Last night I dreamt I had to go to a party, where fortunately I met up with Hotters, who listened in fascination to my thoroughly boring stories (mostly about my dreams of Denny, a post-modern touch).
Later we were in Bellshill, where he used his library card to get us into a country park, reserved for trade union types and other proletarian aristocracy. It was in New Lanark, and because it was members-only, they were able to let in decent proletarians (and their guests like me) and exclude the riff raff.
There were ornamental gardens, swimming pools, cafes and libraries, and everywhere there were crowds of the nicest people imaginable. Everything was in working order (no vandals).
The park rangers drove around in land rovers, checking people's membership.
It was a great system, and the working class went up in my estimation. I could see the benefit of being proletarian. What a pity it was only a dream. I must ask Doc Bob what it means.
- Posted from iPod