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The Dew Drop Inn
Ashley Hill


Vlad, Drac

At the moment, my recording machine is issuing a sound like a cat having a Yorkshire pudding forcibly stuffed up its bottom. This will be due to the severe drenching it received during the Hash when it rained so hard I was expecting the Ark bearing good Captain Noah with his feathered and furry crew to come heaving and bobbing over the horizon any minute. So this one’s entirely from memory. Apologies if I miss anyone’s name out – like the mass of newbies who turned up.

Very Wet People and Dogs

Honeymonster Hashgate Paula Sue and friend Barry and dog Fido Tim and dog Bandit Legover and dog Megan Iceman TinOpener OldDog Motox Dutch Jackie J and dog Alfie Ms Whiplash Salome BlouseBlazer Sh*tShoveller Twanky Bl*wJobPotty Nutcracker Hitchiker Lonely Bootsie Anorak TrainSpotter Cloggs Nonstick Nick Jasmin Mike Diane Steve Jackie and dog Kieran

Hash, Splash and Dash!

The weather started off ok, with some fine autumn sunshine to warm the old bones that creaked out of their cars and crackled towards the Circle. Old age seemed to have caught up with one of our Hares as he was explaining the signs laid out on the trail. “Apart from the usual signs we also have an FC.” He explained, carefully drizzling flour on to the ground to form the ‘F’ and following that with a perfect ‘O’ before hurriedly rubbing out a section of it with his foot. Quite what was on his mind as he drew that I don’t know but it raised reactions ranging from a throaty chuckle to a hearty guffaw. Still, it was the lads’ very first attempt at laying a trail so we weren’t too hard on them. And later, at the Regroup, Vlad mistakenly called his brother Hare by his own name. Since there was a vampire theme between the two of them they kindly handed out candy vampire teeth to one and all – presumably for those with a sweet tooth – which I must say were possibly the most disgusting taste I have ever come across. Rather like sugar mixed with the stuff you swill round your mouth at the dentist’s, laced with a soupçon of bathroom sealant. I remarked to Tw*nky that it was the worst thing I had ever had in my mouth. He replied it wasn’t the worst thing he had ever had in his and I stopped him there before he elaborated any further, turning to talk to the not-seen-for-a-long-time Legover (aka Jane) and her fine little (Lakeland terrier?) dog Megan, who was whimpering and straining with excitement. Rather like BlouseBlazer, our own lugubrious taut-as-a-wound-clock-spring, can’t-stand-still-for-a-minute, no-time-like-the-present, what-are-we-waiting-for GM. Who got to hold Megan on her lead while Legover slipped off for a comfort break. He looked very twee indeed. A limp wrist, some lippy and a pair of cowboy chaps would have set him off perfectly.

We On Outed downhill as it happened. Though this didn’t last for long and I found myself scurrying along a narrow track between a pair of pants. The pants were coming from Barry’s dog Alfie to the rear and J’s dog Alfie to the front, who was doing his very best to drag his mistress under a wire fence by the lead that was attached firmly to her wrist. Sadly, he failed to do so and both he, Barry and I looked rather crestfallen at J’s inability to amuse the thronging hordes. Mind you, the wee Fido did his very best to make up for this by running between everybody’s feet when we were at full tilt, leaning against the rain and unable to see. It certainly taught you whether your peripheral vision and reflexes were up to the job. Just to add to the fun some chap out for a walk with his Jack Russell looked up and let go of the little fellow as we hove into view and he (the dog that is) took full advantage of the moment to zip around our heels. What larks! Not to be outdone a reasonably rotund Muntjack deer suddenly bounded out of the forest in front of BlouseBlazer and me, almost forcing our good GM into a tree stump and instigating a trouser-filling situation. Luckily, he managed to avoid both catastrophes and followed me a very long way down to a Bar-7 (laid, I was told by Drac, for the likes of BillyBullsh*t and SlowSucker – though neither was running with us today). Sadly, I didn’t see the washed-out flour and carried on for another half-mile while he turned back, silently mouthing ‘On Back’. This may explain why he figures somewhat large in this Gobsheet. On the long way back Paula, Sue and their friend (sorry, just can’t remember your name – tell me next time) trotted along peacefully and chatting. Their laid-back running style ensures they are nearly always at the front; the FRBs get lost on the Falses and the Pack reverses but the girls are always there. Lonely was there too and he and I got well and truly suckered off the trail and into an overgrown quarry. Quite why we entered this forlorn and flourless arena I have little idea but we enjoyed its tranquility and pondered inwardly on the triumph of eternal nature over man’s ephemeral works. No doubt Motox would have pondered the same had he been daft enough to stride into the thing. But no, he marched unstoppably on, scattering saplings and small animals like a great bull elephant and appearing regularly at the front of the Pack while some of us struggled to catch up. The Regroup appeared and Ms Whiplash stood there already with several walkers, all wondering why we had taken so blasted long to get there. Vlad, or was it Drac (they certainly didn’t know!) informed us that there was a Long and Short trail from here and the Long was only about 4 miles. 4 Miles! F’flip’ssake! Iceman, knowing the area well, figured he’d get on with it and nipped off through the forest, closely followed by TrainSpotter and me. I must mention that TrainSpotter and Anorak had recently returned from running across Cornwall, carrying their worldly possessions, for some reason and were a tad sore of leg. This did not stop either of them skipping about like spring lambs who had snorted illegal substances and made the rest of us mightily sick at this wanton display of fitness.


Scurrilous Scandals

The word is out that Mr Blobby, Chief Organizer of the Clarendon Way posse of runners backed out at the last moment leaving Simple in the poo and tasked with horrendous logistics problems. What was the offer Mr Blobby couldn’t refuse? What did a camel, two goldfish and a suite at the Grand Hotel, Bakewell have to do with it? The People’s Gobsheet demands to know.

ow I mentioned the rain earlier. It did indeed rain like an entire reservoir had been emptied upon us. It nearly got us in the forest on that long downhill track cruise, then started in earnest as Bl*wjob and I stupidly ventured half way out into a vast field to check out a Field Check. Within seconds we were both as wet as freshly caught mackerel, flopping about and gasping among the lancing rain before giving up and running (kind of) back to the minor shelter of the forest and a soaking Tw*nky who announced that if there had been a wet T-shirt competition he would have won it. (Hang on – I need to shudder at the mammary memory. Ahh. That’s better.) Can’t actually dispute that though it would certainly be an event I would not wish to watch. It was the intrepid Iceman who found the single blob on a telegraph pole and led us into possibly even wetter woodland. Where did we go? Right up that bloody great hill as expected, picking up Sh*tShoveller on the way who had arrived late and was running the trail backwards before he spotted us. Of course, what goes up (however circuitously) must come down and our dripping group of Hashers and dogs eventually splashed our muddy way into the car park and a very welcome pint. Thanks to the Dracula duo for a splendid trail and well done indeed for organising all that rain!

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

Today’s RA Motox presented the following :-



Style points


Taking a torch on the trail.
Whinging about the delay in her shopping trip to Marlow.

Really rather good by both. Particularly since OldDog is used to drinking out of a bowl.


The only virgin left (with no drawers on, she told us!)

Fine commando style

Paula, Sue and friend


Not bad for Handy Cross Runners


Wearing Wally’s socks!

Fine pint by the GM

Motox, Potty

Cowering in the bushes/offering to check Jackie’s underwear

Nice one blokes

Vlad, Drac

The Hares

Up and Coming



Grid Reference






The Wheatsheaf, Chilton Foliat
(Joint with N. Wilts)

TinOpener, Lilo
Wally (N. Wilts version)




The Leather Bottle