Unforgettables

Once again the blasted recording machine has decided to wipe all my recollections of who was here and what happened so this one’s from memory. If I leave anyone’s name out, many apologies.

Hashgate (remembered that one!) Iceman Vlad Drac Blowjob Spot Foghorn Cheating Dave Ali Barry and dog Fido Ali ScarletPimpernel Motox Lonely P*ssQuick Glittert*ts OldDog SlackBl*dder Dutch FuzzyFlamingo WhiteFang Karen Eugene T*urdTreader Potty BlouseBlazer Quack HeadBoy Septic Sh*tShoveller OldF*rt Tony Amanda and dog Barney Honeymonster LoudonTasteless Spex Dumper Baldrick Sarah and much later Chopstix and Shandyman recovering from a night of binge drinking following his birthday. I hope that’s everyone.

A Seven Star Trail

A number of Hashers have been given Hash Handles because it suits them rather than for something they have done and, following this Hash, none suits anyone better than the perfectly named LoudonTasteless. Nothing had quite prepared Iceman, Vlad, Drac, OldFart and me for the optical explosion that was his footwear. Think Liberace crossed with Elton John. His feet were encased in brand new running shoes which glowed almost radioactively with a brain-scrambling mixture of electric blue and snow white. If ever there was a Hasher crying out for a Down Down he was it. He initially seemed oblivious of the effect despite people in front of him cringing back with gasps of terror and shielding their eyes from the glare. He raised an avuncular, quizzical eyebrow at our expressions of horror until we pointed out the reason and then seemed totally unfazed by his podiatric gaffe. Hats off to the fellow for having the bottle to appear on the Hash in clown’s shoes.

Vlad and Drac were also asking for trouble by sitting in their car engrossed with reading a small pamphlet on knitting. Urk! I hadn’t really got them down as exponents of the art. Perhaps we’ll see them in future wearing a natty homemade poncho or some crocheted running shorts. Mind you, on this cold morning a knitted woolly hat would have come in extremely handy for each of them given their comb(in)ed lack of hair. I must say I feel a bit sorry for them. They had to rush off early after the Hash to catch a plane to Paris to watch the England/France rugby match. A tinge of depression may have accompanied them on their return journey. Allez France!

Now the excellent field and wooded hills area around The Seven Stars is pretty well known to us, especially Iceman who has laid several trails hereabouts, and we were looking forward to nipping up into the woods via the usual Out trail to get out of the ‘refreshing’ breeze that was turning the hairs on any bare legs brittle with cold. But it was not to be. The Hares may have neglected to let the pub know we were coming but they had laid a fiendish trail that actually took us across the A4 into virtually uncharted territory bereft of almost any cover, allowing the searing wind to freeze the ears and nip like an ice terrier at any uncovered skin. Poor Bl*wjob’s hands swelled like blown-up pink rubber gloves and looked most unsavoury. At least the rest of her didn’t do the same. Well most of her… Vlad, for reasons best known to himself, decided to plunge headlong into the shiggy. Well, why not?

Lonely, Spot and OldF*rt took the early lead and OldF*rt must have been a tad miffed when we swung back over the A4 and crossed it ahead of the False he had returned from just after we first started out. Somehow Cheating had got to the head of the Pack and was trotting diagonally across the field towards the wood. Everyone realised it was him and decided not to follow, preferring to lose the trail completely on a narrow road and follow Spot and myself until called back. Though Spot, ever the rebel, carried on towards a gate, went through it and saved himself a fair old run across a slippery uphill slope. Well done that man. The rest of us hacked back and doglegged up the slope where a multi-way Check had delayed the early arrivers and confused even Iceman, who knew exactly where we were going but didn’t know how we were going to get there. The main problem was that we were running the usual trail in reverse. Very baffling of the Hares and just not cricket. But at least we were soon trampling through the shiggy-filled woods and out of the wind.

I found myself following Glittert*ts up an extremely slippery hill, enjoying his occasional unplanned sideways slide and explosive, “Whoa!”. It was two forward, one back and every now and again a foot would slip rapidly backwards and propel a gobbet of shiggy at whoever was behind. I think it was Baldrick, trying not to do one. Cheating came crashing out of the woods to our left like a moose on speed and hurtled across our path towards a track that led off diagonally to our right. This was a bit silly really because when we came back from the Bar at the top of the rise we actually went diagonally off left. Any new Hashers please note, never ever follow Cheating. Or be it on your own head!

How nice it was when we finally reached the house at the top of the hill. Apart from enjoying the sight of Spot and Vlad disappearing down a False and marvelling at Glittert*ts’ altruistic downhill gallop another sight gave us even greater pleasure. A quiet glade was filled with continents and islands of beautiful snowdrops. A sight like this is just one of the reasons why Hashing is so enjoyable and to enjoy the morning even more Dave, Headboy and I rushed headlong downhill to a long False before rushing (not quite so fast) back up it, then headlong down the right trail to try and catch up with the Pack who were well on their way to the Regroup. Amanda and Tony’s lovely old dog Barney might be 11 but he has as much energy as a nuclear power station and despite running all the way to this point he was desperate for a game of ‘fetch’ with a fair-sized stick. Quite why Amanda felt she had to throw the stick at the back of my leg while I interviewed people in my capacity as Scribe I don’t know but I was very grateful that Barney didn’t take a bite out of any part of me from the waist down and it provided quite a source of humour for the assembled throng. Shortly after this OldDog arrived so Amanda threw the stick so she and Barney could race for it. The result was almost a tie following OldDog’s disgraceful elbowing, shoulder-barging and tail grabbing but Barney just got there first. Interviewed later he agreed that he was, “Over the moon.” Adding with a sly wink, “There’s life in the OldDog yet.”

Things began to speed up as we set off from the Regroup and we zipped along a twisting trail through damp forest watching Drac having to leap a barbed wire fence to join the Pack that was running parallel to him. Sadly, the fence was too high for Barney, running along behind him, to jump and Tony had to go and retrieve the fellow then backtrack a way. Meanwhile, we were squeezing under a log into a small stream while Hare NonStick grinned nearby. A number of muddy bums were the result of this action, most notably Motox who Glittert*ts assured us had, shall we say, ‘had an accident’. It certainly looked like it. A brief Regroup close by got the Pack back together before we sped off uphill in a rustle of semi-dry leaf mould and deer poo after the bounding Lonely. He’s a lad isn’t he? Just flown in from Maui after a week’s snorkelling, grass skirt and coconut shells quality investigation and a bit of scientific conference on the side and he’s still got enough energy to come Hashing. I latched on to him and we hit that rather nice On Inn downhill track that leads down to the side of the pub. The one we should have gone On Out from! Please get it right next time Hares. Our thanks anyway. Most enjoyable trail and not too long for once.

By the way, 10 out of 10 to Dutch for sheer style. Having not really bothered to do the trail she turned up in the pub for a drink looking very athletic in a fetching tracksuit and sports shoes. A true Hasher if ever there was one! On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

SlackBladder kindly acted as RA today and presented the following :-

Damn fine effort out of one of them

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