LOST AT NOTTING HILL

On the 28th of August in 2022, I met up with a group of friends from school in the morning before heading out to Notting Hill Carnival.

I hadn’t seen them in years, so we started the day in the best possible way: a few drinks at the flat of the friend who lived closest to the festival. Naturally, I brought my camera so there were a few photos, a few more drinks, and eventually a gentle migration towards the festival itself by mid-morning.

Now, I had actually been to Notting Hill a few years prior with a disgraced ex and two good school friends of mine (neither of whom were present for this particular outing). So it wasn’t my first rodeo,I already knew I enjoyed it with all the colour, music and sheer magnitude of it all.

And on the 28th it was exactly that again familiar, loud, joyful and a welcoming celebration where everyone was invited. It was a bloody good time as we larked about wandering through the streets enjoying the festivities, eating phenomenal food from locals out of their own homes because why not? As they say you can't beat home cooking especially when they serve you with open arms and laughter! So we continued our day laughing and dancing and very likely drinking more than we would care to admit before eventually heading home safe and sound.

The 29th however, was a different beast entirely.

In hindsight, I probably should have taken the words of my friend Ben (an old school friend who was now a London police officer) a little more seriously….. He had been working the 28th and gave me a heads up about certain roads becoming heavily overcrowded and where was best to be avoided but he also mentioned that people were already anticipating the next day would be much worse.

On the morning of the 29th, I met up with Josh (a friend from university) who was also heading to the festival that day deciding to tag along with his group for the first few hours before peeling off to do my own wandering. They’d already been to the festival a few times and took me through some quieter residential streets, where food stands were tucked away like little treasures between houses and a variety of different songs and music collide into a concoction of rhythms, It had a different flow to the main routes, more relaxed.

After a while I decided to say my goodbyes to the group, though the vibes were good I would be remiss to mention that the smell of “Giggle smoke” lingered in a much thicker concentration down the back roads and though for some the smell is better than fresh air for me personally the smell itself has always been bizarre, not to mention it always makes me want to fall asleep even if im standing! So I called it before I nodded off and set off on my own small adventure.

By midday, I had found myself doing what I often seem to do in crowded places, clambering upwards. In this case I’d found myself among the metal beams of the Ladbroke Grove bridge in North Kensington looking down over the flow of people moving with the parade below.

From my nest the festival looked like something between a river and a storm system. Floats and sound systems moving through streets packed with colour and motion, people dancing, singing and laughing. I even managed to capture a photograph of a man, having danced his way to the very top of the bridge (even higher than myself) had then decided to casually settle down to sunbathe as if the festivities below were nothing but ants to a child, interesting but non consequential in a rather absurd but lovely way.

At first, everything felt relatively slow from my vantage point but within half an hour the crowds thickened dramatically. It became almost impossible to move anywhere quickly at ground level making me feel rather pleased with my choices. That feeling however, didn't last…. Once the majority of the crowd had passed (or at least what I thought had been the majority) I decided it was time to head home. At approximately 17:00-17:30 I descended and began walking in the opposite direction of the parade south down Over The Ladbroke Grove aiming for the tube via notting hill gate so I could get the tube home.

This was where things started to go downhill.

Now for some context:

• At this point I was still using an older Canon camera that had once belonged to my godmother, the very camera I had originally learned photography on. It was already over a decade old by this point and another friend of mine, a professional fashion photographer, had kindly lent me his Canon R6 while I was considering whether to upgrade.

• By the time i left the bridge it was around 5:30PM and i had gone almost the entire day without any liquid (toilets are hard to come by and I’m not one to pop a squat in an alleyway or road side)

• London in August is HOT and not in the fun way.

So, as I happily pottered on I got no more than perhaps 300m when it quickly dawned on me that the crowd hadn't thinned as i had originally thought, it had had simply been blocked further down stream and I was too deep to go back so my main focus became simple: keep the camera safe, after all to loose or break another photographers camera is like breaking an artists arm, a mortal sin.

When I say things become tight, I don’t mean snug, I’m talking the equivalent of two sardine cans crammed into one container. Now I’m 5ft10 without shoes, and yet I could barely see over the crowd. The density of people reached a point where movement stopped being voluntary. You were carried as much as you were walking, out of reach I had seen a much smaller girl get knocked over and physically walked over multiple times to the point of her screaming, finally a few people had the decency to stop using her as a doormat and help her to her feet but you could see she was already in visible distress.

Breathing shortly became a difficult feat. Space became theoretical. And in the back of my mind, unhelpfully, the memory of the Hillsborough disaster surfaced. It was before my time but my family are Liverpool supporters so I grew up hearing stories about it. About overcrowding. About panic. About people being unable to move or breathe in situations that should never have become what they did.

I know, logically, it is not the same thing. But logic is not always what leads in moments like that.

For context, the Hillsborough disaster in 1989 saw 97 Liverpool fans lose their lives in a crush at a football match due to overcrowding and major failures in crowd control. It is one of those events that sits in the background of your awareness without you ever expecting it to feel relevant to your own life.

