It is the 25th of March, 1967, and my father, my then-boyfriend, John, and Dad’s second wife, plus me are on our way to St Austell, in Cornwall, England. We were visiting Dad’s mother, my Granny Bulford, whom I never really knew, as my parents had divorced when I was seven.
We were in Dad’s new white Mini Minor, a small car. In fact, a very small car. Dad’s head bru...