Dry Pack

Florence ScarletPimpernel Spot Hitchiker Hashgate Honeymonster C5 Foghorn Ms Whiplash Salome Motox Flash Simple DunnyStumbler P*ssQuick Glittert*ts Baldrick Centaur SlowSucker Dwight Julia SlowSucker Dave Sue Colin OldDog Septic Ladybird Buttercup BlouseBlazer SlipperyNi*ples Bomber Posh Donkey ToyBoy Cheating PearlandDean

Baldrick II

Baldrick (bawl’ drik) v. To sustain personal injury following reckless action at speed.

Precisely what Simple managed to do during Foghorn’s Bash on Saturday. Hurtling downhill on a mountain bike at 40 mph towards a pit full of sludge has a certain inevitability about it which, unfortunately, Simple experienced when he found himself performing a handstand on his suddenly stopped-dead machine prior to re-learning all those long-forgotten physics lessons about inertia as he broke his collarbone. Ouch! And he had to walk a mile or so with his appendage hanging limply from his body (no change there, then) to get some medical attention. Thank goodness he was wearing his crash helmet so didn’t suffer a more serious injury. BH³ wishes you well Simple, and very soon.

Water, Water Everywhere…

So there was Simple, one-armed and wearing sunglasses, still slightly high on yesterday’s hospital drugs wandering about the car park one way; and Flash, wandering about vacantly the other way wearing a pair of shorts that were surely vintage 1940s. The legs came down to his knees while the waistband had reached the high tide mark just South of his chest. They were certainly roomy. Plenty of space for Flash, a phalanx of ferrets and several East European asylum seekers – should they be so desperate. Salome, too, had opted for comedy trousers that flapped uncertainly at mid-calf level and were spattered fashionably with dabs of paint. Prada meets Dulux.

Due to the location there were also Hashers from Oxford, R2D2 and of course N. Wilts so we had quite a gathering as we On Outed following Tin Opener’s interminable, yet surprisingly lucid, oration. The other surprising thing was that ShutupWally, a co-Hare, kept quiet during his ramblings. We thanked our lucky stars and walked off – no point in running; there were two or three Regroups! The free-running early leaders were Spot, Dwight, Colin, Dunny and a couple of N. Wilts blokes whose names I confess I do not know. These same free-running leaders were a tad miffed when a Bar appeared at the top of a rather testing hill and they had to stream (this is a sort of weak, early pun; read below for why) cross-country to try and catch up with the main Pack that had hurtled pell-mell past them and were clogging a narrow track through the woods like a particularly lumpy section of cholesterol-induced fat in an artery; the FRBs thus taking the part of the red blood cells vainly trying to squeeze past the bolckage… you have the idea? Jolly good. Which accounts, no doubt, for the red-faced wheezing that emanated from the thronging hordes. Having finally overtaken the thronging etc. and then run even harder to try and get to the front the FRBs were even more miffed to find their breathless rush had merely brought them to the first of the Regroups. This is probably why, when we started again, everyone followed Florence into the dusky woods and walked round it chatting happily despite the complete absence of flour. Posh told me all about how wet through she had got during a downpour of rain. Glittert*ts exchanged pleasantries. It was a fine old ramble until we realised we should have gone the same way as the Short Trailers and had to ‘put the peddle to the meddle’ to try and catch up. On the way we passed OldDog who was staring longingly at a fine, muddy puddle. You know how these doggies like a bit of splash and trickle. Bit like Lilo’s dog, Emma, later who hurled her pristine white self into the canal and enjoyed a lovely swim. Unfortunately, Lilo had already let go of the lead when she dove…

I learned something during this Hash. We had to run across a recently planted field so, being responsible people, we filed across one behind the other to minimise damage. The R2D2 chap (PearlandDean) I was running with (who works in the agricultural industry) told me that, since the planted crop was currently grass-like and low to the ground, the compacting action of our footfalls actually encourages growth and is beneficial to it. So the next time a ruddy-faced farmer waves a shotgun at you and shouts, “Git orf moi laarnd!” You can respond with, “Now see here my fine rubicund fellow. I’ll have you know…” etc. etc.

Now I mentioned a canal a little earlier. There were, in fact, several canals, streams, water features, rivulets, ox-bow lakes, glacial meltwater, tarns, corries and lochs. Not one (apart from the canals maybe) would have come up higher than the area between the calf and the hand-knitted edge of Flash’s shorts. Did we go through any of them? Did we boll… No we didn’t. For some reason the Hares had entirely forgotten or deliberately decided against placing a Bar on any of the low bridges that spanned these lazy brooks. Apart from ToyBoy, who deliberately went off trail and into water, the rest of us kept nice dry tootsies and whinged about the lack of bridge Bars. I suppose we could have run through the streams. But, ahem, we didn’t feel it would be right not to follow the trail ;-)

Of course, this area is excellent for stunning views although you do have to work for them. ScarletPimpernel, Foghorn, Posh and Florence toiled up the massive hill towards the skyline, poor Florence (marathon woman extrordinaire) squeaking wanly, “Does it flatten out at the top?”. It did a bit so we took a chest-heaving breather and viewed the extended panorama of hills, dales and untouched water features beyond and below us. Very nice it was too. And the trail led down the other side of the hill to give us a rest before some of us reached that Check by the stocks before running all the way up that tarmac hill where no flour had ever sullied its grey surface. Still, the way back down led past pleasant fields and a couple of fine houses and we knew that by turning right we would end up at the pub. So we did and I enjoyed a trot in with Florence, though this was somewhat spoiled, as we neared the pub, by the sight of Ladybird’s untrousered, hairy bottom which he waved at us in his own form of greeting. Brrr! Makes me shiver to think about it. Thanks to the Hares for a pleasant, if an unseemly dry, trail.

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

Foghorn and Rowenta from N. Wilts presented the following :-

Two nancy halves fairly easily despatched. Should have been water!

Motox couldn’t resist the lure of organising a Grand Conker championship between BH³ and N. Wilts. I am pleased to say that, as BH³ male champion I managed to smash the N. Wilts challenger’s conker into a million fragments. Great was the BH³ rejoicing and the N.Wilts gnashing of teeth.

Up and Coming

Autumn Hash Walk

Saturday 28^th October at 14:25. Approximately 7½ miles. Meet at junction of Manor Road & High Street, Whitchurch. Gridref: 634773. Followed by pub for food and drink. See Motox for details.

Hash Skittles Evening

Saturday 11^th November at 19:30. At Civil Service Club, James Lane, Burghfield. Gridref: 676676. Cost £6 for skittles and food. To book a place see Motox.