Summary
On Sunday afternoon, in the Sighthill area of Edinburgh, a little boy called Lewis Reynolds pushed a plunger and set off tons of explosives packed into a row of high-rise flats. Within seconds, the buildings that were once home to 285 families were obliterated, smashed up, transformed into piles of bricks in the middle of clouds of dust.
There can't have been many people who regretted this act of destruction. Those grey high rises were an example of the kind of ugly buildings that have pointed up at the sky in every Scottish city since the 1960s; an experiment that turned nasty, that piled poor families on top of each other, floor after floor, their problems wrapped in concrete. I've always hated what they were, and what they did, and I'm pleased they're dust and rubble now.See the full content of this document
Extract
Destroy Blots On Our Rural Landscape That Trap the Poor
But Sunday's explosion also worried me a little because those plumes of dust could end up hiding something too, something that's connected but different: a kind of ...
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