Dammit!
Another year gone, and once again I only realise the Notting Hill Carnival is on when it isn't any more.
Every year, I promise I'll take meself down to the Carnivale to see the Hairy Woman, The Dwarfs, The Fortune Tellers, The Strongman, the Mermaid people and the Freakshow. And go on the rickety ferris wheel.
And I always forget.
Still, from what I can see, the roving carnies and their pickpocketry are a thing of the past, and it's a never-ending stream of silvery spray painted ladies with big feathery hats a-wagglilng their bazookas every which way.
At least they've lept the tradition of knifing the marks, although these days they're left on the street for the Council to take away. Ah, I remember when carnies used to feed their victims to the deformed monstrosity kept in the funhouse.
Still, you pay your council tax, so might as well get your moneys worth!
Although the fortnightly collection may leave a few stiffs about a tad longer than necessary.... (probably all that leering at bare breasted beauties painted up by some lucky Games Workshop geek who's got an award for Best Warrior Woman Miniature decoration. Off his mum).
Still, I promise meself, I will go next year.
