Stumblers

Twanky Potty Nutcracker Flash Spex LoudonTasteless Gusset Utopia Mrs Blobby Mr Blobby Iceman Hashgate Donut Swallow Baldrick Septic Dumper Florence Zebedee Motox BGB Pissquick Glittertits Gaffertits Ms Whiplash Quack Slackbladder Little Stiffy Lilo Tinopener and dog Emma Simple Katie Shitshoveller Dwight Soreskin Andrew Jake Lara Emma Jonathan Fannybag Bogbrush Itsyor Fiddler Olddog Penny Pitstop Fannysniffer Caboose Centaur Dribbler Butterfly Poison Ivy Lonely ShutupWally CabinBuoy OldFart Muff Sarah Leanne Cheating Rainbow Warrior

Nice Trip

Like old Gold Rush prospectors we rushed West (again) in search of gold. There were certainly scintillating flashes of it among the dross but a lot of us will remember with a shudder that long, long On Out on the canal towpath. This lengthy drag to get us to some decent Hashing country was enlivened only by the swing bridge that LoudonTasteless gleefully put his back to in order to open the canal to shipping but close it to the strung-out (in more ways than one) Hashers on the other side. Dwight and OldFart manfully hared off to the distant lock, crossed it, ran back down the other side – just as we closed the swing bridge once again, letting everyone cross.

The Hash was fast and strung out. Particularly after the Regroup in the sweaty forest when the Short Trailers got ahead of the Long Trailers and all the Checks were marked by the time the LTs got to them; thus ensuring that the LTs enjoyed(?) a non-stop, rapid-paced sprint all the way to the even sweatier end. So I only saw one incident and did not hear about any others. The incident under scrutiny involved the lissome Gaffertits (by the way, I would like it placed on record thatOldDog was also looking particularly lissome on the night too) immediately after the Regroup, on the Long Trail. Now a couple of weeks earlier her father, Glittertits, had twisted his ankle badly on the Hash and Gaffertits, obviously on the look-out for a spot of sympathy, decided to do the same. There was a loud ‘SNAP’ and down she went, like a bag of coke down a coal hole. Tough stuff this family. Not a tear was shed and her main concern was to thank us for staying with her. Though, of course, it was ghoulish interest rather than assistance that kept us there. “Do you think she’ll have to have it off?” Asked an interested party. “Probably later.” Came the reply. “But I think she’s in a bit of pain at the moment”. Mum Pissquick Mother Hen’d up, clucking and bustling, ruffling her feathers and scratching at the ground with one foot. Actually, she was remarkably sanguine considering her baby was lying on the ground racked in agony. Oh, all right, she was quietly and bravely waiting for the pain to subside. We figured out that she hadn’t actually broken anything and that the cracking noise was the wood she had stepped on that broke as she twisted her ankle. At which point the concerned mother grinned and jocularly pointed out that Gaffertits could have snapped her ankle like a Twigg (geddit? The family name’s Twigg. Oh, please yourselves.) Zebedee returned after catching up with and bringing back father Glittertits so Bogbrush and I followed the fleeting rear of Twanky as he hurled it along the Long trail, deeper into the woods. Actually, that’s quite something to admit and I’d rather not hobnail boot further along that broad path of risibility. I’m not sure quite how today’s picture came to be included in this news sheet and I can only say with exceptional certainty that it does not illustrate any other time when Gaffertits may have fallen over and that even if she had she absolutely would not be dead drunk and wearing only an eye patch. Absolutely not. Not ever. At all.

So there you have it. The evening’s incidents. The rest of it was a 7 mile (according to Dunny) yomp. Though certainly the foresty bit was very pleasant. Up hills and down dales a-plenty, with BGB putting in a sudden appearance like a woodland sprite in front of us. This bit was quite pleasant, especially after Bogbrush and I caught up with Hare RampantRabbit, who was very kindly marking the Trail exceedingly clearly for us. Bit of a shame when we overtook him really.

Suddenly we were on Greenham Common. And a bare, deserted place it was too. The only saving grace was the view in the distance of some rolling countryside. Otherwise the place was about as interesting as an attempt at a conversation with Wally. The sole thing of interest, Florence and I noted, was a bomb. A bomb! Yep. A big grey thing with fins laying discarded in the gorse by the side of the path. Though surreal and interesting we decided against closer investigation for two reasons:
1) possible explosion and loss of beer time in the pub 2) we were too knackered to go off at a tangent. The next bit was almost as bare, but in a different way. Although we were cruising downhill it was along a line of tarmac that separated two rows of indifferent houses. Baldrick and I shambled down it – also indifferently and, not realising there were a couple of teenage blokes covered in bling sitting in a bush, I let off a fearfully piercing, “On On!” The poor lads took it well, not leaping to their outsize DCs and giving us a well-deserved mugging and shoeing. I apologized and they gave me swift raise of the hand and a slight drawing back of the upper body. As in, “Ok grandad. We’ll let you off this time.”

We caught up with Dumper, Butterfly and Dribbler on a slightly narrow bit on the lead-in to Newbury Racecourse. Which was quite lucky as it enabled us to stop and have a chat. After all, it would have been rather rude to brush past without even raising one’s hat. After sliding past the lounging Hare Dunny and the sleek, trotting form of Septic we actually caught sight of Short Trailers Donut and Swallow on the other side of the railway station. But were far too knackered to run hard up and over the bridge to catch up. It was just a short lope through the wasteland of the business ‘park’ to the pub and a welcome pint. Even though the darn pub had run out of decent beer! How often does this happen? All too, I hear you reply.

Our thanks to the Hares who had to lay the Trail from a different pub to that which they had first selected. And although we did have that long, hard-running start along the canal the rest was really quite enjoyable with some excellent views.

At least next week we shan’t all be going West. It’s quite close to me :-) Though OldFart confided that he had so far done no Trail recce’ing and needed to contact the pub landlord to ensure he remembered that we were coming. No change there then.

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Simple presented the following :-

Enjoyed what he thoroughly deserved

Up and Coming