But in that moment, surrounded by heat, pressure, shouting, and the feeling of being physically compressed, it came to mind in a very immediate way.

And I began to panic.

I wasn’t just trying to move or breathe. I was also trying to protect the camera, which added a second layer of responsibility to an already overwhelming situation. And then, on top of that I became very aware of people behaving in ways that were predatory, taking advantage of the crush.

I could hear others yelling and screaming how they couldn't move or breathe or to “get off!” and soon I felt the wandering hands of strangers grope me. I would like to say that I turned around and punched/kicked whoever those hands belonged to but as quickly as they had grabbed the hands would vanish, so when I snapped my head around to find the culprit I realised there was no way of knowing who it was….. I was quite literally surrounded by men, Not a single woman stood within arms reach of me.

So I froze clinging to the camera like a liferaft as it dawned on me that I was in a position where I couldn’t safely turn, couldn’t safely confront, and couldn’t safely escape in any direction. Until that moment I had always managed to safely get myself out of any dodgy situations in life predominantly unharmed but now the panic truly gripped me like a vice.

It felt, for a period of time, like there was no correct option. Just survival and small, careful decisions made second by second. Eventually a small group of girls broke through the group of men hand in hand slipping their way through the crowd like you would work your way through a crowned night club not forward but to the left of me towards the buildings, naturally I joined the chain and eventually we made it to a group of police officers by temporary fencing put in place for the festival.

It would seem those girls had experienced something similar and had spotted that the police were using the area to overlook everything so when we all explained what was happening we were allowed through the fenced barrier into what was some sort of safe space.

They checked on me as I stood by myself checking the camera was still intact. I tried to explain everything: the pressure of the crowd, people shouting that they couldn’t breathe, that girl being trampled, pushed and the harassment I had experienced. They listened, but when I asked what the next steps were, what further steps were needed for my statement, He paused…. He then proceeded to tell me that in a crowd that size identifying individuals responsible for specific actions would be extremely difficult if not impossible, and in all likelihood, nothing could realistically be done aside from letting people behind the barrier to collect themselves.

I remember being genuinely shocked by how final that sounded, All those police officers by the barriers and in the nearby Catalyst Community building overlooking everything and that was it….. That was all they could do, watch.

As I stared at him with what was likely a face of outstanding confusion he apologised and told me I could stay behind the barrier for as long as I needed before pointing me towards a quieter exit route between buildings that would take me away from the main flow of people.

With that I was left to my own devices and for a while, I just stood there trying to reset. Watching the crowds continue. Listening to other women being brought aside reporting similar experiences. It gave the whole day a different weight and in hindsight I think that was the beginning of a much longer emotional buildup of adrenaline and distress that would come and reside in me like waves throughout the day never truly giving me enough time to digest and reset so everything kept licking higher and higher until ultimately high tide would hit.

Before setting off i sent Josh a message warning him and the rest of his friends at 18:27 not to go the main route and whatever they do they should avoid it explaining what was happening, He was worried about my safety so i let him know i was in a safe area and “I’m ok just a bit shaken”.

Adding extra spice to this entire experience, google maps was doing a cracking job of doing a shit job. Unfortunately because of the density of the crowds the signal/google maps couldn't seem to cope so having a guided route to the nearest station seemed to be a no go, Joy. With that I proceeded through the passageway that the officer had pointed me towards earlier, putting me onto Murchison Gardens road hoping that it would put me on a better path.

As I trudged away from the first wave of the day in search of salvation Ben once again popped me a message, he was working the carnival that day as well, he told me to be careful and that the area i had just left wast starting to get dangerous so i should leave it now because gangs had begun to fight one another. I might have been nearly crushed within an inch of my life but at least I had managed to miss any fighting! |(silver linings and all that) to which i responded “I’M TRYING”

I should note that like google maps whatsapp was as useful as tits on a bull so my messages between myself and friends was sporadic in both sending and receiving, some were trying to find me routes out or give me a heads up on danger zones and in true fashion I was often receiving them too late.

Progressively as the night continued route ideas were sent my way, officers were questioned for directions and I pushed my way through the swelling crowds to find that elusive exit and yet every time, yes every time, I was sent a suggestion or pointed in a direction I was met with blocked roads, closed tube stations at times crowds so dense I was too cautious to enter again, I could feel myself choking back panic.

Eventually (and despite my best efforts I fail to remember exactly what location this was at) I found myself passing under some sort of bridge along with the crowds. It was starting to get dark, I had been wandering for hours and I was exceedingly dehydrated. As we passed under the bridge I had been on the lefthand side of the road but caught a flash of officers' uniform on the right side so I battled my way across through the masses to the blockades to once again try to find my way out.

This time however I wasn't simply told to try a random direction, an officer (who I lament I cannot recall the name of) allowed me to come to the calmer side of the barricade along with a few other girls that had begged to be let in as well by his partner. I had told him that I had been trying to leave notting hill carnival since about 17:00 and hand been able to find a way out, what I hadn't realised was that apparently on the other side of the road was a tube station (Just like the officers name The stations name illudes me) He incredibly kindly offered to escort me there and when the other girls had heard this they begged to be brought along as well so the plan was us 4 would be escorted across by the two officers.

