231 
Grey sky, dark clothes, pale faces. It was all I’d seen for over nine months. But the sun was finally out, after so many months of biting-cold weather. It was summer and I finally had cause to wear colourful clothes. It’s a Brit thing, I’d come to understand—to wear dull and dark colours, unless it’s summer.
I shoved the pile of grey and black dresses to the right, and pulled out my green dress with floral prints. I put it on and pulled out a pair of unused sandals to go with it (my boots probably felt abandoned). My usually unruly hair somehow seemed wavy and bouncy that day. So, I decided to leave my hair loose. Big mistake.
It was as if the sun was out with a vengeance! As soon as I stepped out the door, the sweat beads around my scalp turned into mini streams. I tied my hair in a bun, as I stood waiting for the bus at the Kingston University stop. At first, I wasn’t sure if it was the sun or an issue with my eyes: suddenly, there was a swarm of pink all around me. The British summer had come alive with pastel pink in everyone’s clothing, except for a few whites and cool blues.
As I stepped into the 65, I was very aware all eyes were on me. It didn’t help with the sweating. Dania had said she’d be waiting for me by the entrance to the Kew Gardens. Great. I’d have to endure feeling like an only grasshopper in a bus full of butterflies, all on my own. Looking unique in brown skin, thick black hair and green floral dress came with unwanted attention. An uncomfortable one hour later, I got off at the Kew Gardens stop. I’d never felt more relieved than when I found Dania waving at me by the entrance.
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