For my first story, I thought I would be appropriate to tell you something which happened during the first few weeks of my being a fundraiser.
From what I remember, the team I was with were in Doncaster. We started shift in a fairly ordinary looking council estate with some more mid-dem houses as we went through the day. Our work day goes like this; be at the office no later than 2pm, travel to where you're working and start knocking doors by 3:30, we then get a half hour break around 5:30, and finish knocking at 9.
It was approaching break time and we'd started to move out of the council estate, and with about ten minutes to go I knocked on the door of the most British man I have ever met. Dressed fully in tweed, with an impressive grey mustache gliding away from his face, he greeted me warmly and the conversation went something a bit like this:
