A Very Motley Crew

Iceman Hashgate David Caroline Karen TinOpener SlowSucker Potty Nutcracker Itsyor Fiddler OldFart DragonLady NipponTuck Chopstix ShitShoveller CIAC HeyBabe Centaur Premature TurdTreader Glittertits PissQuick Weeek DunnyStumbler Simple Soreskin Spex LoudonTasteless Motox BlowJob Twanky Hamlet Ms Whiplash OldDog SlackBladder Lonely Dutch Donut Katherine Mark Spot HitchHiker Mr Blobby Mrs Blobby Utopia Uplift Gnomealone Mike Janice Anorak Florence Zebedee Headboy Bex Bomber Posh Flash Cloggs Baldrick HarryPotter Mark

Mostly Legs and Cows

First of all, a word about Miranda who has been re-christened LiloLil following the number of times she was flat on her back with her legs in the air while BH3 was in Bude last week. Glittertits assures me she took the flour and beer baptism like the true Hasher she is. If only there were pictures…

It seems fairly typical that the week we meet at a pub with the most limited parking (and beer – we drank ‘em dry) absolutely everyone turns up, including PQ’s sister Weeeks who flew in specially from New Zealand wearing some cute black foot Hash earrings. Not every day you see a lady with her feet on her ears. Perhaps I’d better leave that right there. Very nice to see NipponTuck again – hopefully she will be bringing Puppy to the Fun Run. Also good to see David back on his second ever Hash. Any bloke who can drink as fast as he can is always welcome.

The balmy summer ‘evening (is) spread out against the sky like a patient etherised upon a table’ (a pint to the first person who tells me the poem and the poet). Many of BH³ appeared at least partially etherised. It always takes a half mile to get the creaks out some of the legs of our more geriatric members (I believe Motox has a geriatric member but he doesn’t like to talk about it) although Centaur’s leg was clicking away like a demented cricket later in the Hash. He hoofed past me coming back from the M4 asking if I could hear it. I certainly could. It almost drowned out the traffic. If it keeps up we’ll have to get him to run next to ShutupWally. Talking of legs, following the ritual finding of the first False and the mass backup of the Pack Simple decided to show me his right one (leg, that is) as we skipped across the first field. Crikey! The top of his outer thigh was yellow, purple and green. It looked like a small child had puked on it a week ago and he’d forgotten to wash it off. The gargantuan bruise was the result of hurling himself down a rocky mountain track on a bicycle, parting company from said bicycle and whacking his femur on the feldspar, quad on the quartz, so to speak. Just shows how comparatively safe Hashing is… unless your name’s Baldrick. Yet another person showing me her legs was Florence at the Long/Short split, probably because I’ve said before that she has a fine pair of calves and wanted another mention. She was displaying the various gashes and scars caused during the Bude visit which she said was C5’s fault for constantly sending her off to check it out amongst the furze and scrub. Hmm. And finally Zebedee turned up at the same spot and showed me his knee which he reckoned was playing him up. Since he has been running insane distances like a complete loon for some time I’m not surprised. I told him not to be a pillock and get on with the Long trail immediately which for some reason caused him to give me his car keys. Rover driver – I expect he’s a bit depressed. Our picture today explains pictorially how you should treat a leg injury: Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation… and the contents of the bottle hanging next to it will dull the pain.

Early on we hit some fairly dense forest with ‘challenging’ underfoot conditions. It was with some surprise therefore that I noticed that LoudonTasteless was FRBing ahead of Iceman, SlowSucker and Premature. It didn’t last long, there was a lot of shouting and he nearly lost a shoe (a bit like his lovemaking according to Spex) but I think he was satisfied with his efforts. Mr Blobby, Iceman and Premature led us over the tarmac horror that is the M4 (via a bridge I should explain) and down into a rather nice, grassy field which, in turn, led us to a quiet bridge in a forest over a meandering stream. 9 times out of 10 one would wade through the stream, pausing perhaps to guddle for trout, marvel at the multicolour flash of a kingfisher or gently detach the dental attentions of a passing croc from one’s leg. But no. ‘Twas not to be. Could we find the trail? Could we cobblers. Eventually, SlowSucker and Iceman passed under the other bridge near to this one and found a smidgeon of flour. David and I followed in hot pursuit, stopping on the other side of the field to enjoy the sight of the inquisitive cow herd approaching the oncoming Pack. It’s a fascinating sight as bovines and Hashers see each other and stop. Curiosity on one side and necessity on the other urge the opposing groups to edge forward, the more timid shuffling to the rear. After a lot of mooing the two-legged herd wander through… and somehow most of them lose the trail. After the FRBs had nipped off on the long trail I had to wait ages for the likes of Twanky, BlowJob, Chopstix et al to arrive. I had time to erect a small shed, train a family of badgers to dance a quadrille and dictate a treatise entitled, ‘The Boll Weevil – It’s Place In A Christian Society’. Eventually, Foghorn arrived, gave Potty a map (mistake) for the Short trailers and off we went. Oh yes, and when she appeared I managed to forget who Katherine was. The blasted woman only turns up every two months or so, so I forget her name. Pathetic really. Must do better.

But to the Short trail, which brings in more cows. Having caught up with Utopia and Uplift we found ourselves stepping over a stile to be confronted with the cutest little calves (no, not yours Florence). The fluffy, soft-eyed, dainty-hoofed, brown and white chaps were standing next to their mums who were laying down chewing a mouthful of grass each and viewing us with their lovely, long-lashed brown eyes. We walked carefully across the field so they wouldn’t be disturbed. “That one’s a bit bigger than the others.” Said Uplift. The animal mentioned lumbered to its feet. “Crikey! It’s a bull!” I gasped. “How can you tell?” Giggled Utopia with just a hint of breathlessness and a slight flush. The creature was, ahem, very obviously male and presumably not much of a runner. I mean, you wouldn’t want to tangle those up with your legs. Jolly painful I should think. And hurdling would be absolutely out of the question. We hurried on, finally reaching the exit stile and trotted on to meet Potty and the rest… who were trotting back towards us. The poor fellow had missed the left turn towards that well-known tower on the skyline. Still, it meant that just as we reached a Check in the middle of the barley field we met Long trailers Itsyor, SlowSucker, Centaur etc coming the other way. Nice timing Foghorn.

Despite this area being very well known by most of us the Hares managed to confuse us a bit and take us through some fearfully nice country – the peaceful barley field with two hot-air balloons in the background was particularly pleasant. Thanks to them.

One very last piece of information. Having changed, Utopia and Mrs Blobby were spotted wearing virtually identical, same colour fleece tops. What is going on here?!?!

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Glittertits presented the following :-

An interestingly stylish half

Up and Coming