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. My daughter clutched a bunch of flowers so tightly that it lost most of its petals.
As His Majesty greeted the crowds, police officers made their way along the queues of people, straight-faced and eagle-eyed. I felt someone standing directly behind me. I turned. It was a dark-haired, casually-dressed man who clearly wasn’t there to greet the King. He was standing back, scanning the crowd. I noticed that he was wearing an earpiece and realised that he must have been part of the security detail.
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