Times are a-changin’ as everyone heads out to work

THE times have been a-changin’ in the Martin household this week, as the unlocking of lockdown has resulted in an almost unprecedented state of affairs. Everyone has been working!

Mrs Martin – having enjoyed the first month of lockdown lying in all that lovely sun – is now so busy she barely has time to eat and The Girl has been in full-time employment ever since she returned from university in early March.

The full house state of employment was completed last night when The Boy emerged from the room he occupies jointly with his enormous computer and announced he was ‘working tomorrow’. He promptly started making himself a packed lunch. To say this was a surprise would be a slight understatement as

– even though he is a more than capable cook – he usually requires some form of extreme enticement or persuasion. More wonder was to follow yesterday morning when he was up before me, made his own breakfast, packed his bag and headed off for work. It’s only a day, but he has another job tomorrow and my guess is he will get busier and busier as the summer goes on.

As he headed out I had a moment to reflect that The Boy is rapidly becoming a man. He wants to work for the money, of course, but what was most noticeable this week was how differently the call offering him the work made him feel. He was chuffed to bits. He had things to do. He seemed to stand a little taller, a young man about to make his first steps into the world of employment.

It will change him of course, he will mingle as an equal with other older workers, and he will learn all about what makes people tick and what makes the world go round.

My first job was labouring for a chap laying hedges. It was hard, physical labour but at the end of the first day he gave me fifteen quid. For both of the next days I went back and he gave me the same again and with the job done I had the best part of fifty quid in my pocket, as well as some very tired muscles and great feeling of satisfaction. I’m not sure I have ever felt so rich.

Next I had a stab at the slaughterhouse, where I was dispatched to work in the frozen portion packing section. This was 12-hour shift work, rough on the mind, and where I met some of the funniest and toughest people of my life. The Monday morning shift was often missing a crew member because he was in prison, and while the money was good I only lasted a few months.

I went back to labouring at the now sadly defunct Eggesford garden centre. Here I learned how to make trellis, lay slabs, how to drive a dumper truck and a small lorry. I made friends, laughed a lot and learned to treasure a lunchbreak, to wear proper boots, and how to roll cigarettes. I loved it there, especially on the days it rained so hard I was sent to the polytunnels to spend the day potting and re-potting, with the radio on and surrounded by bags of compost and thousands of geraniums. I’ve wanted my own polytunnel ever since!

As The Boy headed out in the morning, all lanky, and long haired and purposeful, I had the feeling that a stage of fatherhood had passed, that the last child had just about grown. I wondered if my Dad felt the same, and if he too would have felt much better if I had just rung and said everything was going ok.

The autumn will bring driving lessons and if all goes well The Young Man will be fully liberated and able to go out and explore the world he wants to. The times certainly are a-changin’.