Not a bad haul really. Certainly less than the cost of my trip to Birmingham, despite the rather extortionate £40 train fare (with a railcard).
I arrived at midday on Monday, and arranged to meet my friend Alastair for lunch in town. I had some forty minutes to kill first, though, so I took the opportunity to take a gander at the new Bull Ring Centre.
They knocked the old one down in my first year at university, and the new one opened shortly after I left in summer 2003, so for those four years my local city centre consisted largely of a gigantic crater.
Bastards. Why wasn't Birmingham this nice when I lived there? And I swear the Rotunda and St Martin's Church were never that close to the city centre before. They must have picked them up and moved them.
The most awe-inspiring moment of my first visit to the new shopping centre was actually a moment that inspired awe in the most childish part of my consciousness. I looked down from level two to level one, and saw a shop called The Bear Factory, selling, erm, teddy bears, no less.
Looking slightly to the right I could help notice that it was right next door to Ann Summers. This juxtaposition reminded me of a joke I recently learnt backstage at the panto:
What do train sets and breasts have in common?
They are both intended for children, but it's usually men that end up playing with them.
I very quickly tired of heaving my rucksack around the shops, however, and headed off for Newhall Street, where Alastair had assured me I would find a Wetherspoon's pub. I didn't. Because it wasn't on Newhall Street. It was on the continuation of Newhall Street, the name of which I forget.
No matter, he came and met me, and then frogmarched me to the pub. Sort of. And a lovely pub it is too. With zebra print on the front of the bar. Mmm, nice.
Smelly Oak (sorry, Selly Oak) has changed a bit too. For a start, half the curry houses have been replaced with various alternative restaurants, such as Chinese and Italian. There's also a 24-hour cafe called Insomnia, with the subtitle "I can't believe it's not Paddy's". Fat Paddy's is the well-loved bar in the university sports centre. He can't get a license for this one though.
I met up with Russell and Rachel (I'm skipping the bit where I dumped my stuff at their flat) when they finished work. We had a drink with their friends in the Staff House bar, what with their being PhD students now, and I met Rachel's supervisor, Chris, and his impressive beard.
It would have been rude, of course, not to follow this up with a curry. So, in true non-rude fashion, we followed it up with a curry.
Much of Tuesday was spent wandering aimlessly around Birmingham and then Selly Oak, but I did manage to confirm that I could collect money for my trek in the Guild of Students. I also met the lovely Laura, President of Carnival, in the process, so I was now able to put a face to the name and voice. I don't know why I'm always surprised at what people look like when I finally meet them, as I have no idea what they look like to start with, but there you go.
Tuesday evening, or Pancake evening, as I prefer to call it, was a nice evening thing with a big stack of pancakes between us and Shrek 2 on DVD. Hurrah for pancakes. Hurrah for Shrek 2. And, indeed, hurrah for DVD.
On Wednesday I was much more organised. I had written a list.
And so, by mid-afternoon, I had bought my Grandpa's birthday present, I had copied loads of flyers to hand out on Thursday and I had bought sellotape, a marker pen and four bags of mint humbugs.
I rewarded myself with a visit to my old house on Dawlish Road, to see Tommy and Devin. They have a new landlord now, and he sounds just as crap as the old one. Except that they never met the old one in two and a half years, and they have met this one already, so it's not all bad.
While I was there I was treated to a taste of O'Grady's, a cheaper Irish cream than Baileys, and not bad at all. So if you don't want to fork out too much for your Irish cream, it's not a bad alternative. Available at Sainsbury's in Selly Oak, if nowhere else.
In the evening, Rach went to a friend's, so Russ, Jay and I watched the England-Holland friendly. Well, when I say watched, I really mean drank beer and paid scant attention to the dullest game of football ever televised.
And then the day arrived. I was to collect in the Guild by reception. I would meet someone at 10am who would provide me with buckets, a table and a backboard. First, though, I would go to Aldi and get some more humbugs. Four packs surely wouldn't be enough. So I bought two more.
It started to rain; a good sign, I thought, as people would hang around inside longer, and so would be much easier to prey upon.
I went round the different parts of the Guild, leaving flyers in Cafe Connections, the Food Hall and Pronto, the smallest "superstore" known to Man. In Joe's, I asked a woman if it was alright to leave flyers on their tables. She told me she was from Warburton's and she was there to leave flyers herself.
