Snapshots from life

Smiles, sea, suntans - these holiday pictures could have come from anyone's album. Yet each marks a turning point in somebody's destiny. Ursula Kenny reports

WOBURN ABBEY SAFARI PARK, JUNE 1972

Mark Setchfield (right)

29, art director

This is the only photograph I have of my mother, Glennis. We were on holiday at Woburn Abbey Safari Park. I was two and I must have been asleep or something - the kids in the picture are my half sister Sarah and my adoptive uncle Terry. Four years later my mother died of a heroin overdose; my father had already died and so I went in to care.

I don't have many memories of my mother: she was out most of the time at blues parties with men. She wasn't very motherly; Sarah practically lived at my grandparents while I and my younger sister Kerry more or less brought ourselves up. I remember eating Weetabix with hot water. Ali, a guy around the corner, used to bring us curry. My grandma says we went for weeks wearing the same clothes.

I treasure this photograph because for many years I had no image of my mother - I just couldn't remember what she looked like. Then when I was 22 I managed to trace my maternal grandmother and she found this in an old shoe box. It's the only picture of her that exists and I think that's sad in itself - the sum of someone's life; one snap. As soon as I saw it I knew it was my mum; I always assumed she looked like this, a lot like my sister.

She was 26 when she died. Kerry and I were staying at my aunt's, playing in the garden, and there was lots of coming and going and hushy stuff. Then grandma sat us down and said "We've just buried your mum, she was very ill". Years later my older sister told me she died of a drug overdose. Until I was given this I had no pictorial history before 1976; my foster family would take out the family albums and it was if my life started at the age of six. I felt like an alien. I didn't know where I came from. I had no one to compare myself to.

I think my grandma was quite relieved to pass the picture on to me. It was as though she'd kind of finished with it all; got her daughter off her chest.

ANTIGUA, DECEMBER 1998

Sue Collins (above)

29, nanny:

This is me after I lost nearly five stone. The holiday was bliss for me because for the first time I didn't try to hide my body when I sunbathed. I didn't worry about the wind blowing against my sarong and accentuating my belly or whether I'd fit in to my seat on the plane - I actually cried when I did my seat belt up. I ate all the food on the flight, not just the salad, and I finally felt confident about myself.

Women get crucified for being fat and I'd always struggled with my weight. I remember looking at a snap of myself and being horrified. I hadn't realised how bad I looked. I was uncomfortable all the time and I was so slow as well; I think I've gained an hour in my day because I can move so much faster than I used to be able to.

The turning point was the day my boyfriend, Matt, proposed to me. I realised I didn't want to get married as a fat person. Matt didn't worry about my weight, but I needed to do it for myself.

The best thing is that I can choose what I wear; I love shopping now. I'm always buying sexy bikinis. In fact, I collect them.

DUBLIN, AUGUST 1991

Wendy Gilliatt (right) 42, office manager

This is me on the first holiday I'd ever been on alone. I'd just split up from someone I'd been with for nine years. I'd thought we'd be together forever.

I look back now and see that trip to Dublin as a major part of my recovery. A turning point. At the time I just had to escape. The break-up took up every inch of my being and I needed that to stop. I deliberately went on my own and I planned it like a military campaign. I worked out where I would go and what I would do every day. I decided that money was no object: I stayed in a very expensive hotel, ate at expensive restaurants.

I was shocked by how much I enjoyed it. The freedom felt great. I didn't have to worry about what anyone else wanted to do. I felt like I deserved a f---ing good time and I had one. I enjoyed my own company and I felt very empowered by that. I certainly didn't amend my behaviour because I was on my own. I had nightcaps in bars, went for days out at the races, had passing chats with people and drank Guinness at 11am in order to get through all the bars friends had recommended. I felt gorgeous when I got back, having felt like shit for months.

The holiday literally gave me back my confidence: it showed me that it was still possible to feel the way I did before I met my ex. I'd had nine years of his friends and taking a back seat to his career and I realised I never want to lose myself like that again. It was a trip of rediscovery and I really couldn't have done it with anyone else around.

LINDOS, JUNE 1985

Helena Lang (above)

36, editor

I met Simon on holiday 14 years ago which was when this picture was taken. We were both in other relationships at the time, but my boyfriend was away in New York and I decided to go to Rhodes with a girlfriend for a break.

Day three, I was lying topless on the beach talking to a guy and Simon came over. We were introduced but I didn't really take in very much about him. In the evening Jenny and I went to a bar and Simon and his friend Danny came in. I remember saying to Jenny "Oh no, there's that guy from the beach and he's going to come and sit down". Which he did and we ended up having a really good time; he fell asleep on my shoulder in a nightclub at the end of the evening and it brought out all my maternal instincts.

For the rest of the holiday we were inseparable and I absolutely knew I'd met the love of my life. I just knew. We both said "I love you" on day five.

At the end of the holiday it was awful. A big group of us got together in a bar and swapped telephone numbers and he didn't ask for mine. I was completely devastated. I thought, "Oh God it was just a holiday romance for him. I've been stupid and I've been conned." I rushed out and he ran after me and started abusing me for not asking for his phone number.

I flew home in the morning; his flight was in the afternoon and we met up the same evening. I told my boyfriend it was all over and he left his girlfriend and moved in with me two weeks later. If we hadn't met on that holiday I don't think our paths would have ever crossed in London - I was a real Eighties career girl who hung out in Soho bars and wore designer labels. He was the eternal student who had one pair of revolting jeans to his name and went to see live bands in pubs.

For us meeting on holiday worked - it was a great leveller, we didn't care what we did for a living, what we were wearing. We had no lifestyle baggage so to speak. We're still together. We've been married for 12 years and we have a three-year old daughter called Jessica.