Sunday 28 August - Notting Hill

Decide to continue the relatively simple journeys and head off to the Notting Hill Carnival. I haven't been for decades. In the early 80s friends lived on the carnival route and so we could sit in the window and watch the parade go past and look down on the crowds. There are people selling whistles and vuvuzelas.

The carnival seems bigger and more organised now. People used to walk alongside the floats, now they don't. Stewards keep everything and everyone moving constantly. The sound systems are even more powerful and the sensation is less sound than feeling the beat reverberate through every muscle and sinew. Today is the day of the children's parade. The parade at times struggles to get past the photographers who are in front of every costume. There are minders behind each truck, keeping everything moving. A girl who is enjoying having an audience just that little bit too much, is moved on by the minder. She's taking too long, things need to run to time and he encourages her to move on and leave her audience.

Every few streets there are lines of portaloos which seem to be being used as points where people have left their rubbish. There are extraordinary amounts of litter, the detritus of food and drink and it is only just past lunchtime. The longest queues are for cash machines, where dozens snake in line waiting to get some cash. Almost all the shops are boarded up, only a few pubs and coffe shops are open. Paul Smith has at least painted their hoardings and wishes everyone a happy carnival. The others are plain boards, although the graffiti artists have been busy already.

There are thousands of people, in every direction there are people upon people. Police have closed some of the streets, but in between there are masses. Most are young, most are white. The carnival is much bigger than it used to be, but also seems to have become more of a tourist attraction. Everyone wants to take photographs and this holds up the parade. Smoke rises in the streets, meat is being barbecued on every street. Everywhere people are eating and drinking, Red Stripe and jerk chicken, which smells fantastic.

The music is rising, there is more and more dancing in the streets, but then down comes the rain and everyone heads for shelter. The heavens open, the streets are briefly running with water and the doorways fill with people. I am drenched and look like a drowned rat. There are youngsters out with video cameras chatting to people who have come to watch. Around All Saints Road there is a difference in the audience. The posh kids have arrived by tube at Notting Hill and walked north. The local youth have walked south and this is where the two are not really mingling. There is more music and dancing, but also more attitude.

I drift back through Hyde Park, the bass beat echoes in the distance but the Carnival feels like a world away. The park is filled with families feeding the ducks and geese. There are hundreds of adolescent starlings trying to steal bread from everyone and squealing as they go. A brass band are playing show tunes and attracting a small crowd. It's only a mile away but it's another world.

I end up drifting back through the park, followed by a very bold squirrel and walking through Hyde Park Gate - where I lived when I first moved to London in the mid 70s. Then it was possible to live centrally even if you weren't earning much (although you might have to share a room). What used to be cheap rented accommodation has now been fancied up and is evidently a very luxury home. Waiting for a bus home I am tempted into Slightly Foxed, a delightful bookshop where I find a proof copy of J B Priestley's English Journey. It's a tale of his travels around England in 1933. I've been trying to get a copy for months, so this feels like a real find. Home it is, reading about the luxuries of Priestley's motorbus journey to Southampton. He talks of modernity and it's interesting to see that talk of modernity has been around for a long time.