IN THE SOUL of Man under Socialism (1891), Oscar Wilde wrote, ‘A map of the world that does not include Utopia is not worth even glancing at, for it leaves out the one country at which Humanity is always landing.’ Certainly it used to be a popular spot. There was a time when all manner of social reformers, romantic nationalists and religious cranks were to be found lounging on its sandy shores or supping cocktails in its bamboo bars. It was the place to be, and to be seen to be. Now it’s fallen off a bit. Reviews of the accommodation are mixed and the seafront is well past its prime. As with the holiday camps in England I was compelled to go to as a little feller, no one seems quite able to decide if the merriment is genuine or an instance of collective mania.