01/09/2026
I don’t live in West London anymore, and the rain was threatening to drown out the sun, but I gathered myself and made the journey down to Notting Hill yesterday. I had to be there because Carnival turned 60 this year!
What started as a small fete in 1959 has become the second largest street festival in Europe, which contributes approx £4million to the London economy. That’s some achievement!
Over the years, the naysayers have tried to curtail it , cancel it and confine it. But it has survived.
I’m a west London girl, so maybe that’s why I can’t stay away. Maybe it’s the music. Maybe it’s the food. Maybe it’s just the joy of seeing free Black bodies moving without apology, feathers and sequins catching the light, no room for inhibitions. Free. Loud. Ours.
I’ve played mas, sold patties, balloons, and been a reveller - so the pull is strong.
Beyond the glitz, the bump and grind, Carnival is here to stay because it was born out of rebellion by the newly freed enslaved Africans in Trinidad.
We are a people who’ve lived through struggle, and yet still find the joy in life and Carnival gives full expression to our creativity and freedom of spirit.
So I guess that’s why when Carnival beckons, I jump.
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