Blobbettes

Mother, Lemming, Hashgate, Spot, BGB, Ms Whiplash, Effing, Hitchhiker, Chopsticks, Posh, Bomber, Pissquick, Glittertits, Foghorn, Lonely and Beaver, Le Voisin, Honeymonster, Dutchcap, Cloggs, Nonstick, Motox, Florence Mark, Shaginajag, Poppy, Slackbladder, Caboose, Specs, Dutchcap, Septic, Utopia, C5, Baldrick, Chuck, Trembler, Dumper, Crackerjack, Iceman, Wally, Young David, Drexel and some others…

The Run

I wish I was awake in the mornings. Some bloke walks up to me and says can you do the gob sheet and thrusts a piece of electrical equipment in my hands. Not thinking, I stop to inspect my new toy. Bad move. Whoever gave it to me has wandered off. I’ve got an idea, lets give it to Spot, he can do it for me. Spot says he has no computer (how does he effect his hobby of cataloguing WWII bunkers in Berkshire then?). He offers (well I asked) to record it for me and I can type it up.

Even worse move, now I am listening to a tape of Spot’s heavy breathing with people shouting in the background. Ah well. The following is a mixture of personal recollections and Spot’s muttered utterances.

Out of the pub and up the hill. Nice of Mr. Blobby to show us the way. I might as well follow him round. Horseplay starts immediately. Surprisingly not initiated by Lemming. It was Foghorn, but Lemming joins in cheerfully. Bugger I’m wet now.

Then what happened, well we wandered round a field into a forest, past some grumpy horsepeople and then…..A stream, deep, lots of mud, it’s a proper hash at last, none of this namby pamby running around in woods, this is a proper ~~man’s~~ person’s hash.

More woods, very nice, a bit of common, a regroup. I’m getting tired now, who’s idea was this. Think I Know where they are going, I’ll just shortcut along this path. Sod it…after a bit of a detour, rejoin at the back. Where are we, I know, we’re bloody miles from the pub at the wrong side of the Roman stuff.Only another mile or so of muddy trudging and we’re back.

Down Downs

No idea, I assume the hares and some others, I didn’t have time to hang around. That’s what you get when you force the job of gobsheet onto some unwilling half asleep idiot. Who cares anyway, it’s the same old rubbish every week. I don’t know why I do this really. I think I’m losing the will to live, or at least hash!

Next Run: Red Dress Run (Hooray!), Hook & Tackle Reading, GR 714728