Party Guests

Spex Bob TT2 Hashgate Shep and dog Gnarler GBH Zebedee Florence TinOpener Miranda and dog Emma HitchHiker Spot Ms. Whiplash Nutcracker Gwen Potty Uplift Premature Cerberus and dog Molly KnackerCatcher Hamlet and dog Chad Motox Baldrick Iceman James Steve heyBabe ShaginaJag Centaur Foghorn Mr and Mrs Blobby Utopia Honeymonster Sue5 Glittertits PissQuick Muff 2Bob Michaela Puddleduck Septic Flash Ruth OldFart BGB Cap’n Haystax ShutupWally Ernie Lindsey Chopstix ian Vicky Cheating Cloggs Lonely and dog Beaver Kathy Debs FlourPower CoolBox Karen (now DutchCap – see below) Itsyor

C5’s Birthday Run

I know many of you out there think of C5 as a bit of a wuss. A big softie. A bloke who’d rather mince about flicking a duster over the chintz upholstery than doing anything vaguely approaching the butch. I must beg to differ. Our 657-year old Hare was pasting through the narrow bracken trail in the forest tonight just in front of (co-incidentally enough) Baldrick and myself when his plimsoll caught in a large tree root and down he went like a felled ox. There was a massive thud and a pressure wave spread out through the woods from his epicentre, shaking bushes and frightening small animals. Up he got and carried on as though nothing had happened! It wasn’t until we returned that we saw that he seemed to be growing a third kneecap in the middle of his shin. What an absolute pbrick! A real Tough Guy. I interviewed him later about the massive swelling and he merely opined regretfully that he wished the root had caught him at groin height. He’s my hero.

But this was some time after Foghorn had wrapped a birthday balloon on a string around C5’s wrist and the large contingent of Hashers had On Outed – some the short way, the rest of us, the long. It was nice to see Michaela, 2Bob’s daughter joining us and FlourPower from Cambridge and Ernie from Nassau returned with virgin friend Lindsey. Spex had even persuaded her husband Bob to join us again. While the SCBs went for a nice stroll we headed out on a loop that would bring OldFart and myself back to the pub where we waved at Sue5 and Honeymonster enjoying a drink. We waved at them again as we blasted back, having gone completely the wrong way by following the walker’s Out trail. Still, this enabled me to catch up with walking wounded Mr Blobby and have a pleasant chat while trying to avoid that exceptionally unfriendly furze stuff. Holly, brambles and berberis have nothing on it. It’s horrible and gets under your skin. Talking of which, ShutupWally joined us so I made my excuses and left. Poor Mr Blobby couldn’t even jog away. Premature and Molly came up with us, having made the mistake we all make at one time or another. He had followed Cheating because he seemed to know where he was going. I explained that Cheating always has the unmistakeable air of a man who truly knows where he is going… even when he doesn’t. Premature promised never to follow him again and we agreed to speak of it no more. Of course, being at the back meant we met lots of people and we seemed to do this rather a lot tonight – the sign of excellent trail-laying. And being at the back meant occasionally finding yourself at the front when the pack reversed! We came to a large flour ‘W’. Dumper advised us it stood for ‘Walkers’. Motox advised him that he ought to brush up on his spelling, given the low calibre of Hashers heading in that direction. We sped off after the pack, watching Vicky, TinOpener and Spex thrash blithely across a False in the forest, until we all ended up in the middle of a track in a confused muddle. Iceman, Cloggs and I had found an ‘F’ further up. Baldrick had found nothing up another track. Ian, James and Lindsey another. We dithered. We commiserated with Glittertits who had stuck his ankle in a bunny’s hole and sprained it (his ankle; not the animal). Florence glided fragrantly over for a chat when I stopped her in mid-step with a horrified “Noooooo!!!!!” Down in the forest something’s turd. Beaver’s, in fact, was an inch below Florence’s ready-to-land foot. Lonely’s canine poo-machine had crimped off a large one and hidden it carefully among the tall grass. He’s a little tinker, isn’t he? C5 eventually sorted us all out and we all crashed off into the dense woodland just before C5 did his own woodland crash and rapid recovery. Ian got the bit between his teeth now and we followed him as he a) got lucky on the checks, and b) got pointed in the right direction by Dumper. Shep found a bar check, lost a dog and then found a stream. Now there was a bridge over the stream with a bar-check on it and several sinners, Spex included (“Contact lenses.” She beamed) trotted across. Shep meanwhile was washing his T-shirt in the stream with Septic on the bank hopping about on one leg, then the other somewhat agitatedly. You could almost hear her thoughts. “I don’t want to go over Derek’s nice bar-check but if I go in the stream that awful Shep will get me all wet! Oh what to do? What to do? Stream? Bar? Bar? Stream?” Another minute passed. “Oh f**k it.” She decided suddenly, and ran through the stream like a lightning bolt. Shep missed her by miles.

We began to find flour question marks, which the Hares had explained had meant that they didn’t know where the trail went either. The pack clustered again and Uplift and PissQuick hove into view. TinOpener appeared. Even Cheating. Down by a lake we went. Then back up into the woods. Mr Blobby and Glittertits limped along, each acting as the other’s crutch. It wasn’t a pretty sight so we left ‘em as rapidly as possible. Then somebody turned up the volume dramatically and we came across a wandering Foghorn calling the On. KnackerCatcher and Zebedee flitted through the vegetation. Shep’s dog Gnarler hurtled past me, hurtled back again, then zoomed past once more for good luck. I’m sure the damn thing was just taking the p**s. When Shep gave me a lift back home she stood just between us and out of the corner of my eye I could see her winking and grinning superciliously next to me.

We finally reached the On Inn (despite Vicky trying to trip me up in the forest) and hopped out on to smooth tarmac next to Steve. Our little group consisted of Steve, Spot, Premature and Molly on her lead. You’ve heard of Catastrophe Theory? Well this is a prime example. One minute we were following Spot in an orderly fashion and talking in a relaxed manner. The catastrophe moment arrived – Spot turned sharp (very sharp) left into the pub field. Steve went straight on. I tripped over Spot’s feet and Molly. Premature had to let go of the lead before he was dragged through the hedge and blokes and dog all burst through in a generally chaotic fashion. It seemed a fitting end to the excellent woodland chaos that we had just enjoyed.

Thanks to C5 and Dumper for a masterly trail on a fine evening. Oh, and a very Happy Birthday to C5!
On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Motox presented the following :-

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