It’s six thirty in the morning and black as night outside. I’m on the 403 bus out of Croydon when I catch a glance of my reflection in the closing shutter doors. Suddenly I realise how plainly my purple jumper clashes with my jungle camo pants as I sit on my bright red suitcase. I am the epitomy of fashion crime. Still, it’s function over form today and besides, it helps distract attention from my accomplices bright pink and red love-heart wellington boots.

Soon we’ll be jumping the bus to catch the train to the coach terminal for eight hours of bus travel North out of the city to get some fresh air and see the lush English countryside. we’re headed for Sleights, out of Whitby, and it’s a long day ahead.

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