PART ONE — What I Did Until I Didn’t

A personal‑essay timeline by Alison (born 1973)

1973 — Born into a world where girls worked early and often

I didn’t “start working young.” I started working as a child, because that’s what girls did — we helped, we earned, we filled the gaps adults left open.

Timeline Graphic Caption — What I Did Until I Didn’t

A life built on work that began in childhood: gardening at eight, dogs and babies at eleven, illegal leaflet rounds at twelve, buttons and chocolate at thirteen, market stalls, Health food, cleaning, AVON, chambermaiding, tuna packing, retail, childcare, motherhood, and survival. A carousel of jobs that never stopped, a system that never helped, and a woman who kept running until the running itself became the work. This timeline shows the years I earned, carried, scaffolded, and held everything — right up to the moment the paid work ended and the unpaid work took over.

1981 (Age 8) — Gardening for cash

My first job. Eight years old, hands in soil, being paid to garden. Honestly.

1984 (Age 11) — Dog‑walking & babysitting

Two dogs: Dumpy and Bow. Twice a week, paid. Babysitting already happening — cousins, siblings — probably unpaid. I was simply “second in charge.”

1985–1986 (Age 11–12) — Leaflet rounds with my Aunties Belinda & Kerry (illegal work)

A man in a camper van picked us up. Cash in hand. He had a lovely dog I also got paid to look after. Dodgy vibe - I’m fairly sure he was grooming my young Auntie. Memory fog, but the vibe was strong.

1986–1987 (Age 12–13) — Buttons, cards, chocolate

Before the pet food stall , My mum got us a job sewing buttons onto cards and packaging Hallmark cards, pyramid family system, 1000 hours for pence . I did the work. Paid for it, Vulnerable - l was totally ripped off. Also: chocolate tasting at 13. Yes, paid.

1986–1987 (Age 13) — Mr V’s Pet Food Market Stall

My first official wage packet. (loved this job) When markets where cool) Small, but mine. (With my then unemployed Dad at the time with the gift of the gab and me) I made zero £1's as by packing up time, I had spent it on an outfit that choosing passed the day away. Spinning paper bags or dog food and treats.

1987–1988 (Age 14) — Hungary Harry’s a Health food shop.

Worked way more hours than legal - love that but it folded fast, Pound coins in an envelope. Babysitting still ongoing. Cleaning jobs starting — hairdressers, my school friend Emma’s - dad’s office clean, Claire’s mum’s cleaning company (“Stay Clean”) school summer holidays employed.

1988–1990 (Age 14–16) — The forgotten Saturday job era

There was something here — I was always earning money — but the memory is gone. A missing chapter in the working‑girl archive. I remembered AVON — from about 13 to my early 20's. Too young, but my Mum lied so I could have the job.

1990 (Age 16 I think more like 17) — Chambermaid

Absolutely hated it. Boiling hot hotel rooms, mixed chemicals, trouble. Why the job , the uniform I thought the uniform looked fabulous like a French maid ? , But there's the key word Maid.

Very short‑lived. I realized I wanted to be the person in the hotel room, not the one cleaning it.

1990–1991 (Age 16–17) — Warehouse tuna packing

Day shift. Night shift. The most money I’d ever earned per hour. My Mum was supervisor; she left; I became supervisor. Four tins down the conveyor, into a box, stack the pallet. Enough money for my first holiday — Canary Islands, paid outright, and a full wardrobe - and like everything great the company folded.

1991–1992 (Age 17–18) — College (hated) + Dorothy Perkins in Debenhams

The interview: “You look like you like fashion, but you need to make a bit more of yourself.” Translation: wear makeup. I stayed a few years. Loved the folding square. Courtney arrives in this era.

1993–1995 (Age 20–22) — Aylesbury Job Carousel

British Home Stores Tesco B&Q More cleaning jobs. Attempted childminding — cash in hand, barely anything, basically helping people who couldn’t afford real care.

Then came my first full‑time job: Day nursery with Courtney. I earned £20 extra; the rest of my tiny wage went straight back into paying for the nursery. Working to afford the privilege of working.

This is where the balance tipped — the scale rocked. Instead of Rich helping me, we decided I’d work part‑time all week with the kids and then work paid weekends. No time off. No family time. Thursday nights, Saturday, Sunday — sometimes both. Running, earning, doing, constantly.

This is the moment life bent out of shape. Me always running to earn and do, never stopping.

Mid‑90s — Paris Shoes (Favourite Job)

Part‑time, but doing everything. Manager in practice, not in pay. Loved it. But childcare forced me back to part‑time. Realised the system would always shaft me: Earn too much for help, too little for stability.

All the money went to my wedding. Three months of full‑time work, taking home £20 after nursery fees. A terrible decision to stop — a male‑world logic. Instead of help, my ND brain saw the balance better if I did it all and then worked weekends.

Hindsight is a funny thing.

Late 90s–Early 2000s — Motherhood + retail survival

Had Molly. Job folded. Tesco — café, kitchen — it has a story: While I was out back, I came to the front of the shop and yelled, “What do you think you are doing?” Someone was stealing the till and its contents. True story.

B&Q (hated). We moved to Reading — transferred my job. British Home Stores again (bored shitless). Weekend shifts to fund birthdays, playschemes, clothes, days out.

Quit. Took a year to decorate the house — early ND breaking signs. Rich worked away; I got to regulate but had little to no help. My brother and good friends helped, but my ND mask slipped.

2000s — New Look (five years)

Zero‑hours but practically full‑time. My boss (my bestie). Taking Molly to work with me — no childcare. Born into work, again.

2010s — Sweden era

Couldn’t work legally, so I volunteered. Knit Café started.

Knit Lab - Voluntary Got my self on morning Network TV. Got myself in a book. Became everyone’s tour guide. Ran miles. Created community.

Also: £50 every two weeks for a few months - cleaning for a man who was shocking. Ironing his shirts. Cleaning his ridiculous flat. 500 kr (£35) in an envelope. Not worth it. Alison, Alison, Alison — condescending Lars.

And then… I didn’t.

The work stopped. Or rather — the paid work stopped. The unpaid work exploded: Motherhood, scaffolding entire households, emotional labour, survival.

The system didn’t stop using me. But I stopped being “employed.”

This is where Part Two will begin.