The Hashers

Lots of visitors from North Wilts H3, Foghorn, Call Girl, Nippon Tuck, Puppy, Twankey, Zebedee, Florence, Motox, BGB, C5, Mrs Blobby, Dumper, Septic, Uplift, Whinge, Gusset, Iceman, Lemming, Mother, Cheating, White Fang and sister, Ruth (see under ‘Down downs’), Mark, Shandy Man, Chopsticks, Spex, Loudon Tasteless, Simple, Dunney, Dutch, GT, PQ, Aqua, Anorak

Fairy Frolics

It was a very moving occasion, made even more so by Simple’s excellent idea of reading two poems and playing The Last Post on his laptop. Yes, BH3 did Remembrance Sunday proud. I suppose if I’m being picky I could say it was spoiled by half the crowd being dressed up like a bunch of …….well, fairies. But it didn’t detract from the solemnity of the occasion, so all was well.

Overlooking all this was Mr V Jones of Acacia Avenue, Eastbury. He saw, observed, turned to his dearly-beloved of nearly 40 years and said, Bloody poofters!’ Mrs Jones, being of a somewhat more tolerant disposition, replied, ‘They’re not poofters, dear, they’re fairies and what’s more, half of them are women. I think it’s lovely having a visitation from the other side – I hope they leave lots of fairy dust, for good luck.’

I wonder whether Mr or Mrs Jones saw Motox. As Mrs Dale (she of ‘Mrs Dale’s Diary’ – you’re too young to remember it? Nearly everyone is these days) might have said, ‘I’m worried about Motox.’ A couple of weeks ago he went to the wrong pub and then last Sunday he wore a Halloween mask to a fairy run. The poor old chap is getting confused and we should all keep an eye out for him in future. We wouldn’t, for example, want him forgetting to put his clothes on. Can you imagine a naked Motox gambolling through the woods and over the fields? It’s too horrible to contemplate.

On a more fairy note, there were some real poofters (sorry, fairies) on the run. Anorak appeared in a full length white dress, which looked as if it had been his wedding dress at some stage, whilst both Whinge and Twankey were sporting tights that could only have come from Billy Smart’s Fairy Circus. Several people commented on the sweetness of C5’s wings, whilst Zebedee appeared with a flimsy piece of Myrtle Cottage’s net curtain tied round his waist. Some of the harriets looked very fairyish, too, although it’s probably fair to say that both Aqua and , both of whom had really dressed the part, are a touch on the hippy side to pass as real fairies in a fairy look-a-like contest. However, good for them for being brave enough to try.

Mrs Jones got her wish, though, because there was plenty of fairy dust left on the ground as we wended our way out of the village and up the hill to the downs. It had stopped raining and the sun even tried to peek through, so it was all very pleasant. But wait; there was also lots of shiggy on the ground waiting to trip up the unwary. And so it came to pass that Whinge was the first to take a tumble, ripping his wonderfully coloured tights and his pale white skin into the bargain. There was blood everywhere but, like the fairy he is, he soldiered (or fairied) on.

Shiggy got everywhere – especially so in the vicinity of Lemming, Call Girl, Nippon Tuck, Foghorn and Shandy Man. They got up to their usual jolly japes and we did laugh as we all got mud stuffed down our necks, on our faces and in other parts of our anatomy one cannot mention in a family publication. However, there is no honour among thieves – or muddy fairies – and at the Fairy Cake stop Call Girl set upon Lemming with a vengeance. They embraced each other like dying fairies as they subsided horizontally into the mud bath that the hares had somewhat naively located right next to the cakes. However, they survived, so did the rest of – just – and on we went. I shall pause just long enough to compliment the hares on their delicious rock cakes, fairy cakes and beverages that made the stop such an uplifting experience.

But back to the hash: we left the stop and fairied our way across the fields, through some stray woodland that happened to get lost in other parts of Berkshire and ended up here, wending our way ever closer to our destination. More people fell over, more mud was negotiated and found its way into private parts, Dumper, who was only walking, did a Whinge and got the back of his lovely yellow coat filthy dirty and Cheating, White Fang and her sister strolled around the countryside like landed gentry surveying their estate. In fairness, Cheating was quite poorly (the poofter, sorry, fairy) and so he decided to look after this week’s segment of his harem by walking with them.

It was nice to see Nippon Tuck and Puppy back from the USA. Nippon Tuck looked very well on married life but I’m a touch worried that she might be acquiring that famous American (lack of) sense of humour. I was amazed when she didn’t laugh at one of my jokes, as you, dear reader will be too. It’s very concerning when one of our own gets sucked into the colonial way of behaving.

We eventually came to the long/short split, where the fairies went short and the real athletes went long. I had been persuaded to give my car key to Septic because the other occupants of my car all did the short. Huh! Who was back first and had to wait? Only one guess I’m afraid because you already know the answer. The moral of the story? ‘Never trust a short fairy.’

As we returned to the village, I saw Mr and Mrs Jones’ net curtain twitching (they still had enough net left to make it twitch, unlike Florence and Zebedee) and I saw Mrs Jones’ mouth turn up into a little smile, whilst Mr V Jones tightened his trouser belt another notch.

Well done Incider and Madam Butterfly – a good trail and an excellent fairy cake stop.

On On. C5.

Down Downs

It took the pain away – but not for the spectators

Up and Coming

Don’t forget to book early for the Christmas lunch on 18 December. It’s only £15 for a run, a five-course meal and lots of fabulous entertainment. See Motox for tickets – they’re going fast!!