The great escape

I have picked out a photograph from 1973. I was 24 years old. There is a story behind it. I was living in Birmingham at the time. and had a friend called Janet. We both liked Majorca having been on holiday together there before. We decided we would like to go and live there. We booked a cheap five day package trip, which was the cheapest way to get there, and we didn't come back. 

Our intention was to find an apartment and get a job. There was an English newspaper which we searched every day for jobs and accommodation. It was March time and we couldn't find work as it was too early in the season. We would have taken any job, in hotels, cleaning rooms, kitchen work, but no, sorry, nothing today.

 After five days at the hotel, we had to check out. But hey, all was not lost. I had managed to snare a handsome young man who had an apartment, so we didn't have to sleep on the beach. We were invited to stay with Chemari. I don't know if that is the correct spelling but that is how you say it. He was French, and had a job working on the beach renting out pedaloes. 

Our job searching continued. After a month, still nothing. Our money was running out. Not to worry, Chemari bought the food and we had a roof over our heads. Another month and Janet was getting very worried. She rang her parents, and they paid for a return flight back to the UK. I couldn't do the same because my mum had no money to spare. I was on my own. 

For something to do I used to go to the beach and sit with Chemari while he did his job. Hence the photo. I remember one day I got chatting to an English man who came to hire a pedalo. It was such a relief to be able to speak to someone in my native language, without gesticulating every word. 

Chemari became very agitated about this and was very angry that I should be speaking to a male on his own. That was the first time I saw jealousy on his face. I had to be careful after that. I didn't want to get thrown out of his apartment. 

Another month went by and I knew I had to leave and go back to the UK. But how to do that when I had very little money left. Chemari didn't know that I was plotting how to get away from him. He wanted to own me and I didn't like that. He wanted me to stay there forever. 

I checked the English newspaper every day. In the personal column I saw that someone was selling a return ticket to fly back to the UK. This woman had already got a job lined up to go to, so she didn't need the ticket. I contacted the seller and agreed to buy it. I just had enough money.

I hid the ticket because I didn't want Chemari to see it, he might destroy it and I would be trapped. I only told him a couple of hours before I left the apartment. I explained that it was just a visit back home and I would return to Majorca. He accepted that. A car arrived from the seller to take me to the airport late at night. I think today this would not happen. You can't take a flight using someone else's ticket. Passport control and ticket checks then were two separate barriers to pass through. No one noticed. It could have also been a scam, but in 1974 everyone was more trusting and honest. 

I learnt a lot of lessons from this episode in my life. I have a very strong independent streak running through me, and no one can override that. I have since survived two more controlling situations, and removed myself from two unhappy relationships. The decisions I made were right for me. 

Please make sure that the decisions you make now are right for you.

Thanks for popping in. Toodle pip.   ilona