AS A bit of a foreigner in Worcestershire, being from the Black Country, I am astonished by the amount of charity that the shire folk get up to.

Charity on the streets of Wolverhampton is not giving grief to the aggressive preacher outside the Mander Centre, but in Worcester everyone and their friends and families are shaving their heads, peddling their bikes and legging it miles and miles to raise some cash for hospices and trusts.

I've recently spoken to people who are doing a skydive next month, a family who have just abseiled down a Birmingham building, a nine-year-old who shaved off her golden locks, and a hoard of people running marathons and cycling around the country and back.

Now, where I'm from, most of this doesn't seem to be happening, unless it just doesn't hit the press. Personally, I have done sponsored swims and regularly give to cancer research, but the most I know about a fundraising attempt near my hometown is my friend who is growing his beard for a year. Hardly a physical challenge, minus the itching, but at least he's breaking the norm.

Despite all these pounds and pennies raised and shed for the likes of Acorns Children's Hospice, St Richard's Hospice and various other county causes, why does the attitude not transcend into every day lives?

Fundraisers taking to the streets for good causes are being shunned and told they are bothering shoppers. Worcester City Councillor Jabba Riaz labelled them "chuggers" or "charity muggers" in 2012, then in 2013 councillor Alan Amos took over the witch hunt to drive them out of the city with the council backing a part-ban on street collectors.

I was stopped by a fundraiser the other day while on my lunch - he smiled, he took me out of the sun that was in my eyes, asked me about my day, talked to me as if I was a human being.

The spiel for the charity was hardly spiel at all - you get more spiel from someone trying to sell you a mobile phone contract, talk you into that extra upgrade, or a cashier trying to sell you something un-useful that surrounds their cash registers as you buy the only thing you entered the store for.

In the end I signed up for a monthly gift to the charity, knowing that I was not going to miss £5 a month if it was going to benefit farmers rebuild their world and become self-sufficient.

Maybe it's because I have done their job, except mine was door to door fundraising, therefore I know how it feels to have just one person listen to something you are so passionate about rather than slam the door in your face, or maybe it's because I don't run marathons because one sporting donation isn't as helpful as a regular sponsor in my eyes.