Why an abseil, I hear you cry?

On a wet Friday, Holly messaged three unsuspecting colleagues to challenge us to abseil down Millers Viaduct in the Peak District. How could we refuse her challenge!

So, Holly, Charlotte, Catherine and Gavin will be picking up the ropes and dangling off the viaduct on 16th March at 1pm.

Did I mention I am really NOT a fan of heights!

Why help us?

We know that poverty and low literacy go hand-in-hand.

Children who are growing up with the stress of not having enough food and living in cold and damp housing, are not well equipped to develop strong literacy skills. Through our literacy hubs, we aim to target the communities where there are a high number of economically disadvantaged families, giving them free access to resources and support to help them boost their children's literacy skills.

It is vital that we act now to give this generation of children a positive future.

Please support us to raise vital funds for the work that the National Literacy Trust are doing across the country.

How could your donation help?

£15.00 enables us to give books to children in deprived areas of the UK. Often, these children will have never owned a book before.

£20.00 could give a child access to resources, programmes and activities that will help them develop the literacy skills they need to succeed in life.

£25.00 helps fund family literacy packs for parents with children on neo-natal wards, helping them to bond with their babies through reading.

£50.00 helps train a volunteer to work with parents with low literacy levels and give them the skills to help develop their child’s literacy and communication skills.

A Yorkshire ode to abseiling

Right, let's get stuck in, the wind’s blowin' a gale,

Me ropes all set, but me nerves are frail.

"Stop natterin’, lad!" I tell meself, "Get on wi’ it!"

Tie the knot proper, no room for a misfit.

Up the cliff, me legs feel like jelly,

Heart thumpin’ hard like a Yorkshire telly.

"Eh, look at that view!" I reckon, proper mint,

As I step back, me boot toe on the brink.

"Right, let's ‘ave it!" I shout, goin’ over the edge,

Down I go like a dog off a ledge.

Rope’s a bit tight, me hands start to sweat,

But I ain’t no softy, I’ll not let it upset.

"Blimey, it's steep!" me brain says in me head,

But I keep me pace steady, no fear of bein’ dead.

Boots skitterin’ on stone, I’m feelin’ well ‘ard,

One slip though, and it’s straight down the yard.

But I’m nowt like a soft sod, I’m Yorkshire through ‘n through,

Me rope’s feelin’ solid, and the breeze blows true.

Reachin’ the bottom, I give a hearty shout,

“Nowt to it, that!” as I sort me self out.

With a grin on me face, and a cheeky smirk,

“I’m reet chuffed with that—now who’s up for the work?"