Bullshit. Never.

Bank Holiday Monday and my heads pounding with the echoes of "Follow the leadah, follow the leadah, follow the leeadaaah!" I'm swimming in a cocktail of God knows what and that tune won't shake ... and the sound systems are about to kick off in about half an hour ...

...............and Lady Di's dead...

Thank God we cleaned up last night or should I say this morning at 5am. We chucked forty bin liners full of empties out on to the street and watched as the street cleaning machine readied the roads for another bashing today. Couldn't face it now. Some party.

We must have had half the parade through the place. It was heaving. I don't know who was directing traffic but they did a great job in diverting hundreds through our front door. Perpetual motion. Straight up the stairs, pick a beer from the bath on your way through and throw yourself into the throng stretching through the lounge. Up again and into Uts' doss pit - another play room for hangin out of windows three floors high and birds eyeing the view below.

My memories remain solid of the carnival that year. 97? 98? Its easier to recall the event than it is to remember the date. The images are easy and pasting them to the recollected spirit never fails to bring a smile.

Glitter and gold, wire framed giants and steel drums. The parade churning by. An emblazoned mass of smiling kids wrapped in cellophane and feathers. Loud speakers stacked on trucks pounding roots reggae rhythms with drivers spliff filled grins.

Memories and more. Friends and neighbours crowded on the balcony, rotating down the stairs and out on to the street. Dancing on the footpath opposite, dancing with those around us while dancing with those on the balcony above. A dance floor divided by a million passers-by.

And this year? It looked the same. The same smells. The same police (well they all had moustaches) in the same cordons at the same intersections. The floats the same and beats as strong as ever.

The jerk was good but I couldn't taste it. All the ingredients seemed to be there-sooo whhyyyyyyyyyy, why can't I touch it? Because - you want a cliché?

That was then, this is now.

But it was more than a novelty wearing off. More than a "been there done that". A rite of passage? Perhaps, but more again.

It was a carnival Sunday that just came together. It was the combination of Uts' 30th birthday, Lee Perry and Natas for breakfast and a stereo drowned out well before lunch by the Harrow Steel Band. It was Nicks sprained ankle and Taras "I wanna be a bouncer" routine. All mates and loud music. Children running wild.

Yes mi friends, mi good friends,
Dem set mi free again,
Yes mi friends, mi good friends,
We pon dem streets again.
(Bob Marley/Lee Perry - Duppy Conqueror)

Gazz

Contact: gazza_j_1999@yahoo.com