Why is everyone looking at me?
So I walked to the local station today, to take a train to London. It’s a walk I did countless times over countless years before moving to Dubai and, honestly, it brought back so many memories.
But, as I clopped along the pavement in my cowboy boots, I noticed all the other commuters and pedestrians were giving me a double-take.
I couldn’t think why. Maybe I was at school with them (always a risk when you’re in the town in which you grew up). But no, not that.
Maybe it was my hair. I dyed it “medium brown” yesterday and it actually turned out black – it looks odd to those who know me as a beach blonde, but, really, strangers wouldn’t notice that, I mused, as I marched towards the 9.31 train.
What could it be?
I didn’t think I looked odd at all. I was wearing a very classic outfit: Jeans, a blue and white sweater, a turquoise pashmina, a beige raincoat, cowboy boots, big sunglasses… yeah, my hand bag was particularly nice and I have a bit of a Mediterranean tan – but was that enough for the double-takes? Surely not.
And then, as the fifth person I passed gave me a strange look, I realised what it was.
As I was bundled up for winter, everyone else was wearing shorts, vests and flip-flops. It was 17 degrees. God bless England.