It's that time of year again: the hotels are full, parking spaces are at a premium, thousands of discarded strings of beads lie in gutters or hang from trees and railings, and the inhabitants have another chance to indulge their passion for cross-dressing.

Mardi Gras kicked off last night with the Krewe de Vieux parade. Pam marched with her sub-krewe, Krewe de Craps, and I volunteered to be an escort. In return for keeping the crowds back as our float made its stop-start progress through the French quarter, and staying sober, I got a free ticket to the krewe ball afterwards, including unlimited beer.

Most of the big parades are of motorised floats, but Krewe de Vieux still uses mules or human beings for locomotion. The mule in the top picture is not too happy about the prospect of hauling a ton of beads, beer and brass-band instruments through three miles of cheering crowds.

This year, Krewe de Craps' theme was sharks - not so much the aquatic version as the Wall Street derivatives traders and hedge fund managers who got us into this sorry mess.

And this is their float. I had to ask what SOL stands for: it's Shit Out of Luck.



One advantage of Mardi Gras for all of us lazy New Orleanians is that you don't have to take down your Christmas (sorry, holiday) decorations on Twelfth Night.

Our house is still festooned with lights, but the British and American flags have been replaced by carnival jesters, and the tree is decorated not with tinsel and baubles but with purple, green and gold necklaces - these being the traditional (and in my opinion hideously mismatched) colours of Mardi Gras.