Has multiculturalism really failed?
Fifteen years ago this week, I spent the day with the late Queen. She had come to Turner Contemporary, the gallery in Margate I helped set up and chaired for the best part of a decade. It was Remembrance Day. We had it all decked out, including a rest area containing a new sofa and drinks table. The protocol folk from the Palace didn’t seem to mind that it was the disabled loo. They did ask us discreetly to place a burly member of staff in front of an anti-monarchist punk sketch, as she walked past. Then it was on to lunch and three hours of chat. We breezed through my list of prepared conversation topics – from Downton Abbey (fan) to Boris Yeltsin (not a fan) to the forthcoming London Olympics (judgment reserved). When it came to my speech, I had my flash cards numbered and stacked.