Sun Seekers

Just Moist Carol Donut Hashgate Cerberus Billy Bullshit Dumper Septic Skinny Dipper Motox Simple Skids Caboose Whinge TC Potty Nutty The Tremblers Ms Whiplash Old Dog TinOpener Lilo and dog Minx Dunny Rampant Rabbit Iceman Nappyrash HP and dog Barney LoudonTasteless Spex Slackbladder Little Stiffy Emily (now known as Cupcake) Lynne Penny Pitstop

Spot The HitchHiker

Before I get started let us congratulate the Hashers who ran the Berlin Marathon so successfully and raised so much money for Cancer Research. The amount so far is a superb £1167.60. If you would like to contribute why not go to http://www.justgiving.com/Veronica-Benson and make a donation? Well done to all who ran and all who donated.

I must also thank Slowsucker for writing a fine, corruscating Gobsheet last week. Frankly, if I had run the distance he had on Cheating’s Trail I’d have been a mite tetchy too. Sadly, I had to miss it and keep an eye on Donut whose sneezes from a severe cold threatened to blow out a couple of windows and gave me several different hairstyles – much more effective than Harmony Hairspray or Style n’Go.

It seemed rather appropriate that Just Moist parked behind us as we pulled up in the pouring rain by the pub. The air was full of water. It ran down the road in rivulets and glistened as we splashed out on the Trail. It seemed odd that we were at a pub called The Sun. We hoped their beer wasn’t as cloudy as the weather.

HP had parked Barney on TC (crikey it’s all initials with these two, isn’t it?) since the old feller isn’t quite up to a full-on run these days. Rather like many of us in the Hash. However, Barney never stops wanting to go and pulled TC along at a fair pace as we slopped into the forest. He was rather put to shame by Minx, Lilo’s lively little black and white dog. She bustled up to the front of the Pack. Then bustled back again. Every now and then one would be shouldered aside at calf level and two minutes later the firm canine body would barge back past one’s shins. I opted for safety in the sturdy form of Trembler who told me some good/not so good news. The Tremblers are in the process of buying a house in Portugal and are looking to move out there in a month or so, which means we won’t be seeing too much of them in the future. Certainly wish them all the best.

Trembler and I got to the end of the track that ended by a quiet road and Jenk’s old house. The rest of the stragglers caught up. Byt this I mean the rest of the walkers: Dumper, OldDog et al. Not the FRBs and the rest of the Pack since they had managed to lose themselves somewhere in the dripping forest. Spot had gone to try and find them. Trembler went off one way down the road and I opted for the path into the soaking, green field. Which was filled with young, black heifers. A number of them glanced curiously at me from their shelter by the hedge while one had other ideas. On the left of the field was a horse shed with an opening on to the field from where the head of a fine brown horse poked out. Below and in front of him stood one of the heifers, looking up at him. They viewed each other in friendly, mutual curiosity. It was an interesting moment and I wondered what was passing through their, respectively, equine and bovine minds. There was an almost intelligent understanding. It was rather like Billy meeting Shitfor in a pub. But with a touch more mental acuity.

We stayed in this location for a fair while since none of us could find any flour and Hitchhiker, the slightly more attractive of our Hares, had not the faintest idea which way to go. The runners had still not arrived. Whinge appeared on the track, striding strongly up it and very pleased with himself since he had happened upon a rather nifty short cut. Hitchhiker realised Spot was probably lost with the rest of the Pack and decided desperate times called for desperate actions. She slapped on a little blusher, applied some lippy, checked her mirror and strode with purpose stright on down the road exhaling a brief and private sigh of relief when the first, almost washed away, flour blob appeared.

Cerberus, TC, Barney and I ended up together and a fascinating half hour or so it proved to be. There was a riveting discussion on the price of pasties for instance. We had an earnest and rather humorous conversation on the relative benefits of waxing or threading one’s eyebrows. Apparently, Cerberus plucks out the more sprouty of Billy’s when he’s asleep, since he won’t allow her to do it when he’s awake. The thought of Cerberus with a pair of tweezers and a determined glint in her eye creeping ever nearer to a gently sleeping Billy is hilarious. We really must get a Hashcam during one of these episodes. We can only hope that she has spotted a hirsute nostril. I for one would pay good money for that explosive video! Cerberus kindly gave me a quote for this organ which I reproduce here verbatim. She said, somewhat wistfully, “Sometimes I feel quite sorry for myself being married to Mick.” I’m sure we can all feel a great deal of sympathy for this poor, stoic woman.

We returned in torrential rain and heaved ourselves into cars to pull off our damp kit, steam up the windows and worry the people living nearby. We must thank HitchHiker and Spot for laying this excellent Trail in the naff weather. The pub was warm and welcoming and Emily handed round delicious chocolate cake to say goodbye, since she is moving to Cambridge. We wish her all the best and hope to see her again.

Lastly, I shall not be able to get to the Hash for the next three weeks so I would like to thank OldDog in advance for volunteering to write the Gobsheets during this time. What a fine woman. Wish Dribbler a very happy 60^th for me!

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Dumper presented the following :-

This ½ pint thing makes for pretty quick drinking

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