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A wet summer in a Welsh ice-cream parlour helped me accept my childhood A wet summer in a Welsh ice-cream parlour helped me accept my childhood
(32 minutes later)
It was the summer after my first year of university, and I was back in uniform for the first time since school. The blue baseball cap and polo shirt combination was not glamorous, and I hated wearing my hair up, but the ice-cream parlour in the Snowdonian village of my childhood was hiring, and I needed the work.It was the summer after my first year of university, and I was back in uniform for the first time since school. The blue baseball cap and polo shirt combination was not glamorous, and I hated wearing my hair up, but the ice-cream parlour in the Snowdonian village of my childhood was hiring, and I needed the work.
These sorts of summer jobs are on the decline among young people with technology at their disposal, but I didn’t have the option to become an influencer or an internet millionaire. Back home, everyone I knew worked a summer job, but my distinctly posher university friends were off on adventures: backpacking around South America, repairing to their families’ houses in the south of France, Interrailing. I had already wasted a substantial wodge of cash on a quixotic attempt at a law degree that had me begging fervently to transfer courses before the tedium of property law actually killed me. Back in the village I had worked so hard to leave, I was doubting whether I could afford university at all.These sorts of summer jobs are on the decline among young people with technology at their disposal, but I didn’t have the option to become an influencer or an internet millionaire. Back home, everyone I knew worked a summer job, but my distinctly posher university friends were off on adventures: backpacking around South America, repairing to their families’ houses in the south of France, Interrailing. I had already wasted a substantial wodge of cash on a quixotic attempt at a law degree that had me begging fervently to transfer courses before the tedium of property law actually killed me. Back in the village I had worked so hard to leave, I was doubting whether I could afford university at all.
What did I learn? That a boss who allows you to read in the quiet moments is invaluableWhat did I learn? That a boss who allows you to read in the quiet moments is invaluable
The ice-cream parlour was a fairly new addition to the high street, but in a village with a thriving summer tourist economy it seemed like a good bet. Other friends were stacking shelves at Tesco or doing gruelling kitchen shifts, while the parlour was a friendly family business adored by my ice-cream-loving autistic brother, who would pop in with my mum before his walk around the lake. They treated their staff with kindness and we responded with enthusiasm and respect. Furthermore, they were happy for us to try out the ice-cream, which was homemade. I can still recall the creamy mascarpone-infused strawberry cheesecake; the richness of the dark, milkless chocolate. Access to the counter’s rainbow array of flavours would have been the fulfilment of any child’s dream.The ice-cream parlour was a fairly new addition to the high street, but in a village with a thriving summer tourist economy it seemed like a good bet. Other friends were stacking shelves at Tesco or doing gruelling kitchen shifts, while the parlour was a friendly family business adored by my ice-cream-loving autistic brother, who would pop in with my mum before his walk around the lake. They treated their staff with kindness and we responded with enthusiasm and respect. Furthermore, they were happy for us to try out the ice-cream, which was homemade. I can still recall the creamy mascarpone-infused strawberry cheesecake; the richness of the dark, milkless chocolate. Access to the counter’s rainbow array of flavours would have been the fulfilment of any child’s dream.
What the family hadn’t banked on was the summer being one of the wettest any of us could remember. Sheets of torrential rain swept the high street, and even the most foolhardy of amateur climbers took one look at Snowdon and packed off home. (We have a local saying along the lines of: if you can’t see Snowdon, it’s raining. If you can, it’s still raining.) Occasionally a family of tourists in kagoules would drift in reeling from the deluge, but for long periods of time the shop was empty. This must have been extremely worrying for the owners, whose business was fairly new, but what it meant for me was silence and solitude. Hours of it, sometimes.What the family hadn’t banked on was the summer being one of the wettest any of us could remember. Sheets of torrential rain swept the high street, and even the most foolhardy of amateur climbers took one look at Snowdon and packed off home. (We have a local saying along the lines of: if you can’t see Snowdon, it’s raining. If you can, it’s still raining.) Occasionally a family of tourists in kagoules would drift in reeling from the deluge, but for long periods of time the shop was empty. This must have been extremely worrying for the owners, whose business was fairly new, but what it meant for me was silence and solitude. Hours of it, sometimes.
In hindsight, I was depressed. Not because of the job, which gave me some structure and routine (in between shifts, I mostly lay on the sofa), but because of life events. I had dropped out of my course, had no money, and had had a bad breakup. London felt lonely and expensive, infested by privilege. Despite being in a sort of despairing fugue state, I spent my days serving up, with a smile, marshmallow pink ice-cream to children.In hindsight, I was depressed. Not because of the job, which gave me some structure and routine (in between shifts, I mostly lay on the sofa), but because of life events. I had dropped out of my course, had no money, and had had a bad breakup. London felt lonely and expensive, infested by privilege. Despite being in a sort of despairing fugue state, I spent my days serving up, with a smile, marshmallow pink ice-cream to children.
