Run Number:

1314 26/01/03

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The Queen’s Oak Finchampstead


Cerberus Slowsucker

Marathon Men and Women (Well it felt like it)

Chopstix Honeymonster Dorthe Hashgate 2Bob Puddleduck ShutupWally Foghorn Lemming Mother Theresa CabooseOldFart Motox Craig Julie BGB Lonely and Beaver the dog HitchHiker Premature and dog Molly Dumper Septic Zebedee Florence PoisonedChalice and a special guest appearance by Mr Mainwaring and Squelchy – how nice to see them again.

There’ll Be a Long, Long Trail a-Winding…

It was a day for seeing long absent friends. Dorthe and Squelchy, whose legs have set many a (male) heart a flutter (I distinctly remember Squelchy in a short Mini Mouse skirt on the Red Dress Run a few years ago!) appeared. And Mr Mainwaring, the sight of whose legs have certainly caused palpitations in a number of Hashers over the years. Very nice to see them and a special thanks to the Mainwarings for making the long journey from their country estate. No doubt their loyal serfs will be tilling the magnificent gardens, shining up the copper saucepans and black-leading the grates, eagerly awaiting the return of their master and mistress. I can just picture the scene as the Lexus purrs up the endless drive lined with cheering yokels obseqiously bowing, scraping and tugging their foreskins. Actually, another strange sight greeted our eyes in the car park. This was Motox who was either intent on airing his armpits after a long night typing away in the chatrooms, or was practising his football supporters wave, arms in the air and stretching left and right, ready for when Reading join the Premiership. His bad back excuse was immediately dismissed as a blatant falsehood.

I must say that SlowSucker looked like he’d been ravaged by several randy pine martins, two pot bellied pigs and a dromedary on heat. The breath rasped from him. His demeanour was stooped and slow. The eyes resembled two pools of p**s in the snow white vista of his pain-wracked face. To say he looked knackered would be an understatement. The poor chap was completely cattle-trucked. On the other hand Cerberus was vibrant and energised, her slim frame bouncing about the car park. It was obvious that she had either used her feminine wiles to get poor SlowSucker to lay all the long trail (“I couldn’t possibly run through all that mud. Think what it would do to my hair!” Flutter, flutter. “Oh is my top button undone?” etc. etc.) or the HRT (Hash Recovery Treatment) is kicking in big time. Either way, we figured we were in for a long one. How right we were.

While everyone else went down the road I burst off right figuring on a double, double bluff based on the last trail from here. Fat chance, of course, but I did get to meet a friendly Finchampstead Coaster out training for the London Marathon. We chatted amicably before I had to run like buggery the wind to catch up. Great start. But then it got much better with the Hash well strung out and staggering across grass and deep shiggy. 2Bob and birthday boy Puddleduck steamed like expresses across the soaked sward with Dumper and Septic in their wake. There were checks a-plenty and an early bar caught out Premature and Caboose quickly followed by a lost BGB and Honeymonster who ran past me down a False while I was taking a ‘comfort break’. Honeymonster gave me very sage advice as he skidded past. “Don’t get your dictaphone wet!” He cautioned. We were into some filthy, low-lying, smelly, root-tangled foresty area where the shiggy was ankle deep and you had to beware waiting Foghorns. He and Lemming were in their element – i.e. filth – and many people, Chopstix especially, got splashed with foul smelling slurry by the pair. However, I did manage to get our Great Leader right up the back with a mighty, well-aimed dollop of sludge. He took it well. Zebedee suddenly appeared out of nowhere, evidently taking BGBs more usual role. Actually, I must mention BGB here. The blighter actually called two Falses as Checks today, causing great mis-direction and consternation. I know he doesn’t call very much. At least he could call correctly when he does. ‘TrailBlazer’ my furry butt!

Several bars had slowed the FRBs and the pack was keeping very nicely together. Especially when we got to a bar from a check with a False going the other way. It turned into a complicated back-check and certainly did the job. We turned on to a wet area of heather with a narrow path going across it. OldFart and Premature led the way with Premature kindly warning me of a deep hole under water by running into it. I managed not to fall over laughing but nearly did when I heard the screams from following Hashers OldFart and Craig as they blundered into the same hole. A Long/Short split took us on a hike round the boggy forest where Dorthe enjoyed some ankle-deep mud and Lonely led us to the regroup where the Short Trailers stood, looking cleanish and smug as we staggered to a halt. At the foot of the nearby singpost stood a little teddy bear, similar to that in the picture. “Aaah.” We cooed. “The poor little fellow’s out here on his own.” Not so OldFart and Zebedee. The former mused on whether the furry chap would like a good stuffing and Zebedee placed it in a position (on all-fours) to get one, carefully propping it up on a twig for maximum leverage. Lemming looked very interested but caught Mother’s eye and subsequently feigned disgust at the entire procedure. Of course, this was where the real Long and Short split started and the foolhardy among us followed Zeb on the Long, little realising quite how blasted long it was to be. Over forested hills. Along mud trails. Across soaking grass. Down endless tarmac past lots of twitchers with binoculars looking for the rarely seen redwing. They may not have seen many redwings but they saw a lot of red-faces. We were gasping up those damned hills (there were many) like mountaineers without oxygen. Premature, Molly and I supported (almost literally) each other as we staggered up each one. I think it was only macho competitiveness that kept us going – apart from Molly, who was trotting casually along, eating up the miles with an effortless lope. We eventually looped right back to the original regroup site and although Zeb, OldFart and I started off round it again in the forlorn hope that there might be some directional arrow, we soon came back and caught sight of Dorthe and Florence sucking their way through the mud. Honeymonster and Caboose appeared (how’d they do that?)and we followed them for a bit. But Premature and I had had enough fannying about and needed a pint. Only another two miles or so and we got one… but we were too knackered to drink it!

A stunning trail, in more ways than one. Our thanks to the hardworking Hares. Well done, chaps!
On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Motox presented the following :-



Style points

Mr. Mainwaring Squelchy

Returnees and Mr Mainwaring’s 300th run, making him a life member. Hurrah!

Not bad at all for an old couple well out of practise…


Getting very muddy indeed!

An excellent Down


His birthday

Stamped on his cake and threw his lemonade away. Obviously growing up very fast.


Calling Falses as Checks

Much better effort than his calling


Wearing best trousers on the Hash

Excellent execution with a leaning forward style


Calling his wife Cerberus, fat!

Reasonable effort by the cad!

Cerberus Slowsucker

The Hares

Cerberus beat the poor sod all ends up

Up and Coming

Run Number


Grid Reference






Greenacres Squash Club
Pyle Hill, Newbury





The Lamb, Enborne, Newbury
* The Red Dress Run *
* All blokes MUST wear one *