In this time of social ferment, it feels surreal to look back on ‘The Summer of Love’, whose fundamental premise was that people should be nice to each other – novel at the time, risible today. It may not have been a perfect world in 1967 – the Vietnam War was a constant on the news – but you could laugh without looking over your shoulder and there was optimism in the air. If you were 21 and newly arrived in London, anything seemed possible, and given that Jimi Hendrix toured with Engelbert Humperdinck, it probably was.
The appeal of that year, what made it for me different from any other, I can’t define beyond a melange of music, movies, humour (remember that?) and, of course, motor racing. For that brief time every aspect of life seemed to add to every other. Miniskirts didn’t hurt, either.