After the past few years of isolation and misery and disease, everyone’s been dreaming about a holiday. Especially Lydia Blakeley. The English painter’s new show is full of images of empty beaches, tranquil pools, oysters by the sea, deck chairs and lapping waves. They’re fantasies of idealised, wistful, idyllic holidays. But there’s something off about them, something not quite right in all their barren, soft focus, sun-drenched atmosphere: they’re in an uncanny valley of chill, where relaxation is haunted by some unknown threat.