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The Maltsters Arms
Rotherfield Greys


Old Fart, Itsyor

Maltsters… With Arms

Spot Donut Hashgate Swallow Slowsucker Ms Whiplash Motox Mr Blobby Mrs Blobby Snowballs Simple Skids Nutty Potty Foghorn CallGirl DragonLady Pissquick RedRum Lungs LoudonTasteless Spex SkinnyDipper Zebedee Florence Barbara Bogbrush Fannybag Marcus Adam Amanda Phil Shaun Neve C5 Utopia Dumper Septic Dorothy Dumber Cheating Iceman Slapper AWOL PennyPitstop Dunny Rampant TC Whinge NappyRash Twanky Ebony I-Plod Fiddler TT2 Poca Heavy Petting(later)

A Nice Flat Trail (Right!)

It was windy. And fairly cold. Surprising in August really. But a Northerly breeze raised the hairs on many a forearm and caused more than one pair of goose-pimpled knees to twitch. Despite the assertion by OldFart during his Hare Talk that many of us were suffering (or possibly benefitting) from ‘lagging at the rear’. Prior to this, Simple, our revered GM, gave us a jolly interesting talk (while we swirled around him in a serried mass like Emperor Penguins in an Antarctic storm) that knitted together the number of this Hash (1759), the date that Arthur Guinness started brewing his dark nectar (1759), and the fact that we were at The Maltsters Arms. Frankly, many felt that he’d dropped a few stitches on the way and that a bit of a kip might knit up our ravell’d sleeve of care (with Apol’s to W. Shakespeare). Needless to say, by the time he’d finished several brass monkeys had experienced a dull double clang and the realization that life would never again be so much fun. We On Outed stiffly.

This is a well-known and well-loved venue. So much so by OldFart and Itsyor that they never lay a Trail from anywhere else. Trouble is, there are a number of ways the Trail can start, which is why the Hash exploded slowly in several directions, those cold knees creaking with effort. Except, of course for the two excellent new young Hashers: Neve (I do hope I spelt that right!) and Shaun, showing their dad, Phil how it should be done. We finally figured out it went into the field opposite, then immediately beasted off towards the False. Only Slowsucker had originally selected the right path but he came back, seeing everyone had gone the other way. Bad move since he had to go back again when the False was called.

We experienced the same procedure after we had skittered all the way down the steep woodland slope and turned right. Simple seemed to be leading, even tentatively viewing the next steep, green uphill path with a speculative gleam in his competitive eye. Fortunately for him the False was called and he turned away reluctantly with a dragging step that told everyone: “I wuz up ferit.” We still had to paste all the way back and then up another hill. I checked breathlessly with virgins Marcus and Amanda and they nodded breathlessly back that all was well. I’d mentioned to them earlier that they needn’t worry about getting left behind since the Pack often reverses. I think they were pleased to find out that this was true.

Our Hares had mentioned at the Gather Round that they had laid most of the Trail on tarmac in order to save us from running up all the hills. This was mendacity, red in tooth and claw. I don’t think we have ever run up and down so many. For example, there we were, trotting along a pleasant country lane when we turned off into a deep, green valley. Down and down we went. Then up and up to the stile that led into the woods, with Snowballs being surprisingly limber in his conquest of the slope. So where did we go? All the way up into the woods. Then back down again a few hundred yards from where we entered it, back down the valley and back on to the darn pleasant country road! Though not everyone did so. Slapper and AWOL were spotted, sauntering contentedly along the road, having arrived late. Nice one, chaps Iceman had appeared in the woods, loitering gaelically (is that a word?) before deafening all those within an 80-yard radius with a mighty, “On On!” Poca also appeared, skipping like a spring lamb across the sward.

This area is particularly beautiful, green and wooded with rolling hills. And, luckily for us, out of the wind that had chilled us earlier. Due to the speed at which we were running we were quite hot. Even Motox could have been described as ‘hot’. He had earlier pulled a bird. Not quite in the conventional way. While driving to the Hash he had been surprised when a Canada goose had dropped out of a tree and on to his bonnet. Quite why said bird had decided to end its life in a such aspectacular manner is unknown. Still, as OldFart had quipped, Motox had been thoroughly ‘goosed’. We can only hope he enjoyed the experience. I understand he has now joined the RSPB in the forlorn and mistaken hope that the initials stand for Really Sexy Porn Birds. I bet that ramps up his knowledge of Internet surfing… Perhaps he’ll develop into a ‘twitcher’.

Swallow hove into view, informing us that, “After last week I’ll take on anything”. Which the gentlemen among us were disappointed to find out related to being gnashed by a frenzied horse while laying her Trail. She and Amanda were at the back with Itsyor while we trotted along a field littered with friendly, munching cows and we caught up with Twanky who had chivalrously unhooked the electric fence to allow Lungs and two other ladies to pass. Their running style was a little lazy we thought and, since the electric wire was curled springlike, we thought we might help them along by pulling it out and letting go at their bum height. Sadly, we were too PC to turn our ideas into action but the mental scenario was worth the thought.

At the Regroup we met the DPS. This is the Donut Protection Society that had cared for the lady through the field of cows. She fears these gentle beasts almost as much as Fannybag, and Simple and Whinge had formed a protective barrier of bone and muscle (oh, all right, fat) against any agitated beeve that might take a fancy to this svelte lady.

The Long was arduous, according to Itsyor, so a number of us tripped lightly along the Short, past some delightful houses in the quiet, serene country and slipped back in to the car park, happy in the knowledge that we had just enjoyed a fine Trail and would be the first in the bar.

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA C5 presented the following :-



Style points


100 Runs. Awarded some time ago but got her goblet tonight

Very dainty

Adam, Marcus, Amanda

Tonight’s virgins

Amanda by a mile!


Had a bird fall for him

Supped with dignity


Not wantin to park in the ‘knobbly bits’

Wow! That orange juice was cold.


Awarded by Simple for being unable to recognize people directly in fron of him

One gulp and gone


Surviving a magician’s ‘sawing the lady’ trick that failed!

Like a sieve


Shot his bolt’ early on.

Shot this down too.


Offering to slip that electric wire up somebody’s bottom!

The cad enjoyed his ½

Itsyor, OldFart

Tonight’s Hares

Amazingly fast and a draw

Up and Coming



Grid Reference






The Crown, The Street, Swallowfield, Reading RG7 1QY





Bank Holiday – 6.00 p.m. Start 
Frimley Lodge Park, Sturt Road, Frimley Green, Surrey GU16 6HY
On On to Working Mens Club (100 metres down road) for cheap beer
Special permission to allow harriettes as a one off but PLEASE LOOK BUTCH!