Welcome
Welcome I remember a time when we all took the Mini for granted, but as the design hits 60, balance will be restored My hypothesis – there are no more than two degrees of separation between anyone who grew up in the Sixties, Seventies or Eighties and a Mini. They were everywhere when I was growing up – cousin Stuart had a red Cooper that he drove flat out everywhere, Mum had a burgundy Clubman, aunt Rosalie had a red Countryman and at least two people on my walk to school had Minis. To this day, when I visit my parents I swear I can still hear the ghosts of those starter motors churning plaintively on damp winter mornings, until they inevitably die with a whurr, rurr, click. A schoolmate,…