Rebirth Part 1: Finding Work in a Rural Village

Who knew that finding work in a rural village could be so eventful! In this post share how began to put down rural roots in the village of Garstang by going on a quest for ‘a little job in the village’.

Despite the incessant rain of the worst spring and summer in living memory (literally!), the sun is coming out on my life. After much heartache and pain, the one thing that I have learnt in the past nine months is this: regeneration is possible.

After loss, erosion, decay, there is new life, rebirth and transformation. 

In this post I want to fill you in on where I am in this dream of going back to the land, and share with you some of the signs of rebirth that have been weaving themselves through my life. Beginning with work!

Transitions  

Back in 2021 I made the leap of faith that changed everything for me. I quit my secure teaching job and started teaching online. I did so in the firm belief that I was building a rainbow bridge from Madrid to some unknown but beautiful location in the Spanish countryside. 

Unbeknownst to me, this bridge was in fact set to take me back to the land where I am from, and away from everything that I had built for myself in Spain over the past 9 years. 

Thanks to this, I was able to make this transition with an income stream. I was able to stay at my brother’s house and then my dad’s house and then my friend’s Emma’s house, and then finally, live on a narrow boat on a marina in Garstang, rural Lancashire UK. 

I had students that came with me through this whole journey, laughing when it seemed like every class I was in a different location. The boat was certainly a novelty and added a cultural exchange element to the classes! 

On one hand, teaching online was ideal for living on a narrowboat. I could work from anywhere- from the middle of nowhere if I wanted! It allowed me the free time to get used to my new lifestyle on the boat.

But there is one big problem with working online: you never get out of the house to mix with other people. I started to feel trapped on my boat. I began looking for excuses to go into the village for a coffee just to be around people. Or walking to the supermarket just to have a bit of social interaction. 

Of course, travelling around on the canal network of England would be an amazing lifestyle, and a ‘normal job’ would tie me down. But I wanted to get out and meet people. I love solitude but not when it feels enforced. That’s called loneliness. I needed to get out of the boat and get to know my new community. After so much moving around, I needed to feel rooted and connected to the place I lived.

I also needed some routine. Something to give me a sense of normality, of having a place in society, something to root me to this new life a bit more.

Truth be told, I felt that teaching English belonged to a different life. I was bored of it. And the universe seemed to be mirroring this sentiment by gently bringing it to a close. I wanted to do something different, something more pragmatic, practical and hands-on. And so I set forth on the mission to find ‘a little job in the village’, as my mum described it. 

Who lived in this small market town of Garstang? What kinds of people passed through there? Would there be anything for me in this small high street? I set out to find out!

Cute Cafes and Cleaning Cheese Factories

My first port of call was the little cafe that in the centre of the village. It was modern and cute. I liked the idea of working in a cafe in the village. It felt romantic and whimsical, and I dreamt up fantasies of meeting lots of people there and wearing a cute cottage style apron. 

Upon enquiring about a job, the boss and owner, a girl who was considerably younger than me, began complaining about all her ‘young’ staff, who didn’t want to work and who didn’t have any initiative.

She wanted someone who was a bit older, who she would be able to train up to run the place by themselves eventually. My interest was piqued, as I was pretty sure I’d be able to whip these 19 year olds into shape. 

“And what kind of hours would it be?”, I asked.  

“Well, it depends”, she said. “When we are busy you will be in, but when we are quiet, I will send you home.”

Hmmm. That sounded quite vague. 

“What about the weekend?”

“Yeh, I’d need you at the weekend. Unless we are quiet, and then I will send you home”. Then she proceeded to tell me how bad her current staff were. Again.

“So I could come in on a Saturday and not make plans, only to be sent home?”

“Yeh, that’s right. I can’t offer a contract if that’s what you are looking for”.

“So you are looking for someone who is a bit older, who is willing to commit to your business and eventually run the place, with no security of contract?”

“Well, that’s just hospitality for you”, she said, defensively. “If you want to work in hospitality then this is what it’s like”. 

“Ok well, thank you, but I don’t think it’s for me”, I said. I was rather down and dejected. I had got attached to the cute cafe idea. Now I was back to square one.

