Hounds

CabinBuoy Honeymonster Persil Hashgate Ms Whiplash Spot Simple Bumwiper and dog Ebony Booby Blowjob Fannybag BlindPew Desperate Shitfor Snowballs SlipperyNipples Itsyor Ben Andy Iceman Zebedee Florence C5 Dumper MrBlobby Butterfly Dribbler Horny RedRum RubberDuck and baby Cheating Billy Cerberus Lonely Caboose

Stag(gerer)s

Getting to a Hash early has its rewards, as Persil and I discovered. Since parking was at a premium we bagged the last two of three spaces opposite the pub and I settled down to enjoy the last few minutes of ‘I’m Sorry, I Haven’t a Clue’. Scintillating, quick-fire wit sparkled out of the radio. Since Rob Brydon was a panellist there was a Welsh flavour and one round involved converting song titles and television programmes to similar with a Welsh bent. Hence ‘Merthyr, She Wrote’, ‘Doctor Who and the Harlechs’. And for those who have heard the show Jack Dee announced that Samantha had been meeting Welsh gentry. Yesterday she had visited the Earl of Caernarvon. Today she was going to mount Snowdon... Wonderful fun and a perfect preliminary to a Hash.

Booby slid his car in the slot next to me, leaving five millimetres of space in which we had to squirm, toothpaste-like out of respective driver’s doors. I oozed over to the mud-spattered Hares, Twanky and Messenger Boy and gloopily resumed standard, stick insect shape before fondling the ears of the exhausted Lucy. The poor doggie had been dragged round the Trail by Messenger Boy in a well-meaning attempt to give her ‘a bit of a walk’. Her tongue hung out as she looked up at me with soulful eyes that said, “Tell the twat never to do that again or his ankle is my breakfast.” And she slumped into her water bowl. After the Hash many of us felt the same and though we would have willingly bitten either Messenger Boy or Twanky on the ankle most of us simply did not have the energy. Speaking of legs, it was a bit of a surprise to find Twanky spraying both of mine with something cold, then running a trembling hand up and down one calf. This was more than a little disconcerting. Not only for me but for several aghast Hash onlookers. “Lot of mosquitos about tonight.” He explained, finally prising a Deet-covered paw from my gastrocnemius.

A couple of new chaps turned up tonight: Andy and Ben. “What nice young men.” Cooed Fannybag and Desperate. “Lovely to have some fresh blood.” It began to sound like an episode of Twilight. They became even more excited when they learnt that the ‘nice young men’ would be bringing most of their football teammates next week. Perhaps we should rename Fannybag ‘Desperate II’?

The first part of the Trail skipped blithely back and forth across across the heath, as indeed did Billy  How excellent to see him running again. Congratulations, Billy – good to have you back. Mind you, the last I saw of him was him skittering off up a long False. Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving Hasher. Tee hee.

And then we started into the first of the shiggy patches. Quite a lot of these en route though this was a short, skiddy bit that led us to the barren field of scraped bare earth where a forlorn sign invited passers-through to ‘take only photographs’! Why anyone would want to was beyond us. It was as interesting as a brick. We loitered there at the early Regroup. Lonely and I tried to figure out why the sun seemed to be going down in the East. “Can’t be the East.” We said. Especially as Lonely’s i-phone finally let us know it was the East (the electronic compass initially failed to work, stating that there was ‘interference’ – though the only interference so far had been Twanky’s hand on my leg and I didn’t figure this had generated a degaussing effect on Lonely’s equipment). Caboose solved the problem, finally. “Surely the clouds are particularly bright in the East due to the reflected sunlight from the sun going down in the dim West.” “Why thank you, Caboose.” We chimed smilingly. Followed swiftly as he walked away by, “Clever git.” The Trail split to Long and Short. Some decided to make the Long even longer, such as Slapper, who we found running backwards along a False trail, wondering why he had found six blobs before having to stop and return. Desperate stopped to excitedly admire some highland cattle exclaiming, “Look at the horns on those!” Nice that people get excited over things in the countryside. A field of nodding golden corn, perhaps. A flutter of pale blue poppy leaves, mayhap. The soaring warble of a skylark, most certainly. But horns on a moo-moo? Weird.

The Long Trailers, Short Trailers, Walkers and baby all met up very nicely in a squishy field somewhere near, thought Cheating, Cookham. Given how far we seemed to have squidged it seemed more like the outskirts of High Wycombe, especially with the increasing number of hills up which we had run. A long, long, mud-spattered, trail led through the forest and we splotted and skidded our way through it, following Florence who was being especially careful since it was on this surface that she had slipped over and broken her wrist some time ago. We caught up with, and passed, Honeymonster, doggedly slurp-walking his way through the morass and followed Itsyor to a Bar-3 that we all celebrated the finding of. How we laughed and congratulated the Hares as we trudged back through the sucking mud. It was beginning to tell on the leg muscles but there was no let-up in the two steps forward, one slip back running style for some time until we skidded out on to tarmac and the other end of the lane in which the pub was located. Only another mile or so to go then. There was another soul-sapping Long and Short split and I found myself accidentally following Butterfly on the ‘Short’ Trail that led past Hall Place, a veterinary practice. The thought passed my mind that I could have myself humanely killed and put out of my achy-legged misery. Sadly, I had left my credit card behind, so plodded on. Joining up with the Long Trail later on there was just a short, grassy plod back to the pub. Now I had mentioned how tired we all were after this mud-slog but Simple showed a surprising turn of speed when BumWiper asked for assistance in rolling down the rucked-up back of her T-shirt, the front of which only just covered her ample, unfettered, perky bosom. I’ve never actually seen Simple move so fast, covering 25 yards in 2 seconds and un-rucking said T-shirt before anyone else could get there. What a gent!

Thanks to our Hares for an exhausting but super Trail. Hope Lucy got a good sleep 

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA C5 presented the following :-

Cleaned up superbly

Up and Coming