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In a small kitchen hidden away in west London, Parbatee Sawh, who goes by the name Sarah, is frying dough to make doubles, a popular Trinidadian snack of flatbread filled with curried chickpeas.

It’s the kind of dish she’s previously made for the Notting Hill Carnival and indeed claims to be one of the first to introduce Indo-Caribbean cuisine to the event.

“I started selling rotis, aloo pie, dhal puri… just out of my car,” she says with a smile. “Then in the 90s I started distributing my Indo-Caribbean cuisine to the yearly event.”

Originally from Trinidad, Sarah moved to Lewisham in 1972 to work as a nurse. Since then, she has become a regular at Carnival, serving up meals that reflect her heritage.

“I had noticed there was a real lack of Trinidadian food, even though the carnival has its roots in Trinidad,” she explains.

“The Indian influence in some of the dishes reflects the island’s diverse cultural heritage.”

These days, Sarah’s daughters Christina and Leah Bedeau do most of the cooking for their stall Sweet Hand Cuisine, though the 72-year-old still gets involved.

“Caribbean cuisine is incredibly diverse,” says Christina, whose father is from Grenada.

Growing up in west London, the 38-year-old says she often found her mixed Black-Indian identity hard for others to place – especially compared to visits back to Trinidad.

“In London during the 90s, there wasn’t really a space for Indo-Caribbeans. People didn’t know how to box me, and I’d get frowned upon by different ethnic groups, whereas in Trinidad the diversity is the norm,” says Christina.

She also feels that while the food is loved, the deeper history is often overlooked.

“People don’t always talk about how Indians came to the Caribbean in the first place. There isn’t much awareness of indentureship. The dishes get celebrated, but the story behind them does not,” she says.

It’s a perspective shared by Sophia Estelle Mangroo, who is another regular at Notting Hill Carnival.

“As a second-generation British Indo-Trinidadian whose grandparents came to the UK during the Windrush era, a moment often portrayed as Afro-Caribbean, I think it’s vital to acknowledge that Indo-Caribbeans were part of that journey too.”

Hailing from Tooting, she enjoys raising awareness of the Indo-Caribbean culture in London through her social media.

“I attend Carnival because it connects me to my heritage through music, dance and celebration,” she adds.

An Indo-Caribbean music genre called chutney is also often played at Notting Hill Carnival, which according to Sophia, some people do not realise is an Indo- Caribbean rhythm.

The British Journal of Ethnomusicology describes chutney as a vibrant fusion that blends Indian folk music with Caribbean calypso and soca.

But behind these lively rhythms and delicious dishes lies a deeper, often untold history of indentureship.

The Caribbean has always been a melting pot of culture and history. Among the African, Chinese and European waves of migration came the Indian populations.

Their journeys were long and often dangerous, with months spent in overcrowded ships under harsh conditions.

Many eventually settled in the Caribbean, in countries like Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana and Suriname, and formed tight-knit communities that preserved elements of Indian culture while they adapted to their new homes.

Christina recalls a moment when she met someone from Mauritius at a community event in London.

“We both sat down with dhal puri and just laughed. Same dish, similar taste, but our parents had grown up on different sides of the world,” she says.

According to writer and indentureship expert Gina Agnew, who is of Indo-Guyanese descent, this shared culinary heritage is no coincidence.

“Dhal puri, a flatbread made with seasoned ground chickpeas, was born out of necessity,” she explains.

“It was created by indentured workers during the voyage itself. So you’ll find versions of this dish not just in the Caribbean, but in places like Mauritius, Fiji, and South Africa – wherever Indians were taken under indentureship.”

The Indo-Caribbean story did not end in the Caribbean.

From the 1950s onwards, many Indo-Caribbean families, particularly from Trinidad and Guyana, migrated to the UK as part of the wider post-Windrush movement.

Encouraged to settle in Britain to help rebuild the country following World War Two, they arrived with hopes for better opportunities.

London quickly became a hub, with communities forming in areas including Ladbroke Grove, Southall, Harlesden and Brixton, bringing their food, music and culture with them.

It is in these neighbourhoods where the seeds of Notting Hill Carnival were also planted, and where the sounds and smells of Indo-Caribbean culture, such as sizzling doubles, still fill the streets today.

As of 2021, there are an estimated 2.5 million people of Indo-Caribbean descent worldwide, Gina says.

In countries like Guyana and Trinidad, they represent up to 40% of the population and are the largest ethnic group in some areas.

Indian influence is deeply woven into the cultural fabric: from chutney music to dishes like dhal puri and chicken curry – or curry chicken, depending on who you ask – to festivals like Phagwah (Holi) and Indian Arrival Day.

Gina, who was involved in the National Archives project on indentured workers in 2023, notes that many descendants still struggle to trace their roots.

“A lot of families simply don’t know where in India their ancestors came from, but that’s slowly changing,” she says.

