As told to Elisabeth Easther
When I was a kid, we never went overseas but we had brilliant holidays in Leigh with my grandparents. We'd swim at the beach and play with the cousins. We'd go to Matheson's Bay and get pipis, or put on performances for the parents and nanas. We mainly spent a lot of time outside, doing the things kids did before devices.
When I was in the sixth form I went to Australia on a Rotary exchange. I lived on a dairy farm for four months and that really gave me a taste for travel, so when I was about 23, I went to the UK by myself. A guy I knew was picking me up from the airport, but when I got to Heathrow, it turned out he'd forgotten, but I had his address so I took a taxi to where he was living — only his flatmates told me he'd moved out three days before. They gave me another address for a house in East Finchley. That place had 16 people living in a four bedroom flat. I'm not a precious person but that was not what I anticipated, or wanted.
With four people to a bedroom, each person had the bed every fourth week which was revolting. I stayed two nights before ringing a girlfriend who'd married an English guy. I told her things had turned to custard so I stayed with her for a few days to sort myself out. My plan did not involve living with Aussies and Kiwis or doing Contiki tours. I wanted to live with English people and do English things and that's what I did.
When Mum came over, we went to Turkey and stayed in Marmaris. It was beautiful, so hot, and every day at about 4 o'clock there'd be a huge thunderstorm. It would rain like crazy then, within half an hour, it was beautiful again. We visited rug factories and villages, and the food was outstanding, but there'd be these English people who'd moan about the food. They didn't want to eat olives and eggs for breakfast, they wanted baked beans and sausages and I was like, wow that's so narrow-minded. Why leave your country if you're not prepared to immerse yourself in a new culture?