Shortly after, the people from Kingsmill arrived. The Bread Wars had started, it seemed. No sign yet of my saviour, though, and it was already 9.59. Paranoia took hold. Would I be standing there like a lemon all day. Yes, I would, but fortunately a lemon with a bucket and a table.
Jaime came with a bucket. She asked me if I needed another, and I told her that I might: someone from the Stop Aids Society, also an ex-SPW volunteer, might be meeting me. He didn't, as it turned out, but that was not a problem. He was very busy and forgot until it was a bit late, apparently. Oh well. There is a big event tomorrow by Stop Aids, so he can be excused.
Jaime went off and came back shortly with another bucket. She asked me if I needed anything else.
"Yes, I was told I could have a table and backboard as well."
Ah. She hadn't been told that, just to meet someone called Phil who needed a bucket. She went off to find out about it. Meanwhile I stuck a sign on the front of my bucket. Soo, the receptionist had cottoned on to who I was and told me I had been moved down the corridor opposite STA Travel for Health & Safety reasons.
There were even a table and chairs there. And a photo machine. With a very excitable female voice. Boy, did she count down from three to one with gusto!
Thank bloody God I was moved, though. Hardly anybody ever walks through reception anyway; most people come in the other and I'd be more likely to catch them in my new spot. There was no backboard, but Jaime soon turned up with one, hoping I still needed it after carting it around trying to find me.
It was one of those fluffy boards, so sellotape wasn't the best technique for sticking up my info and photos. No matter, the edges were plastic so I could stick the edge pieces and then stick the other pieces of paper to those. By 11am I was ready.
I started offering humbugs to anyone walking past. A surprising number were turning me down, presumably because by accepting they knew that they would become vulnerable to whatever I wanted from them. I also had stiff freebie-competition from loaves of bread at one end of the Guild, and Times newspapers at the other.
Overall, though, it went very well. Once I got people's attention, and got in my explanation of what I was doing, they found it difficult to shun such an obviously good cause. People were even promising to come back later because they didn't have any change. Even better, they did actually come back.
I did, of course, give many people The Fear. I could see them come around the corner into my corridor, into my domain. They froze momentarily, considered turning back and going the long way around. Then they marched along the corridor on the other side, eyes down and to the right. Poor souls. A cold sweat, and all for nothing.
One girl smiled shyly throughout my explanation of the trek. She then stood there for a little while longer, still smiling, but staring too. I could see her mind processes behind her eyes. She slowly edged away and backed off. I made a point to beam at her whenever she walked past from then on.
Many people, though, were really genuinely interested in SPW, or in me making presentations to their various student groups. I acquired a few email addresses and even more people acquired mine. I had lovely chats with people who had themselves been to East Africa, and with people who were really interested in doing something like SPW, but didn't know how.
I met a girl who had been teaching English in Kilimanjaro region, with the Village Education Project. Other people had been involved one way or another with Intervol, a sort of international volunteering agency, as far as I can tell at the moment.
I met several people from the university People & Planet society, and also from the Stop Aids society.
One girl was unfortunate enough to be chatting to me when someone came to take my photo, and got hauled into it, saying, "I hope I'm not going to be on the front of some magazine."
Another listened to me before bursting into a fit of hysterical giggling. I suppose she just recognised the absurdity of placing the following two questions so closely together:
Would you like a mint humbug?
Can I have all your spare change?
By the end of lunchtime I was knackered. I'm pretty fit when it comes to running at the moment but, although that is much more intense, it doesn't prepare you fully for staying on your feet all day long.
At about half-five I got in touch with Laura and Jaime, and they told me to leave the money in reception with security. So that is what I did, at about 6pm.
I walked out and soon found myself walking just behind Russ and Rach, so I walked back with them, getting very very wet. It was such a filthy evening we decided to stay in and watch telly. But first, Sainsbury's! I'll spare you the details of such an exciting chore, though.
Today I did very little but did go to the Stop Aids meeting in Beorma Bar, upstairs in the Guild, at one o'clock. Nice to meet other people, and useful to see what they do, but not really the most exciting part of my week.
The most exciting part was that I collected £107 in my bucket yesterday. Plus the £30 I received from other people I know. Which is nice.
By the way, before I forget, I signed the Make Poverty History petition today at Bristol Temple Meads and bought my white wristband. Don't forget to do the same, at your local Oxfam or presumably on the web.
No comments:
Post a Comment