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Bracknell Sports Centre


Effin Butterfly Dribbler John

Punks and Hairies

Spot Hitchhiker Honeymonster Ms. Whiplash Salome Cap’n Haystax HeyBabe Potty Nutcracker ShutupWally 2Bob Puddleduck Dwight Julia and son Sam Yank TinOpener Krystyna BGB Paul Liz Chopstix Foghorn Baldrick OldFart John Helleth Pinky Cerberus Premature Bomber Poxh Itsyor Tweenie Iceman SlipperyNipple Lonely and dog Beaver SlowSucker and son Matthew C5 Sue5 Urine Paella Motox Cheating Dumper Septic Neil TT2 Cloggs Kevin Zebedee Florence Mr and Mrs Blobby Utopia Elizabeth Bob Anorak TrainSpotter Caboose HeadBoy Canoeist Keith

BH3 – The Big Twenty Five

Stone the crows! BH3 has been going for 25 years! 1978. The year after the Queen’s Jubilee. The Sweeney was on the telly. The music charts were filled with a curious mixture of Sex Pistols and The Osmonds and Max, Angie and Julia (better known as Dribbler, Butterfly and Effin) laid the first trail of the now very successful Berkshire Hash. At the time, Effin’s son, John, was merely a twinkle; Elizabeth was not even a glitter, and Dwight and Julia’s Sam hadn’t even booked his cabbage patch. Still, always nice to see some new faces. Also nice to see Bob who told me he was at the rehearsal to the first run and Canoeist who hasn’t run with us for a number of years. Also TT2 who has not graced us with his presence for many a long while. I believe the last time was when he tried to shove me into a field full of sweet corn as I trotted by him. What a nice fellow he is.

Spot strolled round the car park handing out excellently produced fact sheets. However, I must take issue with one of the facts relating to flour used. He worked it out at 4½ tons over the quarter century, using 7 lbs of flour per run (that would be a bloody great big pudding if it rained!). Now we’ve all been to certain Hashes where the Hares eke out the blobs in such a miserly fashion as to use approximately ½ a bag of flour – and then go round afterwards scooping it up ready for their next trail. I shall name no names, of course. I’d hate to send a reputation down the tubes.

Dribbler let us know that tonight’s trail had been laid as similarly as possible to the original, although Bracknell has been built on pretty solidly over the years. We On Outed en masse as some rather large rain drops began to fall and an ominous dark cloud began to cover the sky. Luckily, it buggered off (a metreological term used at the Bracknell weather centre) and we scurried pell-mell past the running track and into the suburbs, a plethora of Hashers old and new, stopping the traffic and worrying old ladies and small children. A feature of this Hash was the way in which the trail had been expertly crafted to keep the pack together at nearly all times. A more sardonic viewpoint might be that the blobs were a tad difficult to find. In fact the early parky bits were a lesson in confusion for any erstwhile Hares. People crashed around the jungly hills and to and fro among the velvet underground without knowing where to go. A couple of times the On was called when it wasn’t. Neil and I found ourselves in the middle of a dense patch of leather-leaved bushes reading last night’s soggy newspaper that had an ‘F’ on it. Still, it was nice to keep bumping into Mrs Blobby and Utopia and meeting new(old) friends like canoeist and HeadBoy. The people we never did see were Dwight, Premature and Cerberus. God knows where they got to. We didn’t even see them at the regroup. Talking of which, we approached this via The Lookout, that dense and delightful pine forest, filled this night with damp fragrance and stunning reds and greens. We had arrived to find a “S”hort and “L”ong trail apparently pointing in the same direction. A minor scratching of heads followed by a swift run up to the “F”alse. Haleth and I agreed that we had let Foghorn run all the way up to it because we thought it was “F” for Foghorn. We were so embarrassed to be mistaken… Bomber followed this débacle by running up a fairly steep, non-floured hill with me – just for the hell of it. Then Pinky made a right meal of jumping across the tiniest rivulet you ever did see. Fortunately, the lass got a way with just a damp ankle rather than a legful but it was touch and go. The trick with these hazards is to run at ‘em full tilt, close your eyes and jump. Works (nearly) every time. Althgough I have seen Cloggs up to her waist in cold water before now.

Dumper, Anorak and Paella decided to stroll casually across the next false with all the insouciance (the who?)and ‘challenge me at your peril’ attitude they could muster and we all finally ended up at the regroup where we met Effin, who had been shepherding the more leisurely Hashers. Cheating was bemoaning the fact that the trail hadn’t gone where he expected. So, no surprise to any of us there, then. John led us safely across the road away from the cars and into an area described by Effin as “a bit short of flour”. The Hares had obviously not adhered to Spot’s expected 7lbs and/or other people had been kicking the stuff away. Whatever it was, Canoeist, Cheating and I managed to go entirely the wrong way to start with. Then followed Zebedee and Neil going entirely the wrong way down another path. Florence, meanwhile, was trotting along with a big mac slung in a pouch under her arm. Perhaps she gets a little peckish on the Hash?

The Hares decided to have a little fun and detoured us via a half-empty stream with a tantalising white blob on the opposite bank and mucky water, pebbles and wurzels in between. It was exactly the sort of place that trolls and lurkers, well, lurk. We all knew it would be a false but we allowed Zeb and Tweenie to disappear into the bushes together just to prove it. As we emerged from this dampness we met Effin and Butterfly who were smirking at their little joke. It didn’t take much longer to get back despite a minor delay while Cloggs and Zeb got their bums wet slipping down a rather handy kids slide. SlowSucker, Caboose and I more or less followed Lonely and dog Beaver in. It is always galling when you run behind Beaver. Despite a slightly sideways running style he definitely runs like his long-ago wolfish ancestors. It’s a spare, waste no effort, go on for as long as you like, you’re not catching me up Hashgate, two fingers in the air sort of style that deserves a kick up the bum… if only I could catch him.

So we must congratulate our quarter century Hares for a repeat of their first effort. The pack kept together well; everyone was confused; the terrain was varied, and it didn’t drag on too long. Just what you want from a Hash really. Here’s to the next 25!

…and afterwards

we finally repaired to the café by the pond – despite the (surely intentionally) wrong directions on the back of the tickets. It was quite amusing as we all tried to follow the car in front, especially when the first car had little clue where they were going. The followers in my convoy rolled slowly down to a mini-roundabout at one point only to go right round it and roll right back again! We eventually got there and were treated to the sight of Utopia with half her kit off in the car park. Why, I do not know. Fine pair of legs, Utopia. Run in shorts from now on. Once in the café Chopstix confided secretly in a 250 decibel whisper that she has just become a granny! Then showed me pictures of the newborn infant ‘mewling and puking…’ etc. Fine little chap he is too. Whatever you do though, don’t let Motox know or he’ll write her in his little black book under the ‘Un-grappled’ list.

There was excellent beer to quaff and untold quantities of hot and cold food organised and prepared by…erm; didn’t actually find out though I’m sure C5 and Sue5 had major parts to play. Why not find out and thank the people concerned personally. It was superb. I must mention Salome, who had actually delved around in her loft and found something from the ‘70s to wear. Pity no-one told her it was the 1970s… only joking, honest! ShutupWally wore a boiler suit with his name on the back and a funny hat. I have no idea why.     On On.  Hashgate.

Up and Coming

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Ye Olde Leather Bottle





The Sun, Virginia Water
* Joint with Guildford *


*p.s. there are 10 (fairly obscure) references to late 70s punk and pop bands in this Gobsheet. Can you find them?