Woodland Folk

Dumber Jake Donut Hashgate Slackbladder Little Stiffy and dog Miasie Iceman Cerberus BillyBullshit Spex LoudonTasteless ShutupWally Foghorn CabinBuoy Blowjob Desperate Shitfor John Ms Whiplash SkinnyDipper Spot C5 Dumper Spex Motox Mr Blobby Mrs Blobby Booby Utopia Pissquick Poca No Sole Slapper RedRum Lisa Slowsucker Swallow Howard Ruth Gregory Dribbler Butterfly TT2 Florence Zebedee Julia Caboose Itsyor Cheating James Stefan (all the way from Switzerland!) Lonely Shandyman FullFrontal

Afforestation

Well a very pleasant and unusual sight greeted us as we drew up in the dusty car park amidst the forest, confusing massed dog walkers and confounding locals. The sight was not just the welcome return of BGB but seeing him with a huge and empty sack of flour. Knowing his penchant for parsimony in the flour department this boded remarkably well. Mind you, it was interesting to note that he had this particular bag in one hand and in the other a very small bag of specialist, gluten-free, stone-ground bread powder – half empty. So it was looking good. Until we found out he had been unable to lay most of the Trail through shortness of breath – possibly caused by his surprise that he was actually near to more flour than he had ever been near before. Then Honeymonster limped up to me, pushing his bike, before intoning, Marvin the Paranoid Android-style, “I’ve got a pain in all the foot on my left-hand side.” Seemed he’d injured said member during the afternoon while laying the Trail and was only just recovering. It seemed there were also other members that were injured. Shitfor was carrying an Achilles tweak and Iceman had returned after a few weeks off with a calf injury (sustained during the Fun Run) wearing some kind of white stocking on his lower leg. Very fetching no doubt but he needs reminding that the Red Dress Run only takes place once a year.

Swallow was confused as we waited for the Gather Round. Seeing a number of canines in this remote, forest-located car park she wondered whether this was a dogging event. I informed her that it wasn’t quite as ‘old’ GM Slowsucker grasped the reins of power while current GM Simple was absent and called us to order. We appreciated the fact that this was the shortest introductory speech he had ever given (his filbusters during his tenure of the GM rôle being legendary) and also appreciated that he wasn’t still the GM.

We burst off into the forest in a tidal wave of enthusiasm that soon diminished to a trickle as our bodies realised that physical effort was required to propel ourselves forward at the same time as talking the hind leg off a donkey. The ground was alternately springy, strewn with dry, dead branches and and the occasional end of a cut-off sapling sticking out of the ground. While running behind me Shandyman’s toe sought out, identified and deliberately connected with one of these. One moment I heard crunchy footsteps and a dark-brown lilting Welsh voice. The next a mighty crash, a dark-brown oath and a wave-like motion of the ground rippling from around his prone body, shaking leaves from the trees and prompting a stampede by a small family of squirrels nearby who had been enjoying a spot of evening nut tiffin. Fortunately, nothing was broken. And Shandyman was ok too.

We enjoyed the rolling of the hilly forest tracks, particularly the downhill bits. We crunched on a pebbly track down towards an echoey tunnel where ShutupWally began squawking and echoing, the echoing particularly appropriate since he often repeats himself. Mr Blobby and I crunched up the other side with him likening Wally to a troll, fol-di-rol. All we need was a couple of billy goats gruff trip-trapping over the bridge above. The Check at the top fooled everyone and allowed other gasping Hashers to stagger up towards us before Honeymonster, resplendant on his bike, kindly pointing the the way into the woods once more. This turned out to be a part of Swinley forest where a widespread fire had raged a month or so before. It was a suprisingly beautiful area as we slipped lightly along the winding trail through blackened stumps where bright green ferns had sprouted and orange swathes of pine needles slipped crisply beneath our feet. The air smelt of charcoal and fresh leaves. Could have happily run around here for a lot longer. Desperate asked, “Do you think there’s been a fire?” One despairs sometimes.

We hit a Long and Short split with the Short taking a fairly straight, wide, but still fairly long, track back to the car. Poca called out behind us that there were bikes coming up through our strung-out line and Iceman particularly admired the curving lines of a bike ridden by an attractive lady as she swerved between our stunbling bodies. Surprising how something like that gives one a well-needed boost of energy and we stepped lightly down the sandy hill past the On Inn.

Motox provided us with the quote of the week in the pub after I had handed him his first paper Gobsheet for many weeks. “You’ll never guess what I’ve been doing while I’ve been without the Gobsheets’” He beamed, to guffaws from Slowsucker, Swallow, Donut and yours truly.

Our thanks to tonight’s Hares who gave us a fine Trail despite their injuries. And there was plenty of flour (thanks Honeymonster!).

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA C5 presented the following :-

Spot just drained his without waiting for the son. The cad!

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