I enjoyed my visit to Saturday's festivities - the music, the cheerfulness, the excellent salt beef bagel - but another part of the pleasure came from feeling just a little on the edge of things, by which I sort of mean being old enough to be the dad of most of the revellers.
I bumped into half a dozen fellow old-timers - people who, like me, have lived in Clapton for a very long time, had children here, had them educated here, seen them grow up and fly the nest. To a man and woman they shared their amazement at how trendy it's got round here lately, how we'd been hearing for years that this was going to happen and how, now it finally has, we're somehow not completely comfortable with it.
We've got no business carping, of course. The presence of, you know, people like us is what gave early momentum to the latte-this-organic-that-and-vintage-the-other culture that has suddenly become so conspicuous in E5. We are the people who sought out Sunday breakfast at Venetia's, posh cheese at L'Epicerie and books at Pages of Hackney. We're the ones who can't get enough of that freshly-baked bread at Palm 2.
Hell, we practically started this whole gentrification thing. It has its downsides as well its ups, and we should be aware of them. But mostly, let's work on being glad.