Saturday, July 21, 2007
This is an email from inside the Dome (sent via an outlawed mobile network that isn't O2). I'm sat beside an artificial beach in the main 'square', under the curving millennial roof. Hordes of people, most of them under the age of ten, are swarming over a pile of trucked-in sand, beneath a crown of tall plastic palm trees. Some are digging, some are chucking free beachballs into the air, and some are sitting sullenly on the neighbouring deckchairs. I suspect that some have never seen a beach before. Nobody is buying juice drinks from the over-staffed beach bar. Nobody is smiling at the accordionist dressed as a sea captain. But this small chunk of fake seaside is considerably busier, and noisier, than any stretch of sand at Brighton or Southend. Maybe that's because it's dry. Welcome to the new British summer.
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