‘I am very old,” said Françoise Hardy, who was then aged 69 and had just refused to shake my hand – she hurriedly explained that “germs are spread by hands” – and continued by saying, “and I am no longer strong. I get so tired.” Okay, I thought, here we go: diva time.
I had just been ushered into Hardy’s apartment in southwest Paris and, to be honest, I had no idea what to expect. It was April 2013 and Hardy’s latest album had just been released in the UK, her first in a good while. I was here to interview her for the many of whose readers would surely recall Hardy from the mid-1960s, when she was a pop star and one of the
