn to be an electrician when she goes on the road") and -up until two years ago-her domestic scene would have made a vicar's tea party collapse in disorder.
Today Christine Perfect is on her hands and knees cleaning the carpet. She is wearing jeans, an old sweater with holes in it, and her face is flushed. Somehow the sight is incongruous. You just don't expect a lady who can sing "I'd Rather Go Blind" to be on her hands and knees anywhere...
But Christine Perfect has changed a great deal since she married John McVie. "It may sound cow-like, but I'm much more contented and happy." And certainly she and McVie together exude a warm compatibility that has its basis far away from the music world.
They have just moved into a new spacious London flat, one floor up overlooking Gloucester Terrace, W2, with all mod cons except that the carpet is dirty and the kitchen roller blinds don't work.
It is their third flat since they were married two years ago, and they are saving to buy a house. "Ultimately," says John as we drink mugs of coffee and he offers to do Christine's shopping, "that's what I'm working for. It means I'm away for three or four months at a time and Christine, like all women, tends to get emotionally upset about it. But it's money for out future and, eventually, we'll be pleased I did it."
It always destroys me when John's away," says Christine mournfully. "It's like having my right arm missing. I pad about the flat feeling lost."
It wasn't always like this. At one time Christine Perfect was living with the Chicken Shack. The only girl with three men. Strangers who called were amazed when she opened the door at all hours of the day and night, and suspected all kinds of peculiar things. The lady had a somewhat strange reputation.
"They just couldn't understand," she says now, "that we were simply mates. Stan was going out with Andy's sister, and when Dave joined he naturally slotted into the role of good friend. People couldn't get it together-how I lived in the same house with nothing seamy going on. Well, people always want to believe what they want to believe-I mean, people will never believe that John and I have given up our boozing. The stigma always sticks."
"But really nobody chatted me up in the group. I wasn't even like a bird to them. Even the kids at gigs thought I was going with one of the group. It was a weird scene. The 'groupies' used to glare daggers at me, and it rather put them off their stroke when I was around."
"I felt sorry for them. Well, I would have probably been a 'groupie' if things hadn't worked out the way they did. I was in a position they all envied, being close to the group. You see, they all aspire to be on those kind of terms with a group. It's a kind of frustrated desire to be part of the show business scene.
"And I had that desire. I don't know how else I would have become a part of the pop world I loved if I hadn't been in a group-or a 'groupie'."
John perhaps knows her best. "He's my best friend," she says smiling at him. Her circle of real close friends is small-Fleetwood Mac, her manager Harry Simmonds, and the two girls with whom she went to art school.
She describes herself as a bit "live and let live."
"I don't care what people do as long as they don't actively interfere with me. I'm very calm and placid and it takes a lot to ruffle me. I haven't really got a temper to control and if someone DOES annoy me, well, I just get cross with myself."
"I suppose the only people I don't actually UNDERSTAND are 'straights'. It's intolerant, but I don't see how they can be so happy. I want to shake them and say "Don't you realise you're not living-just existing!' They're not getting the most out of their lives. Look, it took me to the age of 20 to realise I wasn't going to waste my life working behind a counter."
Somehow you feel that being in love and married to a man like McVie has ebbed a lot of her original ambition. She paints, sketches, sculpts and is busy with life. Her new solo career is really just an extension of all this.
"I suppose I'll be a bit nervous at first because I don't know what people will expect from me. I'm not another Julie Driscoll. It'll be nice to have a band just working for me. Before, Stan was pretty errratic and I never felt I always worked well within the group."
"Now, it'll be a soft rock band and I can choose when I want to work. If I want to earn money I can when John's away. If the solo thing doesn't work-well, look it's been handed to me on a silver platter. I'll have reaped some benefits and I can always paint, write songs or go back to sculpting for some kind of fulfilment."
A very telling portrait of John, sketched by Christine hangs on the wall of the flat. It is a drawing by someone who knows another human being inside out.
"You know," Christine laughs, "John and I want to pack up everything in a couple of years time and go on safari-travel a bit before we're too old. After that-well I think we're going to be the most conventional married couple in the world!"