The term “summer holiday” conjures up a multitude of delightful images, doesn’t it? Sunshine, relaxation, even relaxation in the sunshine – plenty of it, too. Long, lazy afternoons in the beer garden of your local with a group of friends and a few pints of Strongbow or Kopparberg (or even Magners, if you absolutely insist). Trips to the beach, if you’re lucky enough. A break from uni and lots of time off: it is a holiday, after all. What a concept. Perfick. And, also, what a bloody con.
I defy you to tell me that you’ve just had the summer described above. You have? Well, in that case you’re either a liar or you can get out. Summer is never the happy, idyllic escape that you dream of or see on the telly. I’m not saying that summer is a bad thing – I love a good chance to catch up with my home friends and even to return to the familial fold for a few months – just that we ought to change the name, because whoever termed it a “holiday” should get done under the Trade Descriptions Act.
So, it’s mid-June (or mid-May, if, like me, you’re a humanities slacker) and the time comes to traipse back home. You pack up your clothes, your CD collection and your pet goldfish (okay, maybe the goldfish is just me…); you strip the pictures from drunken nights in Fun Factory from your walls and say a sad goodbye to your room; you endure the usual parental moaning about how-the-hell-do-you-expect-us-to-fit-this-all-in-the-car and how you bring more stuff every time you come home. Sorted. Except there’s one problem, and it’s a fairly big one: you’ve not got a penny to your name.
I know that the words “students” and “money” tend not to be found sharing the same sentence space unless separated by the phrase “never have any”; it tends to be a fairly tempestuous relationship at the best of times.
I’ve yet to meet a student with sufficient budgeting skills to make their loan instalment last past the end of term, if they even make it that far. Let’s be honest, it all gets spent on snakebite in Solus and random crap which honestly did seem like a fantastic idea at the time. Their true worth shows itself (or its absence) a few months into the term when the cash machine starts shouting at you and you realise that even Tesco Value beans cost money. It’s fairly safe to say that only the most conscientious among us have anything left for summer expenditure. Bye bye, beer garden. Sigh.
There’s only one solution: getting a job. Oh my God! She just mentioned the “j” word! Yes, sadly, in order to give ourselves any hope of not maxing out our overdrafts, it’s what most students have to do over the summer. But not even that’s as simple as it sounds. Unless you’ve been such a diligent worker over Christmas and/or Easter that you’ve managed to swing it so that a job’s been held open for you, you soon come to the nasty realisation that finding employment takes time. And time is money. And you don’t have any of that.
Nobody really likes employing students; they have a nasty habit of hanging around for a few months and then promptly disappearing back to university, without even the courtesy of leaving the proverbial puff of smoke. When they do that, it tends to render all the training you’ve given them slightly fruitless. One of my friends was still struggling on the job front come late July. So far, so good on the relaxation stakes? Didn’t think so.
If, like me, you were fortunate, you might’ve managed to land a job through one way or another – maybe you’ve got connections, or maybe you just wormed your way in through sheer persistence. I spent the hours between nine am and five pm (barring the time between noon and one) from Monday to Friday answering the phone on the reception desk at my dad’s work. Bloody convenient, but perhaps not the most scintillating way of filling in the days. On a list of the most common answers to “how I spent my summer vacation”, I doubt it’s up there in the top ten. It was a steady income, though, and needs must. Time off? Check? Er, no.
And therein lies the hideous contradiction of the university student’s summer holiday: in order to afford to enjoy your summer holiday you have to work, but in working you forfeit a large chunk of the time available in which to enjoy yourself. Funds are needed in order to go out and have fun, but to get the funds you have to work. And while you’re working you can’t be out having fun. It’s not a holiday as such – more a period of time spent working rather than studying. Welcome to the real world, some might say. Still, I propose we change the name in order to make it more realistic because “summer holiday” just doesn’t do it justice, does it?
I reckon we could get round this. Tack a fourth instalment of student loan onto the end of the summer term. It’s an amazing idea – guilt-free expenditure at the expense of the Government.
I’m willing to concede that there are a few flaws in the plan. It would mean a lot of extra money would need to be found, thus probably diverting it away from the people who truly need it, we’d wind up finishing our degrees with even more debt than we’re currently heading towards – perhaps not the best of ideas when the credit crunch is all we hear about. We’d also basically be reinforcing the general public view of students as good-for-nothing layabouts who spend their time lazing around on government handouts. I’m not too bothered about that last point, to be honest – they already think it, so we may as well give them cause to.
These minor glitches aside, it’s the best idea I’ve had all day. Three words for you, Gordon Brown: sort it out. I’ll even let you take the credit for the idea. I’m expecting the Chancellor of the Exchequer to be ringing my mobile any minute now…
