We arrived at the Kentish Town Community Festival as our MP, in a tight fitting suit, was being mobbed by a posse of friendly men demanding a group selfie. A furtive man slipped a Socialist Worker flyer in my hand. The EU referendum was a sideshow, apparently. It was gusty but the community was out, being a community. There were cupcake stands (popular), a display of crafted goods (less popular), people I knew, people I didn’t know, and people I recognised despite not knowing them. The ones that stood out on the high street because of their funny hair or OCD mannerisms. This was my community. My heart swelled.
We bumped into Alex, a boy in my youngest son’s class, clutching a pound coin. He was queueing up for an ice-cream all by himself. It was his first time ever, ordering by himself, he told us proudly. His father stood a few paces away, like a security detail. Further on, more familiar faces, mostly parents, could be seen bopping to the live set by the football pitch, impersonating their younger festival-going selves. Young girls swayed their hips seductively, impersonating their future selves. There was hula hooping.
It began to rain, more steadily. Umbrellas went up. The community stood firm. My sons’ school gospel choir was up next. They opened with Like A Bridge Over Troubled Water, a song that showcased the soulful talents of one Year 6 girl. Her voice cracked on the high notes and she cringed with embarrassment but rallied. The audience was behind her. I spotted her mother, in clogs, looking nervous. The choir sang a few more songs in scratchy unison. My eldest scooted off to the skatepark, bored. An official looking gent wearing some kind of medal – a mayor? – was chatting enthusiastically to a couple of Labour councillors. As I accompanied my youngest to the toilet, the choir struck up a Bob Marley classic, giving voice to the belief that every little thing’s gonna be alright. Still, remarkably, not a cliche. Tears welled in my eyes as I mouthed the words. If this was community spirit, it was indeed alright.
Ariadne Birnberg 