Hash 1400

Considering it was May it was quite a chilly evening as we gathered in the car park of The Bricklayer's Arms on Downley Common, looking uncommonly like an orderly running group with many sporting their pristine new hashing T's and vests. Hare Simon giving the preamble explained that the flour was likely to have been rained away since setting and promised us all that there would be, "No hills and no snap election", so we all knew what to expect!

We were directed in a SSW direction towards the first check and were soon on a path heading towards West Wycombe. As we ran into the woods I noted an unpleasant aroma before catching up with Alex and Hector who seemed to be looking for something, I ran on to find Alan who was shouting back "It's by the tree" - very useful instructions to help Alex find Hector's smelly doggy deposit given that we were in the woods.

We ran down the hill and back up again and soon emerged from the woodland next to Cookshall Farm where we viewed West Wycombe's Mausoleum and the golden ball of St Lawrence Church on the opposite hill as we descended again to WW playing field before crossing the Bradenham Road (thank you nice lady in the black car for stopping for us all). It seems that Simon had temporarily handed the mantle of Hash Controller to Aaron for the night since as we ran back up the hill on the other side of the road I was exchanging pleasantries with Tim  when Aaron charged up behind us and requested that we, "Stand aside if you're chatting".

Taking a left at the road we passed The Hell Fire Caves and then across the side of WW Hill to a check at the edge of Chorley Woods where the hare sat on a bench commenting on the lovely view in one breath and grumbling that we were taking too long and wouldn't be back at the pub before 10 in the other (but notably refusing to call the "on" despite the eroded flour).

We then ran through part of Chorley Woods and back up to the top of WW hill, then back along and out of the woods on the Bradenham side to admire another lovely view before descending once again to the Bradenham Road, crossing over and taking a right under the tracks and along the railway path before another up into more woodland with our hare now moaning that we had better get a move-on because we were only 1/4 of the way around (although Cocker's Joe-90 wrist device registered 3+ miles at this point).

After lots more up and down through the woods we came out on the other side of Cookshall Farm before heading back into woodland where Aaron failed to dodge a low-hanging branch and sustained a nasty gash on his bonce which oozed lots of red stuff and up-moosed Kev's simultaneous grazed-knee moose. 

On-on through lots more up and down woods to eventually arrive back at the pub where we were all treated to some very dark but tasty chips, a 200-runs presentation to Matt and the Magneto award going to Hawkeye for trying to fix a punctured inner tube on the weekend's bash with a spare inner tube that was from a box that he'd labelled "Punctured, do not use".

As Dick, Cockers and I chatted at the bar, our conversation prompted Ian to invent a new word, "Bumakin" and you now have a choice of three definitions of its true meaning:

Bumakin:

1. A lazy relative from Newquay, or
2. A broken and unsightly Bunnykins ornament which was sold that day on Bargain Hunt for £52, or
3. A polystyrene moulded bottom that you put your pants onto before freezing them to kill any flesh-boring grubs as an alternative to ironing them in Africa.

Answer in next week's Hash Trash.

Thanks to Simon for setting a lovely scenic and undulating hash.