The warmth seeped into my milky skin, making it tender to touch. I savoured the rare, strong rays which wrapped around my pink shoulders like a woolen shawl. Through my dark glasses the grass was a bright shade of green, stretching forward as far as the eye could venture. The sky was the lightest shade of baby blue with a solo cloud in the obscure shape of a seal. To my left was deep crimson and orange bricks, survivors to hundreds of years of weather. The flag waved gently at the top of the castle in the soft breeze. This image was so serene, so tranquil. I reached for my novel and read the first twenty crisp pages. Great Gatsby was definitely one of my favourites I decided. However something about this setting didn’t feel right. Cars wizzed past, polluting the atmosphere. A big, brown ugly building stood opposite the enchanting castle. Ancient and modern. Seventies designs and beautiful architecture. The contrasts could not have been more stark. Next to the rancid building, a faded hairdressers, a local news agents selling ‘the cheapest booze in town’. Surrounding great culture is the threat of the modern world.