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The Wheelwright’s Arms
(Dinton Pastures)


Harry Potter

Lake Circlers

Bomber Posh Hashgate Premature Cerberus HitchHiker Caboose TurdTreader Potty Nutcracker Pete Massive Clem SlipperyNipple Pissquick Glittertits Motox SlowSucker Itsyor Fiddler Salome Lemming Mother Theresa BGB Andrée Spex LoudonTasteless Honeymonster Effin Florence Foghorn Cloggs NonStick Russell Handful DutchCap Cheating

Out to Pasture… Then Back In Again

The appearance of the long time missing SlowSucker (allegedly a calf injury) considerably brightened a very cold morning for me. “Oh joy! No frozen hand from carrying the recorder.” I thought, advancing towards him with a winning smile and my instrument in hand. “No, no dear boy.” He declaimed in best Noel Coward. “I fear I must decline the invitation… forever.” And he swept off, all pursed lips and silk dressing gown. So it appears BH3’s democratically elected Scribe has hung up his writing boots. Now I am quite happy to write the Gobsheets but I cannot bulk print the things so if a couple of you kind people would volunteer to do the printing I’m sure BH3 would be very grateful. Please contact me.

Figure 1 - Caboose attempts to read this Gobsheet

A short while ago I had commented on Caboose’s all too rapid advancement into dotage only to retract when I found the information passed to me had unintentionally tacked ten years on to his age. I think I’m going to have to revise my opinion after his behaviour before the start of this Hash. As Premature, Cerberus and I stood shivering in the car park Caboose appeared, carrying a bag. “Hi Caboose, old watermelon.” I called cheerfully. “Want to put your stuff in my car?” “Thanks, Hashgate.” He replied and scurried off. Now Caboose has put his stuff in my car many a time so I was a tad puzzled why, when I turned round, I saw him open the rear of Bomber’s currently empty blue BMW (mine’s a silver Bora) and carefully push his bag in between Bomber’s Primark gear and Posh’s Versace. He didn’t seem in the least put out when Premature and I laughingly pointed out the problem. Just wandered over to my car rather vacantly, pulled out his collapsible Zimmer frame/portable potty and chewed his gums on the way over to the Gather Round.

I must confess to missing Hare Baldrick’s speech at the Gather Round since Effin put me off by explaining how she had sewn fur on to the bra of her Christmas Party bellydancer outfit in order to keep her boobs warm. However, everyone who had heard the speech reckoned they couldn’t understand a word of it so I probably didn’t miss too much. Luckily, it was On Out to the familiar environs of Dinton Pastures lakes and public park in the company of Cerberus and Clem to start with and we quickly headed for a rather steep, narrow path covered in extremely slippery mud. I had the great luck to be directly behind Itsyor who was practising his comedy ‘almost sliding over in the mud’ routine quite hilariously. His right foot would slip rapidly inwards towards his left. “Whoa!” would burst from his lips as his arms windmilled furiously. Another metre or two and his left foot would shoot backwards bringing forth a startled “Hey!” as he sprinted forwards in a desperate attempt to regain his balance. By the time we reached the top of the hill everyone behind him was heavingly out of breath, not from the effort of running but from laughing like drains. Thanks Itsyor. It made the day.

After a long trek by the windblasted lake (even the ducks looked glum with the cold) we reached a Regroup where Itsyor told Fiddler, “That hill was a bit slippy.” Cheating moaned about something (difficult to believe I know). Spex informed me she was too busy washing up at the end of the New Year’s Party to indulge in rough sex in the car park. And Cerberus skipped behind a nearby tree for a New Year on-Hash pee. Amazing how steam rises on a cold day…

We set off again into scrubby grassland and promptly lost the trail completely. SlowSucker and I went down a path with no flour. Cerberus and Caboose trotted uselessly in the field next to us. After some time we began to lose the will to live and several Hashers were seen slinging nooses over tree branches. However, a couple of miles away in the opposite direction… It was a long way back. In fact this all worked very well for we caught up with the rear of the main pack. Obviously, Baldrick’s cunning plan had worked very well. I took the opportunity for a breather and chatted with Harry Potter who imparted the fascinating information (and I’m sure he won’t mind me sharing this with you) that his little boy’s favourite toy is a cheesegrater! I believe the family hamster (Hammy Potter) has applied to become an asylum seek citing severe fur loss and a badly grazed scrotum.

BGB and Motox hove into view, walking amazingly. No, they weren’t walking amazingly à la Ministry of Silly Walks. It was just surprising that two young, keen-edged athletes such as they were not in their usual sprint mode. SlipperyNipple and Mother Theresa also hove into view, walking. And Cheating and Lemming. This was not surprising at all. Slowsucker and I were both stupid enough to check and do the loop that led away from the rather obvious re-entry to the lakeside path but on the way back it did give me a chance to lead Effin, Mother Theresa etc (who were heading the wrong way) via a brambly shortcut back to the trail. A long slog round the lake finally got us back to near the entrance of the park where a small crowd of Hashers had gathered round some scatterings of flour in a vain attempt to decipher the markings. SlowSucker thought they might be hieroglyphics. I suggested Hittite cuneiform. Cyrillic was mentioned. It could have been an overweight duck with a (now resolved) bowel problem for all we knew. Eventually, we figured out the Long trail marker and headed off on the long trek towards the marina where the rigging of the sailing boats slapped against their masts like wind chimes. Flour was extremely scarce by now and, purely by luck, we headed out over the golf course where NonStick lived up to his name by cornering too fast on some wet railway sleepers spread over a ditch to crash into the neatly combed, lush sward at the feet of a surprised golfer. Luckily, he didn’t headbutt the fellow in the niblicks and continued on his way unscathed. The golf course proved to be completely unmarked by flour much to Motox and Florence’s chagrin. I just followed Cerberus and Caboose who were following others. Fortunately, we were just a shortish step away from the pub and gratefully entered the warmth of the pub (counterpointed nicely by the frosty landlady) out of the biting cold. It may have been a cold morning but we soon warmed up on the long run. Thanks Baldrick and Harry.

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

Just before the Down Downs another fascinating snippet of information was presented to DutchCap and me by SlowSucker who (whilst showing us his wrist-based heart monitor) informed us he also had a strapon. We decided to pursue the subject no further. And since it was so cold Mother Theresa (ever the lady) informed the shivering throng loudly that, “If I had knackers they’d be frozen”. Lemming, of course, could equally have been speaking at this point. RA Glittertits presented the following :-



Style points

Lemming, Cloggs


Motox bore the brunt of the beer abuse

Bomber, Harry Potter

Not shaving for the Hash

Bomber gave up on the horrible beer


Stating the barrel was empty at the New Year’s Party – when it wasn’t

A good effort considering the age of the beer from the very barrel


Placing flour arrows with no further flour blobs

Good leaning forward effort with some spillage

Baldrick, Harry Potter

The Hares

Baldrick chucked it over Motox, Harry over poor Glittertits

Up and Coming

Run Number


Grid Reference






The Shepherds Hut, Eton Wick
(Park in nearby car park or on the road. No food available)





The Hop Leaf
Southampton Street, Reading

Miss Whiplash