Irie!

Bank Holiday weekend was alright. Usually, it's a much bigger deal. A big rave to go to, new outfit, a load of excitement due to the three day weekend. But because we're all gearing up for a weeklong holiday in Malaga next month, everyone's saving themselves. That said, I did manage to pack in a BBQ, Carnival on Sunday and a rave Sunday night. Like I said, it was a quiet one.

Clarke wasn't mad about going to Carnival, but I insisted. "It's your heritage. If you yout's don't go, it gives 'them' more reason to take it away from 'us'." Now that I'm older, I'm not mad about the constant walking, the crush, and the bad boys running through the crowds, but the weather was nice, and we planned to go to just two spots, and stay a couple hours.

There is nothing like raving outdoors, sound systems on the road, and a chance to see lots of brothers in wifebeaters. Mmmm. I gave the jerk chicken a miss (can't beat mama's cookin') and brought my own raspberry vodka tonic in a water bottle. You know dem way dere. We went to Rampage for the kids and there was a white boy beatboxing the Godfather. Suzie Wong was not impressed. When the music started, as is often the case, I was raving more than the kids, and was embarassing mine. It seems that when your a tweenager, it's not actually cool to dance in public. Everyone was having a really good time, and there was lots of Soul 2 Soul type vibes up in the place 'a thumping bass for a loving race'. At Rappattack (I made one of my first tracks with them) sound system on All Saints Road, it was just wicked. Pure 80s soul, big people (adults) and just a really nice vibe. We were stood next to the brother from Corrie who was getting lots of attention, and Kate Moss's babyfather Jefferson Hack walked past with his supercool nose in the air.

My gran used to have a stall at the Carnival, and we used to stay up all night with her as she fried fish and dumplin' to sell with her friend Auntie Thema. I fell in love with a green eyed mixed-race boy who was there with his family selling drinks. I must have been about 11. We walked around together hand in hand, and shared a kiss in the back of his Dad's van. I gave him my number and desperately awaited the phonecall. I waited and waited. Not being a passive type of gyal, I enlisted Shazby to go on a trip to his manor. As we walked out the station, down the road, I saw him. And her. Love fucking hurts. No change there then.

Me and my sister were at Carnival during the riots of the 70s. We had to run across the street into a house where all the windows were shattered to shelter from the unrest. They used to have creches under the flyover, and my mum and dad would leave us there for a few hours, go and rave and come back for us. We would be covered in paint, but happy. They used to sell these helium balloons, and it was such a treat to get one (really showing my age now). We would eat some sugar cane, and get a snow-ice (just ice with syrup). Then we would walk the frontline with our parents, where they would see all their bredrens who would give us money. Not shrapnel, but notes. Real money, which we would give to our mum would hold, which would inevitably end up in our bellies.

Then as a b-girl I used to hang with Westwood under the flyover, where all the whole UK hip-hop scene would congregate. Carnival has been a showcase for all new black music, and welcomed it and it's practitioners into the fold. It's had it's problems over the years, but it seems that these are behind it now. After Sunday, I think I will make a point of touching down for a couple of hours every year, just to make sure this important part of our heritage is being kept intact.