My own Windrush story begins with my dad, who came to this country aged just four-years-old.
He made the journey along with thousands of others, leaving his home in a small rural town in Jamaica, for England, following his father.
On the boat over, he told me how he held on to his mum’s hand and went wherever she went, before being terrified by the sight of the White Cliffs of Dover, his first taste of the country he would come to call home.
