Carnival 2007, that is. And not a moment too soon.

More pictures here.

This year the word has barely even been mentioned in these pages. There’s no Minshall this year, of course, and I believe I’m persona non grata in at least one pan yard. And I don’t think my being out of the country for most of last week helped, nor does the fact that I’ve now come down with what a nasty cold which made me miss the only fete — C*POP’s infamous “Beach House” extravaganza at Ortinola estate — I’d have attended for the season. I did attend the uber-slick 3canal Show at Queen’s Hall on Monday, but Queen’s Hall operatives stopped me from taking photos, so I have nothing to show for it. I guess the pale attempt at a photo essay I made the other day at their offices will have to suffice.

And now it’s Carnival Friday, the day the Carnival bug — if it hasn’t already — is supposed to bite hard and make you run out and sign up for a costume in the nearest band and start calling around in desperation for Brian Lara fete tickets (the “you”, in this case, referring of course to other people; I myself have better things to do with my hard-earned cash).

I’m about to head out into the fray shortly to run a few errands, so if I don’t return it’s either that the bug has bitten or the traffic is worse that usual. But at the rate I’m going, it looks like I might even skip j’ouvert.

Speaking of Carnival, I’ve been meaning to recommend my Global Voices colleague José Murilo’s lovely piece on Recife, Brazil, where the build-up to carnival has included a celebration of the 100th anniversary of frevo, the traditional sound of the state of Pernambuco, and other lovely things.

Me, all I’m concerned with at the moment is the build-up in my nostrils. Sniff.