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Run Number: |
1867 02Sep13 |
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Visit the
website – http://www.berkshirehash.co.uk |
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Venue: |
The Swan |
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Hares: |
Skids, Simple, Nutty |
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Cobs and Pens
Iceman Spex LoudonTasteless Donut Hashgate Shandyman Chopstix Slapper NoSole Straddlevarious Misdirection Motox Steamer Dribbler Butterfly Foghorn Booby SkinnyDipper Centaur Snowballs Whinge TC Lonely Caboose Shitfor Desperate Fannybag Bogbrush CabinBuoy Linda Lara Dwight Julia Scoot Shylite Uplift Hotlips Twanky JustMoist Mr Blobby Mrs Blobby Utopia Nutty Potty Spot Ms Whiplash Hamlet Flash HappyFeet Dumper OldDog Shifty Jill Itsyor TT2 Zebedee Florence
Far Canal
“Do not meddle
in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and good with ketchup”. A
surprising and perhaps somewhat confusing start to this week’s Gobsheet you may
think. I thought similarly on reading this bumper sticker attached to the light
green people carrier in front of me as I headed for the A4. Unfortunately, it
turned off before I was able to see if it was driven by a long-bearded,
pointy-hatted, robes-wearing Dragon Whisperer. Not perhaps too likely in
Reading but then that bumper sticker was a mite unusual too.
So there we were in the middle of very urban Thatcham on the penultimate Summer evening Hash. Many people drove slowly into the car park, only to circle round, see that the only parking space wasn’t really wide enough for a child’s scooter (thank you white van man for straddling the line) and drive slowly out again. However, one of our number (presumably a former driver on Harry Potter’s Night Bus) was determined to get into the space. JustMoist pressed a button in her car and two metal arms extended from the roof. The elbows bent and the blown-up rubber gloves on the end of each smeared a generous blob of (unsalted) butter along each side of the car. Their job done, the arms straightened vertically, then rapidly disappeared back inside the car. JustMoist revved up, dropped the clutch and schhllopped in.
Our title today is descriptive not only of the Trail, which was very far and mainly along a canal, but also offers phonetic insight into the the words that came to our minds after a number of miles along this linear yomp.
After an initial skirmish with the railway bridge and a lack of flour (“Can’t make it too easy for you, Hashgate.” Advised our lady Hare.) we skittered pell-mell along the canal. It was a tad eyeballs-out for the first half mile and we couldn’t see a damn thing with the low sun shining directly in our eyes so we were almost happpy to break off into tarmac hell for a while. Not for too long, mind you. Urban running isn’t quite our thing. We passed a dead mouse in the road, sympathising with its state and wondering if we would soon join it in its cheese-laden heaven. TT2 decided to try his hand at personal euthanasia and hurled himself to the dusty floor in a vain attempt to get a lift back to the pub in the Air Ambulance. A lot of sniggering convinced him it wasn’t going to work so he rose magnificently, dusted off his T-shirt and carried on. Not to be outdone, Spot tried the same dodge but received only a round of applause and a couple of very sore ribs for his trouble.
We headed back towards the canal, Spex and Donut being amused by Mr Blobby’s inability to distinguish a honking goose from a call of “On On”. Then Florence appeared, as if she’d just leapt out of the canal by which she stood, languidly chatting with C5. A little further on was a Check by a swing bridge. So we all ignored the Check and played on the bridge. It swung to open the canal to water traffic and deposited us all on the other side. Which was a pity really since the Hares delightedly squirted flour arrows on the other bank of the canal, pointing down the towpath. There was a mad scramble to jump back on the bridge as a number of us pushed the bum-high handle that swung it around. Unfortunately for, and unknown to, SkinnyDipper her bum was in the path of the handle. Now there’s a very old question about what happens when an irresistible force meets an immovable object. All I will say is that certain (less than) gentlemen Hashers were taking bets that the latter would prove to be victorious…
Along and along the canal and Butterfly and I were trying to figure out what was going on. We had been running West for a long time and there seemed to be no likelihood of turning back. We settled on the probability of catching a train back to Thatcham. Which made us feel rather a lot better.
The darkling sky showed its true colours: violet to sapphire, like a kingfisher’s wing sweeping above the dimming tunnel of trees that framed the still, black canal with its quiet, moored narrow boats. Two pink vapour trails streamed across it and the bells of the church in Newbury pealed soulfully. As LoudonTasteless and Dribbler caught up a recently-built bridge appeared in front of us, framed in a discreet neon light. As we crossed it we realised that the quiet thrumming in the car park ahead of us was a blessed coach come to sweep us back. We gratefully entered its welcoming door, greeted the smiling driver and sank into the luxury seating.
What a nice change to have an A to B Trail! Well done Hares and many thanks.
On On. Hashgate.
Down Downs
Inestimably presented by RA Shitfor, sporting his new tattoo: a leg-based bottle of Stella Artois!
And we were joined by Dick van Dyke, not covered in soot and essaying a cod Cockney accent but masquerading as Whinge’s step-father J
Well that ancient dictation machine of mine has decided to
refuse to play back details of the Down Downs so this is from memory.
C5 – for leaving his car number plate last week!
TT2 and Spot – For being a pair of tumblers.
HappyFeet – for not having happy feet (she forgot her socks and gained a blister)
Hashgate – for having the libido of a hamster on Viagra
Skids, Simple and Nutty – our Hares this week
Up and Coming
|
Run |
Date |
Grid Reference |
Venue |
Hares |
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1869 |
15Sep13 |
The Plough |
Mr. Blobby |
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1870 |
22Sep13 |
Joint Run with NH4 |
FullFrontal |