My Fair Lady

Where I come from, block parties are raucuous affairs. Kids are running everywhere, there's often some sort of Slip n' Slide scenario, and adults stand around with bottles of beer and cook burgers and hot dogs until it's either too dark or they're too drunk to be handling open flames.

In posh Notting Hill, home of Stella McCartney, Bjork, Robbie Williams and countless other celebs and young hot politicians, things are a bit more civilized.

Based on my experience at the Nothumberland Street Fair, I provide a brief education: First of all, for all of you heathens out there, unless we are Jennifer Lopez we refer to such events not as "block parties," but as "street fairs."

Secondly, cooking over open flames is for cavemen and vagrants; we either have the food brought in by a local caterer or we cook our many gourmet courses in our well-stocked kitchens. Note: The correct wine pairing is essential.

Third, tablecloths should be recently laundered and floral centerpieces brought in that day to preserve freshness.

Fourth, when night falls, we should be well-stocked with candles; the jazz quartet will play appropriate evening music.

Fifth, and finally, all children shall be dressed in dresses and suits befitting England's upwardly mobile youth. Oh, and the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain.

We were invited to this grand event by Alex's boss Jayne, who occupies a beautiful home next door to none other than Maid Marion (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio). Mary Elizabeth was out of town, but that didn't prevent me from obnoxiously snapping a picture of her house (you can take the girl out of the block party, but you can't take the block party out of the girl).

Following great food, company and conversation, we bid our farewells around midnight. As we were leaving, we noticed the only remaining fair attendee, awash in the street light.

When Alex asked him if he'd mind being the subject of our late night photography, he responded in a posh accent: "Certainly. As long as it will be kept in a nice journal." Classy Old Northumberland Place Man: Your wish is (sort of) granted.