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The title is not that much of an exaggeration, at around -5 degrees this certainly proved to be my most arctic fundraising experience to date.

That said, I’m not an overly experienced street fundraiser, I’ve dabbled a bit and helped out with bits and pieces of fundraising in university. My first major experience of fundraising took place in Paddington station during the early morning rush hour. I remember it well, the vague feeling of horror and impending doom as busy commuters poured out of the turnstiles like spring time salmon rushing up stream and began flowing around my trembling stationary figure. It had not exactly been my choice to be there, the agency with whom I was currently interning with had volunteered my services to another charity for that morning. To say the least I was feeling pensive, but I was there, I had the T-shirt, I had the bucket and I had the grim determination so I wearily approached a suited man and my campaign began. My introverted terror somehow expressed itself in a very Dickensian style of street fundraising. “Can you spare a copper for the blind sir??”, “Can you spare any change miss??” Whenever I’m lost for words I always seem to find my vocabulary and mannerisms returning somewhat into the 19th century and that day was no exception as I found myself curtsying to generous old men and doffing my imaginary cap.

The morning came to an end and I found myself pleasantly surprised with just how kind and generous the Paddington public had been, and admittedly slightly smug in the knowledge that my Oliver Twist methods had earned me the accolade of “Wow, you’ve done the best out of everyone”.

So, returning to the present and the cold, cold, cold days in the run up to Christmas. The Woodford Foundation had got in touch with me about their upcoming Christmas Campaign and I had happily agreed to lend them my ‘knowledge’ and ‘expertise’. After my positive revelations in Paddington, I approached Woodford with a lot more confidence, but once again it was not all plain sailing, as the snow proved itself to be a formidable and uncharitable villain as it repeatedly hindered my passage into town. When I eventually made my way to the Darwin Shopping Centre, in Shrewsbury, I was greeted by a team of friendly faces and a most welcoming offer of hot tea and biscuits. Once I was settled I was able to put into practice the things that I had learned from that blurry morning in Paddington station, one such thing being that there is nothing more unappealing and unapproachable to passers by than a bored or grumpy looking fundraiser. At Paddington I had used ‘Oliver’ to make myself approachable but for my time with Woodford I aimed for a slightly more 21st century image, so I giggled and chatted with my fellow fundraisers, danced and twirled away to the Christmas music, smiled till my jaws ached and tentatively approached people and asked for donations. The latter was something I was a little unsure of doing, as you never know how people will react, but (something else I had learnt at Paddington) I figured that I was inoffensive and harmless looking enough to get away with it.

However, Harry (Woodford Fundraising Supervisor and general good egg) suggested that it might not be such a good idea to physically approach people and ask for donations whilst they were doing their emergency Christmas shops, I understood his concern as this was Woodford’s first foray into the world of ‘bucket fundraising’, and they very much wanted to avoid a ‘chugger’ (charity mugging) reputation and keep a positive image with the Shrewsbury public. But I was nevertheless slightly foiled as, even in those terrifying early hours in Paddington station, I’ve never been the type of fundraiser to woodenly hold a bucket and stare moronically at my watch. It was time to reintroduce ‘Oliver’ so it was back to the “puss in boots” style eyes and Victorian mannerisms as I tried to make compelling eye-contact and suggestively incline my bucket towards passers by. It was always a bit of a release when I caught sight of a friend, someone who I knew well enough to mercilessly accost, and who knew me well enough not to take me too seriously when I ran up to them with a raised bucket and an excited exclamation of “donate or die!”.

The days past by with ups and downs, the ups being the merry Christmas music that was constantly being piped into the centre – giving me many fun hours of “guess that song!”, the lovely friendly interesting people I was working with and the surprising generosity of the Shrewsbury shoppers, who on many occasions halted their phone conversations and wrestled with hundreds of shopping bags in order to dig out some all important pounds. The downs, however, being the chilly winter weather and the occasional sad realisation that the glamorous woman with her purse in her hands was not, in fact, staring at me with starry eyes and a huge grin but was alas actually looking right through me at the high end jewellery store that resided behind our stand.

By Christmas Eve, the atmosphere was electric and full of jolly merriment. We had had such a fantastic reception and generous donations from the Shrewsbury shoppers that we decided to really push the boat out on the last day of the season of good will. Harry had brought in the cavalry in the form of various family members and we were all feeling a little braver in regards to the direct approach. Shouting was even on the agenda, as cries of “Any spare change to help deaf children all around the world” rose above the hubbub. The shy petal that I am, I can barely raise my voice at the best of times, so I have instant respect for anybody who can stand in the middle of a busy shopping centre and actively try and draw attention to themselves and their cause. Sure enough our hard work and efforts were resulting in donations all over the place. Home time soon came around and I was amazed to hear that in those 5 days over a thousand pounds had accumulated from the coppers and pounds and occasional fivers that the Shrewsbury shoppers had generously dropped into our buckets and cans. It was great news indeed and the Woodford Foundation thanked us all for our contributions and our selflessness in giving up our yuletide time.

In all honestly, I almost felt as if I had been given a little too much credit. It had been no hardship at all and made for a fantastic build-up to Christmas. The mind numbing chilly winter air aside, it was always a lovely atmosphere and I met some really great people. Also, I had the opportunity to “to help deaf children all around the world” (a phrase that shall be forever etched into my mind) and make a real positive difference to someone’s life. In a way, I could enjoy my stocking all the more on Christmas morning in the knowledge that it had been well earned.

On a more personal level, I would recommend that every shy and retiring person out there who suffers from confidence issues should give ‘volunteer fundraising’ a try. It always surprises me just how pleasant and willing to talk to you people are. Equally, you also realise that, on the few occasions when your fears come true and people do just brush you off or give you a dirty look, it really does not matter at all. It is the positives that stay with you, I shall never forget how on that day in Paddington an elderly gentleman said to me “you are such a hero for the work you do, you deserve a medal”. I recall with embarrassment that my response was a curtsy and a mumble of “too kind, too kind sir”, but nevertheless it was a proud accolade that will stay with me for the rest of my life.

P.S. With regards to the second to last paragraph, yes I’m 22 and I still have a stocking, but if you can’t regress into childhood at Christmas then when can you?!

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