Close your eyes for a moment and imagine a swooning hot summer's day at the coast. It is low tide, and you have to look far beyond the shimmering sands for a glimpse of the sea. Then picture the beach and long promenade. But where are the serried ranks of deck chairs? What's happened to the funfair and crazy golf? And the only donkeys in sight are buckling beneath heavy loads as they are led to a line of woollen mills – as dark as they are satanic – belching vile clouds into the blue sky