For Sarah, her daughters and Sophia, Notting Hill Carnival is not just about the food, music, or costumes – it is about honouring a legacy that spans continents, generations, and the resilience of people who made the Caribbean – and later London – their home.

A rat infestation at an apartment block in north-east London has left people “terrified, stressed” and “unable to sleep”.

One resident filmed more than a dozen rats in the bin store at the Crystal Court flats in Hackney.

Notting Hill Genesis, which manages the building, said it was tackling the ongoing pest issues, and apologised for the impact on residents.

People living in the building said the rats had been there for around a year, and that they had complained to the management company several times.

“I saw 10 to 15 rats scurrying up the walls, running into a hole in the bin store ceiling,” said Marlon, who did not want to give his surname.

“I was shocked. I threw my rubbish into the bin and got out.”

One woman, who did not want to be identified, said the experience was terrifying and caused her stress over several months.

She said the sound of the rats through the walls kept her awake at night.

Fellow resident Mafalda Pedro said: “You can hear them scratching away. We’ve complained quite a few times already.”

She added: “It’s not a good environment, especially because we have a child. We’re scared to go downstairs to be honest.”

“I have a young daughter and I feel scared. At night from inside our flat you can hear the rats scratching,” said Diana, another resident.

Notting Hill Genesis said: “Household waste left in communal areas has now been cleared and we have carried out extensive pest control and prevention work.

“Work to clean and remove waste from the bin store has been completed and cleaning will continue to keep the space sanitary.”

The company added: “We continue to work with residents and have advised them to take additional care when disposing of waste to prevent these issues from reoccurring.”

In a quiet Lincolnshire village lies a quaint Victorian chapel. Worshipers have long departed, but musical notes still resonate off these brick walls courtesy of some of Britain’s best-known artists.

Hymns have been replaced by rock and the congregation includes the likes of Arctic Monkeys, Kaiser Chiefs, Wet Wet Wet and The Darkness.

“When Kaiser Chiefs were here, what you could hear coming out of the studio, you knew that was a hit,” says Andy Dransfield, owner of Chapel Studios in South Thoresby.

It is a residential studio, meaning artists can stay there and work for weeks at a time.

And, as Andy explains, one of the most appealing things is its rural location, which means that famous artists can get away from the public spotlight.

“If you are Wet Wet Wet, you can come up here… it’s only when the postman spotted flight cases out on the road being dropped off with ‘Wet Wet Wet’ stuck all over them that it got leaked out,” he says.

“They could go to the local pub and half of the people in the pub wouldn’t know who they are… [they can] go and have a conversation with guys who are driving a tractor all day. They love that!”

What started out as a dream for Andy, recording music with his friends in a garden shed more than 50 years ago, has been a labour of love since.

“We managed to end up with a recorder that had four tracks on it that let you record and sing,” he remembers.

The shed was so small, that one of the friends would sit outside with headphones to record the group playing inside.

“We started to promote our demos that we’d done ourselves and then other local bands said ‘would you record us?’ So we did that initially, and then we thought, ‘hang on a minute, we can charge them a bit of money here’,” David adds.

“Slight drawback was that we were next to an old people’s home. They used to go to bed at nine o’clock just as we were getting going.

“We couldn’t afford soundproof air conditioning, so you can imagine, you get six, seven young guys in there and a lot of people smoked in those days.”

That all changed when Andy’s friend, Bram Tchaikovsky, who was also a musician, bought the chapel with his wife. He suggested that they renovate it and turn it into a recording studio.

“It was exactly as a chapel and that would be very early 1980, maybe even late 79.

“We were really naïve. We got six cubic meters of concrete delivered at the front door. The guy pulls up in his lorry and says ‘where’s this for?’ and we said ‘oh, here please!’ He drops it all and then he says ‘you know this goes off in like an hour and a half don’t you?’

“We had two wheelbarrows, we were just frantic. We were not builders so moving barrows of cement one after the other is pretty tiring.”

Once the studio was built and ready in 1982, big names soon followed.

One of the first that Andy remembers was Simple Minds.

“[They] were actually my favourite band at the time. And that was fantastic. I mean, just having Simple Minds, they were just at the point where Mel Gaynor was joining them.”

The Darkness are also among the big names to have recorded at the chapel, with a chunk of their debut album Permission To Land, which was released in 2003, produced here.

“Justin [Hawkins], obviously, is renowned for his escapades, shall we say,” Andy smiles.

“We had TV crews here for that. So, the first question was ‘so is it true that Justin sang some of the songs naked?’

“We wouldn’t commit for years whether he did or not. I think our phrase was, ‘we turned away at that point, we weren’t looking too closely’.

“But the answer to that is yes, I believe he did.”

Andy was able to buy his friend out in 1986, owning the studio and cottage outright, but he is now ready to sell it, as “it needs young blood”.

“I’m really proud of what we’ve done,” he says.

“You’re just a custodian of a property really, aren’t you? I’m happy for somebody else to put their mark on it.”

It is on the market for £1.25m.