wet wet wet

The local Anatolian Festival would have wound up any UKIP voter - the park full of turkish people, women in headscarves, eating pide. But actually it was just like most British summer fetes; lots of marquees with wooden tables and that strange tent/contained grass smell; lots of food stalls selling kebabs and burger and chips; a sound stage with echoing microphones, an over-large presenter and small children standing around looking shy; amateur acts of all sorts; and people dressed up in costumes seeming made out of badly dyed nylon.

And most importantly  - and making it a proper British May fete - it was pouring with rain, the ground was turning to a quagmire, and the marching band didn't look like they were going anywhere soon.

voting voting voting

Couldn't really justify being too lazy/disaffected/distracted to vote this time around; particularly when the polling station was so close, the whole process took about three minutes.

London, as usual, turns out to be a bit of an 'island' compared to the rest of the country. We are a diverse bunch - and have mainly got used to it - so that the easy blame of migration for our troubles doesn't really work here, or at least not for a majority. The UK Independence Party hardly got a look in, in the local elections.