Pattie Boyd, face of the swinging 60s, last week said that, in truth, the 80s were better. We asked two Observer writers who grew up in those decades to fight it out…
In October 1962 the 60s began for me, in fear and dread. Since the Soviet Union and the US were at stalemate over the Cuban missile crisis, our future was about to be incinerated in a nuclear mushroom cloud. “Girls,” a teacher instructed us 12-year-olds, “in extremis, seek safety under the nearest table.” No, we weren’t convinced either. Survival, the intoxicating awareness that we had been granted a second chance, meant life could only get better. And, for the rest of the decade, it absolutely did.
