Loud and proud festival still floats London's boat

Now in its 42nd year, the Notting Hill Carnival began as an imitation of the carnivals of Trinidad, and found increasing popularity as an opportunity for homesick West Indians to celebrate and recreate the colourful, rowdy processions they remembered from their homelands. Neither riots in the Seventies, nor ongoing safety concerns about up to one million people in a confined space, have put the brakes on Carnival.

Gallery: Notting Hill Carnival in pictures

This year Carnival brought a huge geographical area into its orbit. From Kensington High Street right up to Queens Park and beyond, there were crowds of revellers. After crossing Notting Hill Gate, the closer we got to the route of the floats, the denser became the crowds, the stronger the aroma of hundreds of barbecues cooking West Indian favourites, and the deeper the beats and bass lines of the sound systems.

Most floats played soca, the fast, bouncy Trinidadian combination of soul and calypso. The static sound systems on street corners pumped out reggae, hip-hop, dancehall and house.

Bizarre sights included a man selling hugs, an out-of shape gent in his forties bearing a sign saying "Will Strip For Food", and the superb London Fire Brigade float, containing a surprisingly talented rapping firefighter whose favourite lyrical content revolved around smoke alarms. The RAF's whistles and T-shirts were a hit even with the DJs at the hip-hop heavy Mastermind sound system.

Suddenly we found ourselves at a scary bottleneck, which led a small minority of drunk idiots to jostle people violently - confirming in my mind that Carnival is no place for children. With a stabbing and a shooting, it was easy to see why arresting cannabis smokers did not seem a top police priority. By posing for photos and donning flower garlands, officers did a good job in maintaining order and enhancing the atmosphere of a truly London phenomenon.