Copyright © Anita Ibru

Living On The Edge?

Last Friday I was power-walking home from the gym, via the usual route, up Kensington Church Street, towards Notting Hill Gate. I was using up my last reserve of energy and unusually, I stopped in my tracks. For the sight ahead of me was one of pure irony. The antique shops on the border of Kensington and Notting Hill were holding some sort of street party. Party it was. ‘Street’? I think NOT.

There I was, on that beautiful summer evening, sunset was approaching and there were bursts of colour ahead of me and I thought that the Notting Hill Carnival had come early. Then I spotted the shoes. Typical. Jimmy Choos and Manolo Blahnicks. A far contrast from the W11 staple – trainers, both for the fit and unfit. And no darling, the brightly coloured and pastel Pashminas, neatly-blown up yellow balloons and fake tan were not to be mistaken for the firey explosion of colours and floats typically seen in the area during that August-end bank holiday weekend.

Gosh! Those people from SW3 really had no idea about how to hold a street party. They certainly did not have edge an either. Maybe a few designer fringes, nice neat little trimmings but none of that urban - je ne sais quoi. As for music, the nearest to ‘sounds’ were the hooting of passing vehicles indicating that their little balloon-drawn carriages get out of the way.

Then there was another safety hazard – the knocking out of innocent bystanders and windscreens with champagne corks. As for food, I was not greeted with the whiff of barbeque, beer or the smells normally associated with street parties. No sweeties. It was pre-ordered canapés, and delicate little bities and eaties for the loitering ladies and gentlemen. So Sloanies, please return to your cosy little hideaways and manicured gardens in the real core of the Royal Borough, keep your frills and trills, balloons and bubbles neatly where they belong, and leave us Hillbllies alone on the fringes to enjoy chilled summer evenings in peace.