Her memoir now becomes more Candide than Candy, until we reach page 306, at which point she confesses to ‘burning my page-a-day diaries in the early Nineties’. Even if it felt at the time like‘a cleansing’, the gesture has been somewhat negated by the publication of this no-holds-barred memoir, leaving me for one lamenting the loss of a volume which might have been the ultimate memoir of the days when sex, drugs and rock’n’roll were little more than synonyms.
