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"As a child growing up in mid-1980s north Kensington, living on the carnival route guaranteed you the finest street party any kid could wish for.

Saadeya Shamsuddin

I grew up on the Holmfield House estate at the top of Golborne Road and was afforded the best view of the Notting Hill Carnival every year from the comfort of the communal balcony.

The two day event was very special for its residents and I relished watching the children's processions on the Sunday - my mum, incidentally, deemed the outfits of Monday's adult parade inappropriate for my innocent eyes until I reached the ripe old age of five!

Perched on his shoulders I'd grab at the balloons and sweets offered by the passing floats, occasionally dropping a sherbet dip or fireball on his head by accident.

The sound systems were so loud you could feel the music throbbing in your veins and the street thudding underfoot.

identical outfits

I'd always wanted to take part in the carnival procession, so when my older brother pipped me to the post by joining the Steel Pans float I was determined to get even.

At the age of six opportunity beckoned.

The play group I was a member of in the Venture Centre in Wornington Road (still in existence today) was to hold a mini procession as part of the children's carnival.

Saadeya's play group in carnival costume

Each child would wear identical outfits embellished with their star sign, complete with matching cardboard crowns and, for some inexplicable reason, painted blue faces.

Thanks to my mum's lack of interest in astrology I ended up wearing the wrong star sign.

She decided I was a Scorpio because it began with the same letter as my name. There was also Sagittarius, but that didn't have quite the same glamorous ring to it, or maybe she just decided a sequinned scorpion on my outfit suited me more than a Sagittarian bow and arrow.

Whatever her reasons, the implications were severe. I believed my star sign was Scorpio until the age of 13, when a bemused school friend corrected my ignorance.

dame edna-style glasses

Despite being deprived of my Libran scales of justice that day, the pride I felt marching as part of the carnival processions I'd watched so often from my balcony was unforgettable.

It may have been a long, hot afternoon, and my face paint may have begun to melt but no one could wipe the smile off my face by the end of the day.

Now in my 20s, I feel the Notting Hill Carnival has changed considerably over the last decade, a reflection of the area itself and a sign of changing times.

I still try to attend every year, though none has ever quite matched up to the carnivals I experienced during my childhood.

Oh, and I've worn glasses ever since, though my taste in frames has improved somewhat."