Sorted right? HA- no. As was my luck that day, not at all.

We got perhaps half way across the road before we heard screaming and the crowd became erratic once again, sharing a quick glance the officers clearly decided they couldn't get us across safely so they fell back bringing us with them behind the barriers once again. Apparently there had been a stabbing/attempted stabbing in the crowd so there was now no way to cross to the other side of the road or at least any time soon. And that, was the seventh wave that broke the harbor wall.

The officer that had let me through the barrier must have seen the shift on my face as he offered for me to come down one of the quieter side roads not far behind the barrier, there was one or two other people taking a moment to breathe as well. He popped me down on the high curb and asked me if everything was alright.

Needless to say I wasn't, I explained I had been out all day, been told every wrong way to go and that I hadn't been able to leave for hours, I didn't know where I was and my phone wasn't working.

He gave me an incredibly kind smile as he proceeded to reassure me and say “Here take these” before handing me an orange capri sun and some sort of electrolyte jelly thing that looked a bit like a froob (rip their heads off and suck their guts out sort of thing) he insisted it was alright for me to take them after I asked if he was sure then followed up with “Now, is there anyone you would like to call? To let them know you are alright?”

The first person that came to mind and the person I knew would pick up right away was my mother. It might sound silly considering i was in the middle of London and she was in rural Leicestershire but after everything that had happened sometimes just talking to your mum or dad is all you want or need.so without a second thought I told him I wanted to talk to my mum he handed me his satellite phone that he assured me would work even in the crowds, with that he left me to talk to my mother in private.

It could be argued that I am a proud woman but I'm not ashamed to admit that when I heard my mothers voice on the other side of the line I did in fact proceed to ugly cry and hyperventilate like a pillock. My poor mother hadn't a clue what was going on until she eventually managed to calm me down and figure out the bones of what was going on. She got me to pull my shit together, take a breather and to ask the officer the closest main road that wasn't associated with the carnival so that I could hail a taxi to get home. Calm, efficient and to the point but still caring and what i needed in that moment.

By the time the call was over the officer had returned and asked if everything was alright I had thanked him deeply for letting me borrow his phone and repeated what my mother had told me to do, he had said "You're more than welcome, i have two little girls of my own and i’d like to think that if anything were to happen to them someone would help them as well” the way he said that has stuck with me ever since, the sincerely and kindness in his voice and the warmth of his face was a shining light in what had otherwise been a terrible afternoon.

He had asked if I was sure that I wanted to leave? That if I stayed where I was he would help me across the road later when things had been sorted but that he couldn't guarantee that it would happen any time soon, I said I was sure and asked him to please point out what would be the best way to go, he pointed down the main road that the barricade he pulled me behind sat on, and that if i went strait it should take me towards the quieter side of notting hill carnival, It was quieter that way but there was no way to completely avoid it from where we were based. With that I thanked him again avidly and set off on my way.

(On the very slim chance that the officer that helped me ever reads this and remembers anything of our encounter I just want to say thank you. I have thought about that moment many times over the years and everytime I do I hope that you and your girls are doing well from the bottom of my heart so people like yourself deserve the world.)

At this point I had also messaged my friend Aaren whose camera I had borrowed. I was in a group chat with his lovely wife Emily who I had become fast friends with explaining the situation and everything that had unfolded and once again they joined the effort to try and get me home through broken communication.

It turned out the two of them had been out that evening and so they decided they would try and physically meet me. Josh had also suggested I try to go to queens park at 20:47 as he could see from my location near Westbourne station but wasn't able to access the tube. Though my route had been quieter as the officer promised I couldn't turn to the way Josh suggested, instead I decided to keep walking towards paddington station which was the direction the crowds were thinnest and the direction Aaren and Emily were. Continuing to walk I found that the reason the crowds were thinning was because I'd seemingly found the end of the parade route, i was walking among parked floats,coaches and dancers with their shoes off as they sluggishly walked home through quieter cleaner streets.

At this point it felt that whatever had a grip on my chest was starting to loosen it’s grip now that the end was in sight and after a bit more walking Aaren and Emily found me and the camera still intact if not somewhat exhausted.

To assure my poor mother i was now safe we sent her a quick selfie and the pair took me part of the way home to where i needed to change stops to get to Black horse road station, I insisted I would be fine and thanked them both for being incredibly sweet and refusing to leave me wandering around like a lost child.

Eventually I made it back home at around 23:00 and let everyone that had been helping me know that I had finally landed at home base and thanked them all for the help and hell i’d put them through.

Will I ever do something like this again? ….. Probably! If I have a chance to get stuck in the thick of things I'll take it, you can't go through life wrapped in bubble wrap, though I might avoid going without water next time. I’d like to think that despite the lows of the day I was still shown the kindness of not just friends and family but strangers and I think that's a beautiful thing.

Keep safe and keep exploring!

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