Poundbury in Dorset looked beautiful as it prepared for the King’s arrival. Gardeners were sprucing up flowers; painters were hurrying their ladders into vans; security officers and policemen were positioned on every street corner. But my encounter with the men tasked with keeping us safe left me feeling deeply uncomfortable.
I was there with my 12-year-old daughter and mother and we took up a prime position outside the Monart Spa, where the King was to unveil a plaque.
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