For onlookers, Notting Hill Carnival, now in its 60th year, is all Pretty Mas costumes, feathers and whistles and sound systems on floats, but often masked by overwhelming negative headlines that don’t truly reflect the spirit of the world’s second largest street festival.
Still, I wouldn’t really know. For the best part of a decade, I’ve spent Carnival weekend on the other side of the crowds, covered in smoke and charcoal.
