Good Eggs

Caboose Iceman Donut Hashgate Cerberus Billy Bullshit Shitfor Desperate Baldrick Spot Hitchhiker Foghorn Dragon Lady Flash Rainbow Warrior Diver NappyRash PP and dog Barney Harry Potter Gnomealone Chopstix Shandyman Shitshoveller Slowsucker Swallow TT2 Whinge TC Ladybird Jenks and dog Dylan C5 Dumper Septic Mrs Blobby OldDog Darryl Motox Anorka Trainspotter Glittertits Poca TomTom Compass Max Gatecrasher OldDog Messenger Boy Twanky Blowjob Florence Zebedee Cheating Pure Fantasy Lonely CS Gas Dipstick Fiddler

The Bun Run

A nice pair of buns greeted us as we pulled in towards the pub. It was Posh, turned slightly away from us, and Bomber, a little further down at Goring station, wearing blue and white furry bunny ears in honour of our end of Easter weekend run. Despite Bomber’s assertion that they had been out over the Trail four times during the weekend they were neither hot nor cross but helped point out our free parking places with grace and humour. It was good to see Jenks and his (now fully grown) Bedlington terrier, Dylan who was as friendly as ever. Quite a number of the Oxford Hash had joined us, including Gnomealone who pointed out to me as Posh bounced down the road towards us that, “They seem to be flopping up and down quite a bit.” Since the lady in question is as pert and firm as a a young rabbit (i.e. ‘bunny’, though it can be called a ‘rack’ but we’re not going to go there) I assumed he meant her ears.

This was our first evening Hash this year and the elements had been very kind to us. A blue sky stretched above, no breeze, perfect for a Hash. Which was just as well since twilight was in about an hour so we needed to get a move on. Knowing this area we figured we would be going uphill for a while and Bomber confirmed this at the Circle when he gave us detailed instructions and directions. “The first half or so is up. The second half is down.” Very helpful. Though he also told us that a number of chocolate eggs had been secreted at the Regroup which put a spring in the step of the the more confectionally obsessive among us.

Starting off uphill is a bit like starting an old car on a cold day. Lots of coughing as one desperately tries to get the engine to fire. Bit of gasping. More choke and a couple of backfires(!) before a stuttering, jumping, juddering, creaking into first gear. Maybe that’s why Baldrick shot off into the station instead of following everyone else – a quick decoke and away. He seemed to catch up quite quickly in that first big, rising field that had the Trail going all round it. Not that everyone went all round it. Those who figured it out, or waited for others to do so, went straight up the edge, cutting off a very large chunk of green and daisies. It was just after this, on that damn great chalk hill that we usually run down (Hares please note) that I found out that Gaffertits had been renamed Poca. Short for Pocahontas, because she ran round a previous Trail with feathers in her hair.

Now I would love to report on the many and humorous events that occurred during the Trail but we were running so fast or so exhaustedly up hills that there really weren’t any. Our main concern was to suck in every last possible molecule of oxygen and transform it into energy, and get back before it got dark. The Hares suckered us a couple of times with some nicely marked Checks that had most of the FRBs and the Pack heaving off in the wrong direction. The best was at the top of the hills where a short ‘F’ to the right of the Check stopped everyone from going to the downhill track. What the FRBs hadn’t realised was that the Trail went forwards for a bit before hairpinning back – past the ‘F’ and on to the downhill track. The slower and more sensible skipped lightly across the ‘F’, congratulating themselves on their intelligence and letting the mildly cursing Zebedee and Slowsucker past. It was a fast, long, stony, narrow, windy track and Poca and I found ourselves behind her father, Glittertits, who we roundly abused. “Oo look. It’s my dad and he’s running.” Quipped Poca, not remembering that he is actually the RA even though we haven’t seen him for quite some time. Oh well, at least we got a free drink – see Down Downs. Way down the track was the Regroup and several people were seen standing around with chocolate dripping off their chin and a glazed expression on their faces. Bit like Dracula after a particularly succulent virgin.

From the Regroup we had a choice. Either the Short Trail, straight down the track to the pub (1 mile according to Bomber) or the Long trail, straight up a steep hill (and 1½ miles according to Bomber. Hmm. Think his geographical distance awareness may need a little buffing up.) Those who braved the hill were in for a treat. Way off in the distance the sun sank like a huge red flare and in front of us the pewter glint of the Thames wound between the trees and under the fine old brick railway bridge. It was actually worthwhile running up all those hills previously just to be here. We swooped down and began pelting along the river side, only slowing to view Barney who had picked just the right spot for a dip in the water. He loves it doesn’t he? Apart from a brief stop to chat to Caboose and Lonely who were eyeing the railway bridge in a professional manner, talking about how it was widened and the gauge of the railway – which Cheating a little earlier had stated incorrectly and been rounded on by several loco blokes – it was a fast twilight trot back into tarmac and huge houses with Caboose, PP and Barney before nipping over the bridge at the railway station and meeting Posh, with a basket of delicious little chocolate eggs. Tasty or what?

A perfect length, very enjoyable Trail for the night. Thanks hares.

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Glittertits presented the following :-

Woofed it down

Up and Coming