Every year on the last Bank Holiday weekend of the year in August Notting Hill carnival comes to town. It is an event like no other that brings folks from all around the world to a beautiful part of London that seems to get desecrated beyond belief but with love and fun for music, food, dance, friendship and a whole host of other activities. Everyone seems to have fun to the point where the strong-arm of the law get involved and have a little dance amongst the revellers. It is most definitely a sight that makes sore eyes and for sore eyes.
Luckily for me Carnival weekend tends to fall around the time of my birthday so if I am lucky enough I will book time off work for a double and sometimes quadruple whammy of fun and frolics. This year was one of those quadruple years. The celebrations started on Thursday and carried through until Tuesday morning.
Bosses birthday drinks with work
More drinks with various people
Dinner and drinks with the girls – end of the night = carnage!
SW4 with two best friends
By the time Tuesday morning arrived not only did I end up with a taxi home but I do not remember a lot of carnival as apparently according to my escort and good friend of mine I had such a good time that he had to carry me home. All I can say for that is that there was a lot of rum! Tired and hungover I carried my wet clothes (Carnival Monday was a wash out) with me in the taxi and my friends track suit that he kindly lent me I staggered from the car to my front door in search of the shower and a cup of tea. Shivering slightly I topped up on Vit C as the feeling of a cold were creeping in.
Wednesday morning – I couldn’t eat or breath properly and was shivering like a crazy person. Flu. Or so I thought. By the time Thursday came I was a quivering mess and needed a doctor but being a nurse decided to sweat it out for the night. Nope my body needed the doctor so to the doctor it went where I came out with a prescription for antibiotics and strict orders of bed rest.