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My summer of love

Features | By Jo Boissevain


A posh girl’s summer of love

It was 1967, when hippie dreams of peace and love migrated from San Francisco across the Atlantic. Ingrid Jo Boissevain was a sixteen-year-old grammar school girl, an architect’s daughter, living in Tadworth, Surrey. Fifty years on, here is her diary of those sunny months

Tuesday, 30th May – Surrey My face is gruesomely red. Read a jolly good article on pop music in yesterday’s Times – one of the best articles I’ve ever read. William Mann [the music critic] thinks The Beatles’ new LP is marvellous, and that ‘A Whiter Shade of Pale’ is ‘beautiful and Bach-derived’. But I’m so MAD: Mummy’s taken the paper down to the rabbit hutch, so I’ll have to go down the moment I wake to save it. Drew quite a good picture of Dutronc [astonishingly attractive young German I met on a skiing holiday] in ski-clothes in my rough book. Somehow, I can’t see myself falling in love with him. It would be so lovely though, if I did fall in love with Dutronc and he fell in love with me. I’m sure he’s awfully nice – despite what Daddy says about him having no deep feelings. My...


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