Lions and Lambs

Ms Whiplash Twanky Bomber Posh Donut Hashgate Quack Messenger Boy Woodentop Dorothy Paul Blowjob Mr Blobby Mrs Blobby Dunny Rampant Rabbit Dumper Septic Motox Desperate Shitfor Swallow Slowsucker Simple Skids Rory Vanessa Colin Helen (renamed Pancake) Emily Lynne Iceman CabinBuoy Slackbladder Little Stiffy Billy Bullshit Honeymonster and dog Max NappyRash Cheating Nutty Potty Snowballs Spex LoudonTasteless Hitchhiker Spot SkinnyDipper Anna Lonely Caboose TT2Penelope Pitstop Utopia Itsyor OldFart Bogbrush with dog Pebbles Fannybag IronBalls Diver Slapper 2Bob

Hashy Birthdays

I really should really be mending my bed before writing this Gobsheet. This morning, I had just slid back into the thing, unfolded The Telegraph, raised a hot spoonful of milk and Alpen to my eager lips when I heard a ‘Graunch!’ and felt a sudden sinking feeling. The screws holding the side of my (old) pine bed to the bedhead had finally dragged free after years of solid support. But worry not, gentle reader, the Gobsheet will be written first.

Solid support was certainly what BH³ gave this Hash with loads of people and cars arriving early. We waved royally as we teased our way through the crowds and emulated TT2’s parking style by stopping miles down the road. The evening was clement and summery as we commenced the long trudge to the Circle. Our revered GM had rejoined us this evening after a (probably) well-deserved holiday in Turkey. No, not a turkey – that would be quite surreal. But quite an amusing mental picture. Last week’s new lady Rory had reappeared with virgin Vanessa – great to see fresh totty. Not, of course, that the current Hash totty isn’t fresh too. Erm. I’ll just stop there.

So we had two birthdays to celebrate tonight with this Hash. TC and Whinge who had generously and kindly organised the sausages, chips and beans served outside in the garden after the Hash which was thoroughly enjoyed by the masses who managed to chomp their way through a goodly portion of the Lincolnshire porcine population and potato harvest.

Donut and I were interested to see where the Trail lay since our Hash last week was very close by. We needn’t have worried for our experienced lady Hares had managed to keep away from it and provide a very pleasant sojourn through a variety of country and semi-urban paths. To add a little confusion the Trail had been laid with pink flour for the runners and blue flour for the walkers and much of it coincided. Whinge had laid the walker’s Trail and his generosity of spirit had resulted in a rash, almost a measles of blobs on the face of the countryside. If any walker got lost they could only have been colour-blind or remarkably unobservant. The pink flour was particularly liked by Twanky who wiggled with delight as every blob appeared, squealing, “On pink!” with girlish glee.

Our progress was, like last week, rapid. In some cases too rapid. The head of the Pack reached the edge of a corn field to see TT2 and Itsyor across the other side of it. TT2 to’d and fro’d aimlessly while Itsyor stood squinting against the sun, one hand in a shading salute above his eyes as he strove to see flour. A rudderless Hornblower adrift in a sea of corn. We found it easily and tripped lightly up the edge of the field, moving ever away from them. Interestingly, Desperate referred to his companion as TT4 which leads me to believe she is either numerically challenged, suffering from double vision or really should go and get that new blood test done to check for early senile decay.

Our Hares had laid a cunning Trail that was keeping the Pack together very well. Hats off to them. TC has recently had a chunk scraped out of her leg, Cerberus is suffering with cartilage problems, Whinge... well you’ve seen Whinge, haven’t you. And Heavy Petting had one hand strapped heavily. Presumably an RSI injury incurred by squeezing her flour bottle too hard. Skids ensured that the side of the Two-Way Check she had chosen to run down was indeed the wrong way and screams of pain/delight came from Slapper and CabinBuoy who were forcing their way through off-Trail brambles and stinging nettles just before we approached the Regroup. We wondered if Ms Whiplash hadn’t caught up with them. Cerberus should really be a schoolteacher. No sooner (it seemed) had we got to the Regroup and were enjoying the rest when she jollied us along to continue, citing the fact that we didn’t want to get cold standing around. We were, of course, quite happy to stand around but you don’t argue with Cerberus when she has that gleam in her eye and off we went, Long Trailers one way, Medium Trailers the opposite. 2Bob thought he’d stolen a march on the rest when he got way ahead on the Medium Trail. Not a chance, matey. As Billy and I got to a multiple Check in the forest he was stumping back forlornly from a Bar-6. Which delighted TC and Cerberus. And, it has to be admitted, Billy and me.

We got into some familiar forest (for Donut and me – we had laid a Trail here a little while ago) before tripping lightly up a slight hill next to some paddocks where two eminently sensible white donkeys laughed uproariously at us puffing up the slope. Heavy Petting was still keeping up manfully (difficult for a lady) with the front runners and laying helpful flour arrows. Mind you, it didn’t help Caboose in that last downhill forest run. He almost put off Fannybag and me when he suddenly turned off the path, insisting he’d seen a blob. But no. FB and I ignored him and trotted by. A short uphill tramp and we were back at the cars, ready for a pint and a sausage. What a combination!

Thanks to all the Hares. A great Trail, a great night and a lot shorter than the last time we ran from The Red Lion!

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Dumper presented the following :-

An honourable draw

Up and Coming