Pupils At the School of Trail Laying

Jan Wendy Donut Hashgate Trembler Foghorn Honeymonster and dog Max Iceman Ian(aka Pillock) Marcel Tessa HitchHiker Spot Dutch Dumper Septic Glittertits PissQuick Motox C5 Spex LoudonTasteless Posh Bomber Cloggs NonStick SlackBladder OldDog Hamlet Fukawe Ian Itsyor Fiddler Yankit WetConnection Florence

Bu**ered If I Can Think of a Title!

ShutupWally several times offered me a fiver to send him this Gobsheet so that he could edit it prior to printing/web publishing to ensure his trail got a good write-up. I, of course, refused his shifty, corrupt, underhand, palm-greasing offer (not enough money) since, although he can be more of a pain in the bum than getting one’s piles caught in the spokes of one’s bike while hurtling down a steep hill, I shall treat this Hash the same as any other. Particularly since TA was the other Hare and he knows what he is doing.

While chatting to Dutch (just so you know, she’d like to doff the ‘Cap’ part of her sobriquet, ok?) in the car park we observed Motox squatting down by the side of Glittertits’ mighty 4x4 with his arms raised parallel to the ground. We sniggered like schoolkids and gave him plenty of stick, pointing out that the toilets were inside the pub. Motox displayed the equanimity of a Buddhist monk and I found out later that he had been performing a particularly effective lower back and general body stretch.1 - 0 Motox. Ask him about it. Give it a try. And don’t take the mick…

We were joined today by two Ians (one of whom used to run with BH³ ten years ago), Marcel, Tessa and two of Donut’s friends (yes, she does have some) Jan and Wendy who were that knackered after the Hash that they moaned about the steepness of the step going into the bar! However, they started well as we rushed off to the heathland, our confidence growing since ShutupWally was a) telling us the way and b) running at the front of the pack. This seemed to work very well since we a) got rather lost and b) initially stayed together in a serried bunch. The FRBs kept finding themselves behind Spex and Honeymonster with Max. Incidentally, I had chatted earlier with Honeymonster and told him I was surprised to learn of the friendly hound’s youthful age. I had thought his worried expression denoted a long, hard life. Honeymonster explained, “He’s Mafia’s dog. Need I say more.” Indeed not.

We eventually got going on the largely sandy heath and Spot and NonStick were right up at the front (not a pleasant sight) followed by Hamlet and Itsyor. A check with a couple of Falses and a bar (!) in ankle-deep water and shiggy – thanks Hares – broke us up and allowed the Pack to catch up. Fiddler, Ian (Plonker) and I eventually reached the foot of a track going up a hill.Fiddler went off right, Ian left and I straight on up to find a ‘W’. Now ‘W’ usually indicates the walker’s trail so I called out to the following Glittertits and we tooled back down. To meet up with Fiddler, Ian and the Pack. Hmm. Fiddler informed me he had gone “half a mile with no flour” and, knowing a young lads’ penchant for exaggerating I grinned. He grinned back, understanding perfectly. Eventually, Wally and TA turned up, led us over the ‘W’ and to the Regroup a little further on. “If only I had run that extra half mile.” I teased Fiddler. He grinned yet again.

A fair old dollop of running puntuated at a two-way check by C5 and NonStick’s conversation comparing hernias (mine was bigger than yours etc.) finally brought us unexpectedly into Sheikh Mohammed’s country estate where almost everyone short-cutted across the well-combed sward and only Bomber, Yankit and myself were priviliged to see firstly the bar check and secondly the look of surprise on the face of the yellow jacketed security guard at the gate who suddenly realised that the running, shouting nutters were already on the inside! To be fair, Florence did come half way to the bar but shot off after the Pack like her a*se was on fire as soon as we stopped. We did a similar impression, finally catching up with Motox and the other Ian before diving into the wood and meeting Fukawe who was leading the Pack back towards us from a False up a low, dark tunnel of bushes. Excellent! We were at the front again! Of course this means we had to run fairly hard and we hurtled through gorse and scrub in the middle of which I found Wally discussing compasses with a family who had been unfortunate enough to meet up with him. I say ‘discussing’. After half an hour the two kids had run off screaming, the mother was rocking backwards and forwards on a tree stump babbling crazily and the father was trying to drown himself in a nearby stream…

At the top of a hill I found OldDog checking it out. Curious, I thought. Never been known before. Some different drugs to usual perhaps? Overdoing it a tad on the HRT (Hash Running Training of course!). Whatever it was she bumbled off the wrong way down the hill while Itsyor, Fiddler and I headed towards the maniac Model Plane Flyers and Decapitation Club based on yonder hill. Ducking and sidestepping amidst the swooping aeroplanes Itsyor smirked confidently he was now certain of the way since, “It can only go along the ridge. I’ve laid trails here before.” I left him to find the False and shot off in the opposite direction, closely followed by Iceman, Glittertits and Fiddler. Of course, every success is tempered by abject failure and so it was I found my self alone and palely loitering in a wood, by a stile. But not for long. I was joined by a lovely little Jack Russell puppy who insisted on rolling on her back in front of me and licking bits of me with her soft pink tongue. I’ve often wished that certain lady Hashers would do this. Perhaps one day… I had a pleasant chat with her friendly owners until Itsyor turned up, lost again. We led each other gently back to the sound of baying Hashers, Donut, Jan and Wendy who were puzzling over a check that had been kicked out in three directions, Spot running like a lunatic despite his 15 miler the day before and Marcel reinforcing his virgin status by doing some stretches in the pub car park.

Talking of the pub car park, we were a tad miffed when the landlord told us to to put our cars elsewhere prior to the Hash. As Glittertits said, only in this country do small businesses relying on customers’ goodwill treat people like this. Apart from the trade we provided on the day (at £2.50 a pint!) there were damn all other customers there. Can’t say I’m surprised. Posh had the best idea; instead of swilling beer like the rest of the common rabble she sipped hot tea daintily from a silver flask. Wow, that woman has cachet!

To sum up the trail, it was well laid and took us through varied and interesting country. The pack largely stayed together and reversed a number of times, keeping the virgins in touch with events and allowing us to have a chat and a laugh with each other. TA obviously curbed ShutupWally’s wilder notions resulting in a fine morning’s Hashing. But don’t tell Wally. We’ll never hear the last of it…

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA for the day, Dumper, presented the following :-

He hasn’t lost his touch

Up and Coming