I was bored with life at home. Bored with my job as a junior clerk in a very well-known building society which basically meant filing; sorting the mail; lugging the heavy franking machine to the post office; making coffee for the boss; buying cakes when it was someone’s birthday. I could have done the job half asleep. And despite the fact that I was very good with numbers, because of my age I wasn’t allowed to be on the front desk dealing with customers.
Having to work Saturday mornings interfered with going to gigs on a Friday night, though there was one occasion where I actually slept in the railway station waiting room in Huddersfield after missing the last train home and having to go straight to work. Bored with the same old pubs each weekend. The same boring blokes.
I dreamed of white sand and aqua water, sunshine and olives, even though I had never eaten an olive. My best friend was also bored with her office job and with a little persuasion she agreed to come with me and explore Europe.
There was the sticky issue of getting a passport. I wasn’t quite eighteen so had to get my parent’s permission. Mum was dead against it, but catching dad back from the pub one evening it was easy to get him to sign the form. He had no idea what he was signing, but I am sure once mum found out he would never hear the end of it.
We didn’t have much money. Originally we had reckoned on saving up for a couple of years before embarking on our trip. In fact I had saved around eighty quid, but Cathy only had forty. But we reckoned that would get us to Greece, as long as we hitchhiked as much as possible, and camped.
My mother was very angry when I told her I had handed in my notice. She thought we were a pair of day-dreaming idiots. At the time it hadn’t crossed my mind that she might just have been worried.
A few weeks later, resignation letters handed in, backpacks chosen, a two-man tent purchased along with tent pegs, a wooden mallet* , camping stove and gas cylinders, pans and tin mugs and plates, assorted dried food and coffee and we were ready for the off.
Oostende here we come.
*(important)
TRAVEL WORDS 
Hmmmm. You’ve got me really curious with that asterisked mallet. 😳
I agree Jude, always carry a mallet when going camping. It does sound like a girls own adventure 😀
I’m thinking there’s going to be more about the mallet!
Love this! I hope you have the best experiences! A mallet is a good idea, even if it’s for security 😜
You could be on the right path there 😉
So you were what now Jude….19? 20?
Ah, the courage (and lack of foresight!) of youth! – Knowing you now, I can say: Good for you! — If my daughter (I don’t have one) came to me with these ideas today, I don’t think I’d react as magnanimously.
I’m sure you’re right that your mother was worried as much as anything, but I’m very glad for you that you were able to get away nevertheless. I’m sure the experiences (including the use of that mallet!) shaped you much more than the monotony of the days in the building society 🙂 Looking forward to reading more!
I think you were very brave to do that, but at the time a lot of young people were doing something similar. I remember picking up two hitch-hiking teenage girls with rucksacks who were heading for Dover. (It was in 1973) They told me they were heading for Morocco, and I often wondered how they got on there, if they even got there.
Looking forward to more of this. Best wishes, Pete. x
Looking forward to reading more about your adventure (and the mallet!) My partner and I have gone memories of hitching round Europe back in the day.
Your mention of never having eaten an olive made me wonder whether olives weren’t readily available in your part of Britain back then. Or of they were available, perhaps they cost a lot.