Notting Hell

See what I did there? Clever, eh?

No-one ever says they dislike Carnival. It's held up on a pedestal as Europe's largest street party, as an example of London's diversity, as a good time.

I seem to have been more times than not and always come away feeling it's not really for me. The music is great but I've too short an attention span to stick around in one place. The food is fantastic but I'm never usually peckish at the right time. The parade itself? nnyeh, well... the costumes are impressive but everything else seems a bit half hearted. Most of the floats are either plain trucks with sound systems or overly corporate vehicles.

Whether it's Europe's largest street party or not I could certainly understand it being the busiest. The crowded, narrow streets of W11 channel a one-way flow of frustrated and often angry people from questionable vantage point to dubious vantage point. This agressive undercurrent results in pushing and shoving at the best of times; knife attacks at the worst of times.

How about diversity? Diverse, yes but it's by no means a multicultural festival: the token white Notting Hill resident in lavish sparking yellow lycra suit fools nobody. I wonder how representative the parade through the window is of those behind the windows these days? A great Caribbean festival but let's not steal Festival's thunder and misguidedly hijack it as 'London's party'.

Once you've negotiated the tube closures, road blocks, impossible meeting places and the thousands of other people jostling to see the Emperors' new clothes it's not really a good time. It's a curiosity, an attraction to which I'll always feel like a tourist. And if I'm going to be a tourist I'd rather go to Rio.

Building the bypass

There's a line from 'The Men from the Ministry' radio comedy where the Department of Transport had found a wide wiggly road going straight through the middle of London ripe for converting to 6 lanes. It turned out to be the Thames of course. It does look, however, that boats are finally gaining in popularity drawing commuters away from the capital's clogged arteries of roads and underground tunnels.

Only a short while ago plans were announced for a new trial service from Woolwich, soon to undergo huge development and investment, to the 'new city' of Canary Wharf and Docklands. It's just one of the iniatives following gradually increasing numbers on sleak, fast catamarans without congestion charges or signal failures.

It's still a crime how little the Thames is used and although I'm under no illusions about the prospect of hailing a boat a la Shakespeare in Love any time soon: the chances of any boat passing under a bridge as you walk over it are slight. There's also the financial squeeze: on the one side usage isn't at the point where operators can make it economic without subsidy and on the other prices are much higher than other public transport, the travelcard only gives you a small discount etc.

A shame I don't live right by the river or work in the City or Canary Wharf: cruising to and from work every day would be the coolest way to commute until I can afford the helicopter.

Number 57

I wonder if every street of London has a Number 57?

I live on a fairly nice street in South West London: the well-maintained Victorian houses stand proud in their red brick and stone, their owners realising by now the value of their castles in 2005. All seem to take good care of them as a result with manicured front gardens, tasteful driveways and the occasional sympathetic extension. All except one. Number 57.

The facade and garden wall are painted in a thick white with occasional use of yellow and purple near the windows. Those same windows are falling apart and the curtains behind mere rags. The downstairs extension roof is a piece of corrugated steel that wouldn't look out of place on a farm - the pig sty, for example. The worst bit is that there's always, always bags of rubbish half divided between the normal household stuff and junk stuffed into Sainsburys carrier bags.

I can't honestly say that there's no NIMBYism creeping in here, although I daresay I'd have more to complain about if I lived nearby rather than down the road. It's more the waste... the waste of a beautiful house where similar sized properties, replete with water features, are easily fetching over a million.

Isn't this a waste for the owner too? Sitting on all this money and letting it fall down around them either through choice or because they feel they don't have a choice? For goodness sake, if you've got a house of that stature take advantage of the ridiculously high London property values rather than living in squalour.