|
Run Number: |
1872 07Oct13 |
|
Visit the
website – http://www.berkshirehash.co.uk |
|
Venue: |
The New Inn |
||
|
Hares: |
OldDog, Dumper |
||
Hashers
Bogbrush Fannybag Donut Hashgate TC Whinge Dunny Rampant Mrs Blobby Simple Skids Nutty Potty Motox Snowballs Slippery Cerberus MessengerBoy TinOpener Lilo and dog Minx Mix Blowjob Twanky Aqua JJ Fofhorn Chopstix Shandyman RedRum Cinderella and little brother Flash BGB FullFrontal Slackbladder LittleStiffy and dog Masie Nappyrash WaveRider NoStyle ChocChuck SkinnyDipper Mother Theresa Lemming BlindPew RandyMandy Hotlips Iceman OldFart Itsyor Dana Dorothy DoorMatt HappyFeet and from the Manchester Hash: Madam Cyn BothEnds ILikeIt
Inndian Summer
In October, weatherwise, it rarely gets much better than Sunday. The sky was an upturned azure bowl with the bright globe of the sun on a high heat setting. Even Donut, recorded in the Guinness World Records as the woman who can wear the most layers of clothing and still run a Hash Trail, had divested herself of several coatings and wore on her top merely a T-shirt and lady harness.
Having been directed by OldDog and Dumper away from the pub car park we nosed the Bora around the corner and spotted a fine, lay-by parking space just behind Whinge and TC’s car. Great, I thought. I’ll just nip past it and turn round. At which point, Bogbrush slid his car into the space like a sword blade into an oiled sheath! We drew level and watched smugness ooze from his every pore. He was just lucky I’d left my carpet beater at home or he’d have been roped face-down on his roof rack in two seconds with a bum beginning to beam as brightly as that lovely sun.
We
skipped quickly over to the pub where the Hares had already started their
Gather Round chat. As we arrived they presented SkinnyDipper and WaveRider with
dark, plastic, hooded ponchos. At the Hash at Sandhurst recently both had been
charged with acting dishonourably by a red-faced, expostulating local who
objected to their changing in public after the Hash. Mind you, WaveRider had
advised me that she was actually in the back of her car, that the expostulant
had apparently been in his bedroom (presumably with high-powered binoculars)
and that “they’d only been out for a couple of seconds.” Hence the ponchos, to
preserve ethical modesty. SkinnyDipper promptly started heaving off her top
while wearing hers. It wasn’t Dita Von Teese. More like a couple of ferrets
fighting in a sack. After a titanic struggle she emerged triumphantly, waving
her upper coverings in a distinctly immodest manner.
After this sunny burlesque we On-Outed… in the direction pointed out merrily by Hare Dumper, who then wilted swiftly under the Caledonian stare of his lady, OldDog. She, being the more sensible of the two had expected The Pack to ‘find the Trail’, a concept apparently entirely unknown to Dumper, a gent who has been Hashing for more years than many of us have been on the planet. Doh!
I have to say I’m being a tad
distracted by the furbelows on the good Ms Teese so my apologies if the rest of
this report degenerates into inane burblings. Perhaps I should hide the
photograph while writing… but, no. I shall remain perfectly perfessio proffess
pofres professional.
It didn’t take too long before we were out in forest and on to the heath, with the odd bit of shiggy squelching underfoot. Just to confuse us the Hares had laid two Trails, one with white flour and one with red. Usually, of course, the runners follow white flour, the walkers, red. But this Trail was the reverse so we runners had to remember constantly that we were following red.
We approached a house with a bucket outside the front of it, full of apples and a sign that read ‘Please help yourself’. One of our more childish Hashers thought it would amuse the others to pick up the entire bucket (ok, it was me). How we chuckled. Though I chuckled even more when NappyRash suggested that perhaps the man of the house was offering the services of his lady to passing gentlemen with a keen interest. He also let me know that Whinge had let slip that the day before he had loaded up his and TC’s mountain bikes and driven off to the Bash. Trouble was the Bash is actually next week. How we chuckled again J
MessengerBoy trundled up a hill from a Check in the forest. Motox and I started off after him. As he reached the top of the hill and disappeared into the undergrowth a strange mooing/braying sound emanated from his direction. Motox and I stopped and looked at each other. “Was that an On On, do you think?” Asked Motox. “Possibly a rutting stag.” I replied. “Or maybe MessengerBoy tripped on a passing weasel and groined himself on a sticky-out bit of tree.” Since he didn’t reappear we (now joined by newby Mix) decided to investigate and panted our way up the hill. There he was, in a lumpy field, following the short cut white flour Trail. The rest of us went round the field, following red, before beasting off into another bit of forest. This turned out to be a fairly long hairpin that had us running back down the road that paralleled the forest path. At one point in this I managed to address Rampant as Dunny so she asked me, while physically illustrating her point by pushing out her comely bosom, how I could possibly mix the two of them up. I gulpingly agreed it should have been rather more difficult and continued my run.
Just as we entered Pamber Forest we bumped into Madam Cyn, the Manchester Hash lady who had actually dragged herself there on crutches. Don’t know what the injury was but we wish her a speedy recovery. The On Inn appeared and, after Foghorn had nearly flattened me by tripping up behind, he regaled me with the story of how DragonLady had cocked-up their flight link times between Dallas and Chicago recently. Not surprisingly perhaps, DragonLady wasn’t with us during our conversation…
A lovely day’s Hashing and an excellent, friendly pub. Our thanks to OldDog and Dumper.
And before I forget, many thanks, OldDog, for writing the Gobsheets during my absence. The girl is an absolute pearl J
On On. Hashgate.
Down Downs
Our revered President, Motox, took the RA reins, today.
|
Who Got It |
Why |
|
Dunny |
Overtaking and pushing out of the way the RA! |
|
Hotlips |
Much huffing and puffing |
|
Pissquick |
For admitting to Motox that “you gave me one last night” |
|
Twanky |
Getting completely lost |
|
BlindPew |
Complaining he had to cross a stream three times |
|
Chopstix |
Causing both herself and Shandyman to be late |
|
Madam Cyn, BothEnds |
Our friendly guests from Manchester whopped the beer down |
|
Simple |
His (happy) birthday |
|
SlackBladder |
‘Personal’ massage in the public car park |
|
Mix |
Oops, can’t hear the reason on my recorder |
|
The pub landlady |
This fine lady gave us all free sandwiches and sausage
rolls. |
|
Motox |
Given a Down by Simple for inviegling a sneaky lift off SkinnyDipper at the Moonlight Hash |
|
OldDog, Dumper |
The Hares. Hurrah! |
Up and Coming
|
Run |
Date |
Grid Reference |
Venue |
Hares |
|
1874 |
20Oct13 |
Joint Hash with Didcot H3 |
Slackbladder |
|
|
1875 |
27Oct13 |
“Rocky Horror Timewarp Hash” |
Twanky (who else?!) |