Run Number:



Visit the website –
Website Email –


The Bull, Streatley


Zebedee, TT2, Florence

Hill People

Handful Trigger Donut Hashgate Dunny RampantRabbit Shitfor Desperate Cerberus Twanky Dorothy TinOpener and dog Minx Poca and baby Ewok + 1 Glittertits Pissquick Iceman Foghorn Bob MessengerBoy Spot HitchHiker Whinge TC Shandyman Skids Simple Lemming Mother Theresa Booby Potty RandyMandy BlindPew Mr Blobby Mrs Blobby Slowsucker Fiona Jenks and dog Dylan Kate BumWiper and dog Ebony AWOL HP Nappyrash Posh Bomber Motox Snowballs Anorak Trainspotter Adrian Angella Mark RedRum and his lad (so sorry – I have forgotten his name) Quackers and baby Benjamin

A Day of Ups and Downs

And today’s challenge was.. prising Donut’s somnolent form out of the car. She’s had a very busy week. The eyelids were heavy with drowsiness. The body limp with lethargy. Hashers bounced around the car park in the delightful sunshine, enthusing on the coming Spring and the Trail. Even Rampant (glad to see him back after his accident) looked quite perky, despite his game leg (he was telling us that, since he has little quad muscle on one leg at the moment he has to go down slopes sideways, good leg first, otherwise he falls over. Seems to me nothing much has changed since before his accident. Luckily, I have a motorised harness on the passenger side of the car for such occasions and it lifted Donut’s lacklustre frame out with reasonable ease so that, while she hung there like Kermit (perhaps not quite as green) without the assistance of hand and sticks I could ease off her boots and on her running shoes before lowering her gently, straightening her up and leaving her to lean against the door frame for a snooze while I went for a few chats.

Before we continue I must thank my doppelganger (but only in a writing sense! And you might want to look that up on Wiktionary – especially the first Noun definition ), Shitfor, who narrated last week’s Gobsheet for Desperate to transcribe. I could describe it as a literary tour de force. Or perhaps that should be tour de farce… Either way, the lad stepped into the breach and provided the Hash with the exclusive news that Posh wears no knickers. Hmm, a slightly different reporting slant to the usual style of this organ. And I can indeed confirm, after extensive research on behalf of our readers, that Posh does indeed sport undercrackers. Merino wool in the winter, stretching from ribcage to knee and much warmer she is because of ‘em.

So if the sun shone, the sky was blue, the ground was dry and it wasn’t freezing cold like it has been, why was there a tinge of trepidation in the air, a hint of hesitancy? Could it be because our Hares were the TTs? Zebedee (aka TT1) – known running lunatic. TT2 – twin brother of same and almost as nutty in the running department. Florence (aka TT3) – moll of TT1 and known to run extreme distances while barely bothering to increase her breathing rate. Could it also be because the pub was almost at the deep bottom of the river valley? Well, yes, it could and it was. Where did the On Out go to? Why straight up the steep valley side of course. This was a bit of a shock to the system. And to none more than Donut who a) had brought insufficient clothing, and b) was still half asleep. Mr Blobby’s joke call of “Bar-6” after ¼ of a mile of vertical ascent did not go down too well. If anyone had had an ounce of breath left they might well have called said Mr B a very rude name. As it was, we clambered (no-one could run at that angle) up the sticky/slippery mud of the slim paths until we staggered out on to a sunlit upland and the first Regroup (there were three – we expected nothing less). Having finally dragged our gasping carcasses off the grass we looked up to see a superb panorama across the valley and over the green fields and woods on the other side with a bright train arrowing along. It was almost worth the run to get there. Some people were so overcome by the effort of getting to this spot that, having seen paths running sharply downhill they fled down them, arms flailing in a welter of expectation. Shame really. They only had to drag themselves back up when Hare Florence called in the opposite direction. So let’s hear a round of sardonic applause for Cerberus, Shitfor, Bomber. Also for Twanky, Iceman and Booby who decided to follow Florence’s direction but then run straight down into another deep valley for really no good reason.

The walkers appeared, worryingly coming towards us. But we were rather entranced by a number of low-level ‘mazes’ fashioned of runs of grass mounds about four inches high and apparently made for bunnies, though RandyMandy thoroughly enjoyed running round one of them. You wouldn’t think you could get lost in something like that but she managed it and had to be shepherded out as a gibbering wreck by Zebedee and myself. We dusted her off, pointed her in the right direction, wound her up, patted her on the head and off she went, still gibbering.

We reached the second Regroup after a fantastic run along the top of the sunny, short-grassed hill, pustulated with frost heave mounds. I congratulated Whinge on his running (he’s been ill you know –major surgery… he tells us over and over again). His secret, he confided, is to find an attractive bum some way off, then make for it like a Jack Russell after a ferret. Then, when he has caught up, find another. Sounds like a plan. Must give it a try. No, Twanky, you can’t be a target. While at the Regroup we enjoyed watching Minx eating it and Bumwiper who pranced across the bright sward towards us singing, “The Hills Are Alive”, then announced she was Mary Poppins! Worrying, isn’t it?

Finally, we streamed all the way down the hill and finally got to the high street where, you guessed it,there was another Regroup with the choice of a three minute jog back to the pub or a schlep round Zebedee’s Loop. Unbelievably, we all opted for the Loop. Though it was amusing to note that small groups of people sloped off at points where they thought they couldn’t be seen by the rest. Finally, we came back out to the bridges, admired the casualness of the drinkers by the river outside The Swan and pasted off uphill to the pub where I was passed by BumWiper and RandyMandy who were going at it like trains. Even little Ebony was panting!

Great Hash. Lovely country. Superb day. Many thanks to our Hares.

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Shitfor presented the following :-



Style points


Today’s virgin

Really not too bad


Threatening to slap BlindPew’s bum

Slapped it down, leaning back styly


Calling for a pea on the Hash

Excellent effort


Allowing Minx to eat the Regroup

Rather enjoyed it


Singing “I’m a troll, foll-di-roll” under the bridge at me

It trip-trapped down


Watching the heavily pregnant Poca pull baby Benjamin up the hill in his pram without deigning to assist

A gentlemanly ½

Florence, Zebedee, TT2

Today’s Hares

Despite interference from Zebedee Florence still shaved it. She’s my hero(ine)

Up and Coming



Grid Reference






The Royal Oak 
Knowl Hill Common, Knowl Hill, 
Reading RG10 9YE





The Cottage Inn 
26 Broad Lane, Upper Bucklebury, 
Reading, Berkshire RG7 6QJ