My house in Ramsgate is about three miles from Margate, and I see no way to remedy that. But this weekend sees, as every national newspaper has reported, the opening of the Turner Contemporary, which is magically going to reverse a century of decline and two decades of dumping of difficult social services and asylum cases from may score miles away, with no help or social provision.
Anyway, all the newspapers also say there will be a weekend of festival. I am not so mean as to ignore a celebration on my doorstep, so I am trying to find out what is happening. I may be stupid, but I don’t find that the Turner’s website actually helps much in telling me where to be when. And doubtless the wine and hors d’oeuvres are reserved for important people from London. I suspect this may be a fair portent of the coming relationship between the Turner Contemporary and those of us who actually live around here.