“I don’t know why you’d want to live in London,” my boss said, after which I merely glanced pointedly to the biblical gale twisting its way down the high street. A boy I had known since primary school slouched past and we shared a fag on the pavement outside. “I have to get out of here before I become someone’s dad,” he told me, taking rapid puffs. I knew what he meant: Kirsty MacColl’s twist on the Billy Bragg line “All the girls I knew at school were already pushing prams” came to mind. The fissure between those who leave and those who stay had already opened, and I had not yet picked a side. I had entered the adult world without a backwards glance but here I was again, immersed in childhood.“I don’t know why you’d want to live in London,” my boss said, after which I merely glanced pointedly to the biblical gale twisting its way down the high street. A boy I had known since primary school slouched past and we shared a fag on the pavement outside. “I have to get out of here before I become someone’s dad,” he told me, taking rapid puffs. I knew what he meant: Kirsty MacColl’s twist on the Billy Bragg line “All the girls I knew at school were already pushing prams” came to mind. The fissure between those who leave and those who stay had already opened, and I had not yet picked a side. I had entered the adult world without a backwards glance but here I was again, immersed in childhood.
What did I learn? That a boss who allows you to read in the quiet moments is invaluable. I made my way through my new course list: Calvino, Elsa Morante, Levi, Pirandello, John Berger’s Ways of Seeing. I read the classics my mother had left in my room two years before as a gentle nudge that law might not have been the right choice: Tess of the D’Urbervilles (things could be worse), Mansfield Park, little taster scoops of Ulysses. But before too long I had jettisoned them all for children’s literature: The Georgia Nicholson books by Louise Rennison, Just William, all the Harry Potter books.What did I learn? That a boss who allows you to read in the quiet moments is invaluable. I made my way through my new course list: Calvino, Elsa Morante, Levi, Pirandello, John Berger’s Ways of Seeing. I read the classics my mother had left in my room two years before as a gentle nudge that law might not have been the right choice: Tess of the D’Urbervilles (things could be worse), Mansfield Park, little taster scoops of Ulysses. But before too long I had jettisoned them all for children’s literature: The Georgia Nicholson books by Louise Rennison, Just William, all the Harry Potter books.
A part-time or summer job is a crucial stepping stone to adulthood, but what I hadn’t realised at the time was how it helped me accept my childhood. The children of the ice-cream parlour’s owners, and those who came into the shop, were in heaven. The Welsh mountains provided them with the freedom and adventure that I had come to take for granted.A part-time or summer job is a crucial stepping stone to adulthood, but what I hadn’t realised at the time was how it helped me accept my childhood. The children of the ice-cream parlour’s owners, and those who came into the shop, were in heaven. The Welsh mountains provided them with the freedom and adventure that I had come to take for granted.
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It would be the last summer I went home for the vacation. Not long afterwards, one of the kindly owners died, leaving behind a young family and a business that is thankfully thriving to this day. London was not to his taste, but it was to mine, and I came to make a success of it. But I owe my job at the ice-cream parlour for helping me get there, and for teaching me that becoming an adult doesn’t mean leaving the whole of your childhood behind.It would be the last summer I went home for the vacation. Not long afterwards, one of the kindly owners died, leaving behind a young family and a business that is thankfully thriving to this day. London was not to his taste, but it was to mine, and I came to make a success of it. But I owe my job at the ice-cream parlour for helping me get there, and for teaching me that becoming an adult doesn’t mean leaving the whole of your childhood behind.
I dropped in there not long ago, with an old friend who has been very ill. There was some other teenager behind the counter. I asked for dark chocolate, and my friend chose bubblegum, and I teased her for choosing like a kid would. We walked around the rim of the lake and talked about who was dead and who was in prison and who had had another baby, as we always do. I wanted to tell her that I regretted leaving so abruptly, that she would always be like family to me. But it felt mawkish, so I made another joke about her cone. She stuck her tongue out at me in response. It was bright blue.I dropped in there not long ago, with an old friend who has been very ill. There was some other teenager behind the counter. I asked for dark chocolate, and my friend chose bubblegum, and I teased her for choosing like a kid would. We walked around the rim of the lake and talked about who was dead and who was in prison and who had had another baby, as we always do. I wanted to tell her that I regretted leaving so abruptly, that she would always be like family to me. But it felt mawkish, so I made another joke about her cone. She stuck her tongue out at me in response. It was bright blue.
• Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett is a Guardian columnist and author• Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett is a Guardian columnist and author
Students Work & careers
What my summer job taught meWhat my summer job taught me
Students
Higher educationHigher education
DepressionDepression
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