I had heard that the local supermarket Booths had some adverts up for jobs. Feeling uninspired, I went anyway. The only part time positions they had were for cleaners. I’m going to be honest, I did not fancy a cleaning job. But I could hardly turn my nose up when my options seemed limited. I took a photo of the ad and later sent my application in.

I also went by the local cheese factory. Maybe I could learn to make cheese! A new fantasy unfolded in mind of me wearing a white apron and proudly holding out a big lump of cheese I had made with my very own hands.

However they only had cleaning jobs too, starting at 5am in the morning and working weekends. I ummed and ahhhed. But in the end, I decided to keep on looking for something better. Thus, that spelled the end of that cheesy fantasy.

Flowers and Sandwiches

Another day, another dollar. Another opportunity for new possibilities.

I set out on the village high street again on the hunt for my ‘little job in the village’. I tried my luck in the florist.

“Are you a florist?”, they enquired, when I asked if they had any jobs going.

“Err, no. But I do love flowers and always have some in my home”.

“I see…”.

Alas, there were no opportunities going there.

Next up was the sandwich shop on the high street. It had hot meat sandwich filling in the window and a queue out the door. 

“Hmmm, could I see myself working there?”, I wondered. It looked a bit daunting with all those fillings and all those people waiting, but what harm could it be to ask? 

The woman behind the counter was friendly and bright. She said they were actually looking for someone. Result! She said it was mostly serving and some food preparation, as they made their own pies and cakes. It seemed like a good opportunity to perhaps learn some new cookery skills as well as get out in the village, so I gave her my number and they said they would ring. 

And I heard nothing. 

So I went back in.

“Oh, great you have come back! I lost your number! I’m so sorry! I will get my  partner (the owner) to ring you”.

Great! I felt hopeful. Maybe I am getting somewhere after all. Something needed to change as I was getting more and more depressed with feeling so stuck on the boat. 

Still I heard nothing. 

I mentioned it to Stu at the marina who just happened to see the boss in the pub one night. Apparently the message that he had heard was that “a Spanish girl who lived on a boat was looking for a job”. 

“I thought she could just rob me and sail off! No chance I’d be giving her a job”, he said. Charming! 

Who knew that living on a boat could be detrimental to your job applications! And that information could be so distorted when passed on! 

But eventually when the facts were set straight, I got a trial at the shop. 

However, meanwhile I had already paid the farm shop a visit where I bought my fruit and veg. I had a trial day booked in with them too, for the following week. 

What is that expression? Men are like buses; you wait around for ages and then two turn up at once? Well it seems that the same can be said for jobs 😉

So I commenced my sandwich shop debut, doing 5 days in total. In case you have never worked in hospitality (as I hadn’t), let me tell you, it was hard work! So much for ‘the cute sandwich shop in the village’! 

It was an early start and with very few breaks, only grabbing something for lunch when we were quiet and eating it while standing up in the back. I tied myself up in knots trying to remember the prices of all the pies, sandwiches and hot food and always came back to the boat stinking of bacon and eggs.

Luckily for me, the farm shop trial went well so I was able to jump ships quickly. My sandwich making career may have been short lived but I must say that it was an interesting experience. 

There was quite an eclectic mix of people who came in. Lots of tradesmen wanting bacon and egg barms, full English breakfasts and flirty banter. Lots of older people who live in the village wanting their traditional pork pies and meat and potato pasties. 

Especially memorable was the older lady who made inappropriate jokes about having her warm knickers on for the cold day. There were also families, school kids and people just passing through and wanting to pick up a snack for the road. 

It also was nice to work with local women, even though our lives had been very different. There was talk of love lives, dates and just regular life chat. After so long away from my own culture, being able to meet the British public again, speak my own language and use my own accent was a welcome change. 

Also I learnt that sandwich making isn’t my strongest skill. Neither is mental arithmetic. I must say that I was pleased to leave that short lived chapter behind! 

On to my next work venture: the local farm shop. 

Farm Shop Venture

On paper, this opportunity looked like the most aligned with me and my values. But could this just be another rural fantasy that would later come crashing down in the face of reality? 

Stay tuned for part 2 to find out!

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