From Far and Wide (some wider than others)

Effin Liz Hashgate Busby Revolter LightScreecher Moneypenny StandinShit Goose IE Droop FagEnd TableWide Rider Windmill HitchHiker Spot Ms. Whiplash Salome Iceman Potty Nutcracker SlowSucker BGB Motox Lemming MotherTheresa Greenfly Caboose TinOpener Miranda and dog Emma Cheating Anna Squirrel with GBH and CircuitBreaker bringing up the rear (as it were)

Goring once, Goring twice…

Goring. Pleasant enough place. River, swans, old houses, pubs. BH³ certainly seem to like it. We have run around it three times in the last month or so. This weekend was GBH’s SODOFF Hash extravaganza with Hashers from Hertfordshire, Oxford, Severn Valley and West Devon congregating for a general booze-up followed by the runs (perhaps I could have phrased that better). This meant that there would be general confusion since a number of trails had been laid rather close to, in fact, over the top of, each other. Thus there was to be pink flour, wet white yesterday flour from yesterday’s trail, wet white flour from today’s trail, and fresh white flour from today’s trail all tossed casually hither and thither by dancing Thames nymphs. Or rather, by Anorak and Trainspotter, neither who had a clue where the Hash was supposed to start. Anorak sent me to the Youth Hostel up the hill where I met some friendly Herts Hashers coming down the hill, having been told that the start would be at the pub. No-one seemed to know where to park either since the YHA was full and the pub’s car park was the size of a handkerchief. It all got sorted out in the end and we started from the pub as most people were there already and didn’t fancy a sprint up the hill they had just come down.

The swan at Goring

Greenfly, Motox, Caboose et al had caught up and we jogged about the village finding False after False. Motox and I repaired to the nearest check to chew the fat and view a huge and magnificent old barn next to a smaller grain store, resting on saddle stones. There’s nothing like a bit of bathos on the Hash. One minute we were enjoying fine, old architecture. The next we were laughing our socks off watching SlowSucker being attacked by three dogs as he checked a grassy snicket. Our day now made perfect, we trotted off and left him to his furry fate. It wasn’t that long ago I wrote of him being butted in the goolies by a passing sheep. Perhaps SlowSucker and animals do not mix well.

Caboose gave us the next laugh by pointing out that the bar check with a ‘B’ beneath it was in a highly appropriate position next to the ‘Perch & Pike’ pub. ‘Bar’ check d’you see? Next to a pub? Oh, please yourselves! Somehow we got out of South Stoke via the church, which surprised some of the venerable middle England worshippers, two of whom kindly kept the lych-gate open as we filed quietly through. Perhaps they thought we were members of some obscure sect come to visit the Church and came down on the side of smiling ecumenism rather than “settin’ the dogs on those demn Johhny foreigners sullyin’ the blasted churchyard!”

We now began to get the idea of where we were going while running next to the railway where red and silver trains flashed past like arrows, deep into the heart of Goring. Homeward bound then and off we went after the flying Motox and Greenfly. Of course, when you get a sniff of home you relax a bit and this is where the legs start to tire. You still have another mile and a half of tarmac to negotiate and things begin to blur at the edges. Luckily I caught up with Iceman and then Spot, both of whom were going strongly. Just a few more sweeps and turns and, thank goodness, we were back at the pub.

A good long run with plenty of tarmacadam, confusion and false trails. Thanks Hares.

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Motox presented the following :-

Up and Coming