Dreamland

I've just returned from an evening at Margate's 'Dreamland with my daughter.



Dreamland lies somewhere between Bruegel and Bosch, at least in the faces of the people you see there. The genetics of the medieval period are alive and well in an amusement park in Margate and I wished I could paint.

Among them are Iraqi families, eastern Europeans and Africans, a tower of Babel under the roller coaster. My daughter only sees glamour of the amusement park and is blind to the seedier side of existence.



A little girl in front of us, alone on the roller coaster, turned around and asked "Does your Dad live with your Mum still? Mine doesn't, he's in Slovakia" A comment on the times perhaps.

So after being spun and soaked and watched my daughter stay on the rodeo bull and win a certificate, I guess I'm too old for Dreamland, which has changed so very much since I first visited in the sixties when Margate still had a pier.

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