Saturday, 17 September 2011

Taking steps to save life in the womb

David Aron is a young man setting out on a solo walk along the historic River Thames, 184 miles in total from 7th to 14th October - and all to raise funds for The Good Counsel Network, an organisation that works hard on behalf of the unborn and those considering abortion. David needs our prayers and....
....our money.
It is a most worthy cause; at first thought, I envied David the route that he is taking, along the beautiful Thames Valley (being TV, that's Thames Valley, raised myself) but then I remembered that, at the seaward end of the river, it becomes a tad bleaker and the riverside pubs disappear. And then I thought...184 miles? Stone the crows!......where's the sponsor button!

Here is the link for donations and here is a Thames verse to speed him on his way...

                                         Twenty Bridges from Tower to Kew -
                                        Wanted to know what the River knew,
                                      Twenty Bridges or twenty-two,
                                 For they were young and the Thames was old
                                       And this is the tale that the River told:-

                                     "I walk my beat before London Town,
                                       Five hours up and seven down.
                                  Up I go till I end my run
                                          At Tide-end-town, which is Teddington.
                                        Down I come with the mud in my hands
                                                  And plaster it over the Maplin Sands.
                                       But I'd have you know that these waters of mine
                                       Were once a branch of the River Rhine,
                                     When hundreds of miles to the East I went
                                           And England was joined to the Continent.

                                    "I remember the bat-winged lizard-birds,
                                        The Age of Ice and the mammoth herds,
                                        And the giant tigers that stalked them down
                                       Through Regent's Park into Camden Town.
                                       And I remember like yesterday
                                    The earliest Cockney who came my way,
                                When he pushed through the forest
                                                                        that lined the Strand,
                                        With paint on his face and a club in his hand.
                                             He was death to feather and fin and fur.
                                             He trapped my beavers at Westminster.
                                                He netted my salmon, he hunted my deer,
                                                He killed my heron off Lambeth Pier.
                                        He fought his neighbour with axes and swords,
                                 Flint or bronze, at my upper fords,
                                            While down at Greenwich, for slaves and tin,
                       The tall Phoenician ships stole in,
                                            And North Sea war-boats, painted and gay,
                                        Flashed like dragon-flies, Erith way;
                                        And Norseman and Negro and Gaul and Greek
                                     Drank with the Britons in Barking Creek,
                                 And life was gay, and the world was new,
                                  And I was a mile across at Kew!
                                      But the Roman came with a heavy hand,
                                        And bridged and roaded and ruled the land,
                                        And the Roman left and the Danes blew in -
                                        And that's where your history-books begin!"

Rudyard Kipling

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