The Quick and The Late

Septic Dumper Slowsucker Pissquick Glittertits Su (now renamed Gaffertits) BlouseBlazer Jenks Catherine Alastair and dog Dylan Nappyrash PP Diver and dog Barney Itsyor Fiddler Heybabe CIAC Caboose Ms Whiplash Salome Nick Motox Foghorn Loudontasteless Spex Katy PoisonIvy Iceman OldFart Cloggs Nonstick Zebedee TT3 Florence Dunny Fannybag Bogbrush and dog Pebbles C5 Shitfor JustMoist Desperate Twanky Handful Baldrick Squirrel Sarah Karen Martin Andrew
… and finally Donut Hashgate

Oops, Missed It!

Well, erm, where shall I start? “At the beginning, you fool!” I hear you reply wit the speed of electricity. Actually, we didn’t start at the beginning. Donut and I, having foolishly failed to put our clocks forward the night before (we are on BSE, rather than BST) arrived and parked with what we thought was five minutes to spare. While we struggled to thrust our feet into the solid, last-week’s-mud-encrusted objects that pass vaguely as running shoes a car drew up beside us. It was Trainspotter, on his way to the Beer Stop, drinking a cup of tea. He leaned towards us. “Did you forget to…” And just as he said that we realised, in a heart-thudding moment, how daft we had been. However, Trainspotter very kindly drove us to the Beer Stop. On the way we met JustMoist, Ms Whiplash, Salome… and Dumper. They all found it chortlingly amusing that we had arrived so late. None more perhaps than Dumper, who positively beamed in the car window. I found out why, later. C5 told me that he had arranged with Dumper and Septic that they would pick him up a little after 10 o’clock. He called them at 10:20, finding they were still in bed enjoying some morning toast (always a problem though, when the crumbs drop down your pvc codpiece, eh Dumper?) and tea. One can only imagine the consternation as C5 told them the clocks had gone forward. Dumper told me they were out of the house in five minutes flat and arrived at the Hash before 11:00 o’clock. Though he looked a little flushed. At least they could blame it on jet lag, having only arrived back from Interhash a short while before.

So we not only started at the Beer Stop, where we bumped into an amused Slowsucker, but ran the Trail backwards for a couple of hundred yards or so before turning round and coming back. Oh well, as Nappyrash said, it balanced last week’s marathon Trail. Anyway, it was very nice at the Beer Stop – lovely Spring sunshine, a glorious view across the rolling countryside and a large herd of smelly piggies above us on the hill, fortunately out of nasal reach. Heybabe came out with some interesting information as we toiled up the slippery hill with Caboose towards the pink creatures. “If you want to get rid of a body,” she intoned conspiratorially, “chuck it in with the pigs.” She touched the side of her nose and winked. “Trust me. There’ll be nothing left.” Absolutely amazing what you learn about people during the Hash isn’t it?

But it was a lovely day and we rounded it off with some beer and a barbequed sausage in a roll in Anorak and Trainspotter’s rather nice garden, checking out the occasional train as it sped smoothly by on the embankment and watching the red kites wheel and turn effortlessly against the blue sky.

The event was really to celebrate the fact that Trainspotter has now racked up half a century on this planet. In conjunction with the surprise party that Anorak threw for him on Friday night which was an exceptionally enjoyable bash attended by just about anyone who has ever run with either BH³ or Reading Roadrunners, with a few Ceroccers thrown in for good measure.

So there you have it, my total knowledge of Sunday’s Hash. i.e. buggerall.

The one thing that stood out for me was Spot, who was selling his wares in the garden after the Hash. I had better explain for our overseas readers that Spot is our (best ever) Haberdash and is highly successful at selling the T-shirts he designs. To assist his sales he has cleverly fashioned a travelling wardrobe out of a Dell (appropriately enough!) pc box that lies on its end, the open flaps acting as doors, which are held closed during travelling by neat string ties. Inside, he has glued together a remarkably effective set of shelving and little pigeon holes wherein lie the articles of this trade. i.e. BH³ T-shirts and running vests. “Large size sir? Certainly” And Spot reaches swiftly and precisely into the cardboard cabinet while smiling at the prospective client before whipping out clothing of the perfect size. “Just feel the quality on that, squire.” He fenagles. “Don’t get interlock weavin’ like that unless you pays a fortune these days.” He carries on. “Gaultier normally knocks ‘em out for a pony. But, see, I like yer face. Fer yew guv’na. Not a pony. Not twenny. Nah, not even fifteen smackers. Ar’ll lechew ‘ave wun o’ these li’l dahlins fer just…” He whispers a figure in the punter’s ear, nods and raises his eyebrows just like Del Boy. The punter is a rabbit in the headlights. One hand is already reaching into his pocket as Spot presses the T-shirt into the other.

Many thanks to today’s Hares and especially to Anorak and Trainspotter for their generous hospitality. Also to Sarah and Karen for some nifty sausage cooking on the BBQ. Many happy returns, Trainspotter, from all of us in BH³.

I can only hope that I manage to wake on time next week. However, the venue is just a couple of miles up the road from me. Reckon a 10:55 leaving time ought to do it with minutes to spare ;-)

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

Today’s RA The Right Reverend Jenks, resplendant in dog collar, presented the following :-

Really fine effort bearing in mind that Jenks doused her with water first.

Some leakage by the shoes but an excellent quaffing action by our Scottish webmeister.

Up and Coming