1979:

Collect Terry and Maggie and we drive out in the Citroen to George H[arrison]’s for a Python dinner. George scuttles around putting records on the juke-box, playing silly pieces on the piano and generally trying to make everyone feel at home — …

Cleese and I decide that the house would make a superb set . . . “Ripping Towers” . . .

. . .

George confesses to feeling uncomfortable with a “posh” evening like this, which I find reassuring — all the glitter and glamour that money can buy, all the success and adulation, have only affected our George very superficially.