Not a major one, but just enough to deliver a "remember me?" message.
The festival has become a phenomenon and that is best illustrated by the number of visitors it draws into the city and region.
And it is a happy, chirpy and colourful phenomenon — unlike what used to be a happy, chirpy and colourful phenomenon over there in Rio.
I was reading how this year's carnival was marred by crime — lots of it.
People who had travelled there to be part of this annual street party event were caught up in it, and the Brazilian authorities ended up calling in the army because their policing structure just could not cope.
It didn't help that street crime is rampant in that part of the planet anyway.
So, as Fred Dagg said, "we don't know how lucky we are mate".
Lucky indeed, but it takes a lot more than luck to organise a shindig like this.
Mind you, luck is always a factor in the realm of the weather, and the weather is always a factor in the realm of putting on a shindig with a big outdoor component.
A week or so out from the festival I mentioned the weather "factor" to events manager Glen Pickering and he just smiled and said they had that organised as well.
Wouldn't be a problem — whatever the MetService boffins reckoned.
Like everything else this remarkable chap and his crew touched in terms of getting the event delivered, they got that very important component spot on.
Which, in terms of allowing my favourites to turn out (the aircraft) was excellent news.
The sound of a Harvard is just terrific.
The sound of five of them in the shallow dive of acceleration before a loop is sublime.
Every time an aircraft went over I'd go outside.
Last week I noted the "back and forth" fitness regime brought about by trying to dry tea towels during intermittent rain and sunshine.
This fitness programme (for me) also includes aircraft.
"Harvards," I would murmur as the most distant of drones emerged.
"Dakota," I would murmur as the DC3 approached.
And out I'd go.
Mind you, I got caught out on one occasion.
"Here they come again," I said to myself as I rose and made my way outside... to discover the bloke a few doors down had just kicked his Briggs and Stratton lawnmower into life.
"A mistake anyone could make," I whispered to myself shamefully.
It was interesting though, because as I watched the growling Harvards cross the southern skyline a bunch of kids down the road hardly gave them a glance.
They didn't seem interested and I daresay most youngsters probably wouldn't dash outside upon hearing a historic droning aircraft coming over.
"Harvards!" I would cry.
"Really?" they would likely answer.
"Now listen," I would strictly reply.
"If it weren't for the likes of these chaps we'd have lost the air wars and we'd all be driving German and Japanese cars today...no, hang on, I'll re-phrase that."
Apart from the aircraft one notable sight was that of a couple of Art Deco attired folk (of mature years) helping even more mature folk into van parked outside a rest home.
They were clearly volunteers set to give some otherwise home-bound residents a closer look at the Art Deco capital of the world.
Well done.
Without the volunteer brigade these events, and so many other things, just would not happen.
'Vollie' chaps and ladies... jolly what ho, one and all.