They say that in our youth, we make decisions we would never have the courage to make later in life. When I look back today at everything I experienced in the United Kingdom—from the grind in freezing factories to the wounds life dealt me here—I know one thing for sure: if I had known then what I know today, I would never have boarded that plane. But back then, I wasn’t chasing dreams; I was chasing survival and an escape.
Graduation, Heartbreak, and the Arrival of the Euro
It all came to a head in 2009. For me, it was a year of massive changes. I was going through an incredibly difficult time—my first serious relationship, which had lasted since I was 16, came to an end. My boyfriend broke up with me shortly before my final exams, which was a huge blow to my mental state. Despite a broken heart, I fought through it and successfully graduated that same year.
2009 was also memorable because Slovakia was saying goodbye to the Koruna. My very first day working behind a bar was Friday, January 16, 2009, at Luna Bar. I was 20 years old and had immense respect for the job; my friends had been trying to persuade me to do it for a long time. It was during this period that the historic currency change took place, and I experienced the tension of taking Slovak Korunas until midnight and handing out Euros immediately after. That bar became my second home for a while—I spent more time there than in my own apartment.
Family Storms and the Decision to Leave
My family background was complicated at the time. My parents had divorced long before, and we had moved into a new apartment that belonged solely to my mother. Later, however, my parents got back together, and my father lived with us in my mother’s apartment for a while. After many disagreements and his failure to follow my mother’s rules—where alcohol also played a role—my father had to leave. It wasn’t pretty; in the end, I had to literally kick him out of the apartment and call the police for help. It was an agreement between him and my mother that he had broken, and I was stuck in the middle of it all. For a short time before leaving for the United Kingdom, I lived in that apartment alone, but I mostly sought refuge in my work.
In March 2010, my mother, who was unemployed at the time, decided to take a radical step. At 45 years old, she left for England. Without the language, without anything. She took the risk and managed to settle in. When the bar manager told me in July of that same year that the bar was going to be renovated and I would be out of a job, I didn’t hesitate. After everything that had happened, nothing was holding me back in Slovakia, and there were no jobs nearby. Two weeks before my flight, I actually injured my wrist falling while dancing and had to be taken by ambulance, but I was already booking my flights in a bar on someone else’s laptop. I didn’t even own a computer; I just had the determination to start elsewhere.
The First Flight and the “Furrier” at Passport Control
August 7, 2010. My very first flight. I was shaking with nerves; back then, all we needed to travel to the United Kingdom was an ID card and a plane ticket. I remember at passport control, a gentleman of darker complexion asked me with a smile if I was a “kožkárka” (a nickname for people from our specific village). I laughed, and that moment helped break the stress. I enjoyed every minute of the flight by the window, watching the clouds.
In Liverpool, a friend of my mother’s was waiting for me with a name sign. He was a driver for the agency where I was supposed to start working. My financial reality was ruthless: I had a total of £350 with me. I had to pay the agency £330 immediately for work and accommodation. I was left with exactly £20 to survive. My mother and I agreed she would help me with food at the beginning. We lived together in one room in a large house in Liverpool on Tuebrook, Sutton 2. I will remember that address forever.
Frostbite, Wellies, and the “Peppermint” Doctor
The beginnings in the United Kingdom were incredibly harsh. Working in a “Chicken Factory” meant chickens, endless cold, and frostbite—not just on my hands, but on my feet too. My English was basically non-existent, limited to: “My name is Denisa. Yes. No.” Portuguese and Romanian coworkers taught me at the conveyor belt.
One crazy memory stands out from this time. I decided to get a tattoo on my leg—a tattooist friend came to our house, and just a few hours later, I had to go to work, straight into rubber wellington boots. It hurt so unbelievably much at work that I went to the on-site doctor at the factory. That “specialist” put a peppermint gel on my fresh wound. At first, I didn’t know what it was, until it started to sting like crazy. I cursed her for the rest of the shift. I spent the next two weeks limping, but I had to keep going to work in that cold and those boots.
I went through everything—from bedbugs in the house to living with a Polish family who monitored our every move and where three of us slept on one bed just to have a place to lay our heads.
Finding Stability
Getting a full-time job was difficult; my application seemed to get lost at least five times. There were weeks when the agency sent us to work for only two days, and there wasn’t even enough for rent. Eventually, with my mother’s help, I moved into a large house—a former nursing home owned by a Black gentleman. I had my own room next to my mother’s. The house was full not only of Slovaks and Czechs but many other nationalities as well. We had a lot of fun and karaoke there, which finally brought me some peace after everything.
It was during this period that I met my daughter’s father. But what followed after that—all the bad things that led to him not being in contact with our daughter today… that is a completely different, much sadder story.
Conclusion
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading through my memories and for walking this path of life with me, even if only virtually. My early days in England taught me humility and a strength I never knew I possessed.
I would love to hear from you in the comments—did you experience similarly harsh beginnings? Or would you have the courage to leave with just £20 in your pocket?
Yours, Dee
In the next blog post, I will show you the huge difference between the England of back then and today. Today, such a risk with £20 in your pocket and just an ID card would be impossible. We will look at how complicated visas are now and everything you must fulfill according to government rules to be able to work here legally.
Discover more from s Dee o nás
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