The invitation to pop off for a spot of time travelling is almost too good to be true. The problem is where to go?
As soon as I choose a destination like Elizabethan court just before Elizabeth signs the death warrant of Mary, Queen of Scots I remember that in those times I'd have been suffering form some ghastly disease and fading fast. That's assuming I hadn't died in childbirth either as the baby or mother. So all the lovely historical times I rule out because I don't want to suffer or watch others doing so.
This leaves me with the mid to late 20th century, some of which I lived through! But there is one year that, although I was alive at the time, I was a child and on the wrong side of the Atlantic to be part of. So I choose 1967, Haight-Ashbury and the summer of love. Fabulous music, great festivals, awakening environmental and political consciousness. And I get to dress as a hippy!
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