Notting Hill Carnival

When I was a youngster, I didn’t much want to go to London’s premier carnival. It wasn’t much of a multicultural event. Not much in the way of diversity, not very inclusive. Many things have changed over the years. It’s gone from a troublesome street party known best for after dark riots, to a riotous jamboree of colour, smells, flavour and fun. And now I do want to go. So I did. Although there is still some trouble, sadly. Every year a number of people will have a less than pleasant encounter. And as you’ll see from the boarded up windows, the local shop keepers know what’s best for their businesses.

We were early to arrive and early to leave, so any potential trouble missed us. Except for one very troublesome chap. He’s called many things, mostly starting with curse words. But you know him best as English Weather. He was in a foul mood. And he let everyone know it. It rained from dawn to dusk and through to the next dawn. It often came down cats and dogs. Sometimes it eased off. Just some cats…

But a spot of rain wasn’t going to stop the party. And the drop in temperature wasn’t going to get the girls in the parade donning sweaters. Which was a good things. There’s nothing like a skimpy costume to warm everyone else up. There’s a taster below. For the full booty call, click here and Flickr will provide…

 

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