In 1989 I found myself once again bored with life in the UK and decided it would be ‘a bit of a laugh’ to apply to become a Travel Rep.  After a day-long interview extravaganza (lots of whooping and hollering and being generally super enthusiastic) I was offered a post in Mallorca (which when I received my letter I thought was some fancy, exclusive island

So I had stayed in Corfu too long and was unable to book a flight home. Eventually I found that it was possible to get off the island and head to Italy via the ferry (for some reason border control there was different).  Luckily, some bloke called John had got his hands on a knackered old Ford Granada and was planning to drive back to

Come the summer of 1988, I’d had enough of London and daily commuting and was desperately in need of some excitement – so I decided to pack in my job and head off to Greece for the summer.  For years I had been supplementing my fairly meagre salary by working in the local pub, so I wasn’t phased by the prospect of bar work. Off