Last evening one of my favourite things about living in this neighbourhood happened. I’d only experienced it once before (in December), but it being youth day yesterday, it was bound to happen again. You can hear it coming, for a while before it gets to you. It’s a local youth marching band, about fifty marching young musicians with drums, trumpets, trombones, a pair of tubas, and a few dancers in the lead, then kids with huge flags waving and finally friends and family tailing behind. Their march takes them on a zigzag through our narrow streets. Everybody comes out onto their stoeps or balconies or pavements to listen and cheer them on. It’s a huge, festive parade and it brings huge soppy wet tears to my eyes. It’s fantastic to see young people involved, proud, committed and having fun. It’s wonderful to see them supported by family, friends and the community. And most fantastic is how the true spirit of performance appears and lets loose on the street. I love it. Gally normally gets stuck in too and joins in with a howl, but last night was a little too dark and rowdy for her. Bayla (the naff) stayed inside.