dorling kindersley books

Fast forward. History feels as if it is repeating itself as Jake (the managing editor), and I tumble out of a taxi, and find our way to the same King's Road restaurant (new decor, new trading name) to find a slimmed-down Wyman team of Bill and Richard (backs again to the wall) engaged in an polite conversation with the wine waiter:

"It's corked"

"It is not possible, signor"

"Why were you smelling it then?"

"Maybe you are right, signor"

"I think we'll try something else, OK?"

"Certainly, sir"

You don't, after all, argue with a Senior Rock Star.

As it turns out the replacement bottle(s) are excellent, as is the food. There are various office groups out on their Christmas lunches, but the seasonal spirit is soon overwhelmed by a greater sense of excitement. The Blues Odyssey is doing well, Bill and Richard only recently returned from an author's tour of the States where the enthusiasm had been tangible, and they are keen to get on with the next project, the Big One.

For some fifteen years it has been common knowledge, at least on the gossip circuit, that Bill Wyman amassed a collection of material over the years, in fact over all the years he had been a Rolling Stone, since 1962. Quite what that collection comprised probably only Bill knew. But the word was it was vast. And unpublished. In addition, he had kept a diary down all those years, not necessarily a literary work of art but a detailed account, day by day, a core and authoritative reference resource. Much of the diary had been used to write Stone Alone, but the material collection is still untapped.

Pleased with the Blues Odyssey project, Bill had already signed a contract with DK based on the publishing opportunities his collection afforded. Over this lunch those opportunities begin to swim into focus.

Original letters, playbills, contracts, bank and royalty statements, classified ads, posters, unpublished photos, home videos, instruments, stage costumes, and examples of all the merchandising paraphernalia which accreted around the Stones as the PR and money men began to milk the rock and roll circus from the early '70s onwards. It seemed he'd got the lot. If not the lot, then most of it.

"If you use one percent of what I've got in this book, I'll be surprised"

Meaningful glances with Jake. This is a beast of a project. How are we going to cage it, tame the material into pages? Maybe this Christmas isn't going to be so relaxed after all. Wyman and Richard have been working on the project since August, and have got into the groove. We've got material we can work with. But we've got to complete in five months.

Quite a few stories later, with visions of the pages of the book lining up like expectant groupies, Jake leaves for home, while Richard and I walk Wyman down the road to his office, then see him off home. He's not worried, it's going to be fun, but not as much fun now as picking his daughter up from school and planning a family Christmas in the country.

Richard and I swap ideas, try to develop gameplans. In a taxi back to corporate HQ in the Strand we iron out the wrinkles in the system. The book is going to be around 500 pages; it has to be completed by June to make an autumn 2002 publication; and we have to build a small but efficient team. Too many links, too many footsoldiers, means time wasted; problems must be resolved on the wing. And on a prayer. Presumably just like running a Rolling Stones tour.