Such are the pitfalls of public art. The whole point of the new place is the beguiling if fundamentally absurd idea that this hard masonry object is a carpet - curling up a little at one corner, with benches mysteriously peeled in strips out of this pretend-fabric, with bollards pushing though rents in it. Beneath the carpet is, not floorboards, but a mysterious world of hectically-coloured neon light, glimpsed through glass. So it is a magic carpet, then. Moreover, someone has been sweeping something under it. It is not flat, but a very shallow dome. Your knees sense this as you walk across it. It is mildly disconcerting, as is the deliberately overscaled laminated-timber spiral staircase that descends into the space from an upper level.
It is also - let’s get this over with - indeed not very blue at a casual glance. Heatherwick mixed scrap blue glass - from designer sherry bottles - with resin to get his paving slabs. The trouble is that you can’t put too much glass into such material, otherwise it goes crumbly. So a balance has to be struck. Blue enough, as the man said. Blue enough, he hopes, to last 100 years without fading.

