Boys, Boys, Boys!
Any girl who's reached the age Of seventeen or thereabouts Has but one desire in view She knows she has reached the stage Of needing one to care about Nothing else will really do We've got to have, We plot to have, For it's a dreary not to have That certain thing called The Boy Friend. - Sandy Wilson, The Boy Friend musical 💞 S eventeen? I was still in love with Ricky Nelson at seventeen! No, the boyfriend thing didn’t happen for me until I was twenty-one, and even then it was a long-distance romance with a lovely Spaniard from Seville named Juan-Bosco Fernandez Vial (my mum called him Bosco the Biscuit). I met him in 1965 on the island of Menorca, and for 10 glorious days we danced in the moonlight, kissed on the beach, held hands walking the cobbled streets, and I sobbed all the way home on the plane. I hasten to add, though, there was no hanky-panky. No siree, none at all. I was still a virgin and somewhat teased for it by my far more adventurous London flatmates