Welsh and Others

Messenger Boy Donut Hashgate Chopstix Shandyman(Welsh) Whinge TC Slowsucker Swallow HP Nappyrash BGB Tequilova Tinopener Lilo with dog Minx Lungs Twanky Dorothy Blowjob Motox Spex LoudonTasteless RandyMandy BlindPew Mrs Blobby Mr Blobby Fannybag Cheating Simple Nutty Potty Poca Pissquick Zebedee Florence Booby C4 Dunny Rampant OldDog Ms Whiplash NoSole Aqua(Fairly Welsh) JJ(Welsh) Flash Janet and dog Teddy Full Frontal Bumwiper and dog Ebony

The St. David’s Day Hash

Almost all the Davids (except LoudonTasteless – his first name – and me – my second name) were Hares on today’s Trail, to celebrate St. David’s Day. In case you don’t know, and I certainly didn’t, St. David (Dewi Sant) was a Welsh bishop in the 6^thcentury who founded a monastic order that stipulated that adherants had to plough land without draught animals, drink only water, eat only bread with salt and herbs and spend the evenings in prayer. They were allowed no personal possessions and eating meat and drinking beer were severely frowned upon. Not a bundle of laughs then, and certainly not a Hash follower. But with all that rain you can understand a touch of depression.

‘All that rain’ had descended and was descending on most of England this day. I shall blame lack of vision through the watery stair-rods that caused me to end up driving into the cricket club car park to turn round and go back to the village hall. Being sympathetic I shall also attribute the similar diversion taken by Snowballs and Slippery to the same downpour. Dripping people populated the car park, waving leeks and daffodils (as requested by the Hares). Slowsucker’s leek was a particularly fine specimen and he waved it about with aplomb. Tequilova sported a daffodil attractively woven into her pony tail… which dragged damply on her upper back. Prize for originality of thought for the day goes to Whinge who wandered about with a transparent plastic beaker of water wiith a cover clipped on it. When anyone, like Donut, asked what it was he squirted them with water through a small hole in the top declaring, “It’s a leak!” Har har. Mind you, I have to also applaud Zebedee, who was wearing a dragon on his head, its also wet scaly tail flapping limply behind him. It was interesting, as the Trail wore on, how it seemed to shrink, pushing his eyebrows together and giving him the appearance of a pointy-headed person worrying about something. Probably that his brain was being squeezed out through his ears.

There was little mucking about before the On Out as Hashers were eager to start running and shake off some of the water. At least it wasn’t too cold - to start with. See later.

We crossed Welshmans Road (nice touch, Hares) and beasted into familiar, if saturated, woods and slopped untidily towards the first of a few streams. A couple of slippery logs provided assistance with its crossing and first RandyMandy, then Slowsucker, skidded off them and sploshed into the knee-deep water to rousing cheers from their followers. Teddy the dog celebrated by standing expectantly in front of Slowsucker, expecting him to throw the leek for him to fetch. Across another ditch, Blowjob managed to slip on the outward, steep side and end up on her back with her legs in the air. Some people nodded knowingly and muttered that they’d seen her in that position before. Very unkind I felt.

Somehow we ended up at Twanky’s favourite boulevard: Camp Road, before squelching off into yet more forest. Many of the Checks had melted wetly into the ground upon which they had been laid but C5 was doing a sterling job with the front runners and either relaid them (the Checks, that is) or pointed us in the right direction. Lonely suddenly appeared – and invited me to sniff the leek attached to his elbow with a roughly tied piece of string. Since my nostrils (ears, eyes and everywhere else) were full of rain its bouquet was largely lost to me but I nodded appreciatively, water cascading off my eyebrows. Then Bumwiper and her little dog, Ebony, also appeared. They were quite a sight. She had on neck to ankle waterproof clothing… and a transparent shower cap. “Keeps my hair dry.” She explained. “Even if you look like a complete prat.” I replied in a friendly manner. Poor Ebony looked even dafter. The little lady was kitted out with a red pvc dog raincoat on her back. And that was what made me smile. On the top the creature was drier than the Gobi desert at midday. Underneath, scraggy, wet, muddy rat-tails hung down from her tummy.

Eventually, some of us reached the Regroup, others having taken a ‘Short Cut’ pointed out by Motox. Interestingly, they got back after the Long Trailers. Some Short Cut! We seemed to have been running for a very long time and appeared to be at the farthest point from the village hall. It also seemed to be getting very much colder as we dodged stiffly off towards some scrubby open ground. What, we wondered, was that white stuff coming out of the sky? Sleet. Then snow. The weather, and our enjoyment of the Trail, took a turn for the worse. My eyebrows began to get exceptionally cold. Guess it was the wetness and the freezing breeze that had sprung up. We came across LoudonTasteless who was running along with his hands down his shorts. C5 and I made the obvious, ribald comments until we realised his hands were so cold that it was the only sensible option, him not having gloves. He showed me his hands later, back at the hall. They were swollen red and looked very painful. After a long and extremely uncomfortable slog through freezing puddles, soggy grass, mud and big, wet snowflakes we got back to the hall and attempted to change with fingers that wouldn’t work.

How grateful we were to Fannybag, C4 and NoSole for boiling up kettles to make coffee and tea and for that deliciously warming leek and potato soup. Some of us did not even partake of the Brains and Felinfoel beer that was available, preferring hot to cold drinks. Frozen people gathered under the roof heaters, soup cupped in hands or wore two or three coats, like TC and Donut, while singing ‘Men of Harlech’ and the Welsh National Anthem. Fortunately, a hot act by C5 and Booby warmed us up nicely. Booby, dressed as a ‘man about town’ in a tuxedo and C5, dressed rather luridly as Welsh songstress Shirley Bassey, sang ‘Hey Big Spender’ to him in a theatrical and ultimately failed attempt to lure him with her/his charms. Ultimately foiled by Zebedee, who suddenly appeared at the end of the song, dressed as the most awful trannie queen I’ve ever seen, who jumped into Booby’s arms to be carried off for purposes on which I shalll not dwell here.

Great fun and our thanks to all the helpers and particularly the Hares who turned out to lay the Trail on this particularly foul day.

I will be in warmer climes for the next 3 weeks. Slowsucker has kindly agreed to write next week’s Gobsheet (you have been warned). See you in a while.

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Simple presented the following – indoors, thank goodness! No style points since it was inside and no-one wanted to make a mess  :-

Up and Coming