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Hash 1423

There is nothing like a TO DO list to spur one into action, especially in this day and age, when so many of our electronic necessities (I remember an age before tea bags and freshly ground coffee machines. And cigarettes really could kill if you smoked more than 20 of them (ever)) are twittering with each other when I am asleep.

The alarm clock goes off. Instead of beeping annoyingly, it nags me by saying “Write the hash report. Write the hash report”. Go down stairs and switch on the freshly ground coffee thing. That just nags me to wipe its bits. Open the Samsung fridge door to get the milk (because the freshly ground coffee thing can’t be ***sed to do it itself). All I hear is “Hash trash, hash trash” and, bizarrely, “Have I dealt with Rocket Man?” (I think that is a misdirected communication, but it does distract the NSA for a while).

Back to the business in hand.

A select group stood around the small car park behind the General Havelock, fighting for spaces with the dominoes club (the double blank had no problem fitting in, by the way). Our hare, Moose, cut short the banter and set us on our way, straight down to Kings Mead (could have guessed this, but an archaic word for meadow), crossing over Back Stream (didn’t know that). The good news, dog off lead, the bad news, how to keep her out of the water.

What a busy place Kings Mead is at that time of night. So much sport under floodlight, and then there was us disrupting the routine. And sooo many checks. A loop of Frederick Place gave us the opportunity to go to the Wycombe Heights, but gratefully this was not to be. Instead, we found a trail by the side of the Wye and headed back into town. Yet more liquid canine temptation.

The netball centre was alive with bouncing balls and pony tails, which contrasted starkly with the stationary queue of cars on Fennels Road, all trying to get to the sports centre to pick up their daughters, all at the same time. Which happens every week.

Onward, upstream, round the retail park, Currys PC World featuring Carphone Warehouse and a surprisingly busy KFC (or was it just slow service) into the new housing estate. It seemed a pleasant enough place to live, even maintaining its status as greenbelt land through the copious deposition of astroturf and gravel paths.

At this point, we got a glimpse of life before Beeching, as we travelled the Wycombe/Bourne End railway embankment before crossing the A40. Sooper made a sentimental foray up Cooper’s Rise, before realising he could save energy by going the right way, which was level, by the side of the railway line.

Earlier that day, Moose had run into Mr Bellamy walking his dog. Coming tonight? “No” replied Mr B, “I’ve got to see a train about a station”. That nearly made sense, which shows the “anti-eager” pills are starting to work.

Through the tunnel under the railway, echoing loudly, much to the distress of a man on a phone, trying to explain to his wife that the train was late and he wasn’t really at a party.

Past The Sausage Tree, A Yoga Sanctuary and onto the Rye. Dog off lead. Dog in water.

Then something amazing. The GPx record shows, beyond any shadow of doubt, that Sooper has super powers. He can walk on water. Can I tell Mike Bushell? He would love to make a program about that.

So far, the uphilliness rating has been low, but that changed when we circumnavigated Keep Hill Drive and tripped around the edge of Deangarden Wood. Speaking of Deangarden. It wouldn’t have been a Moose run without “YCSMHFH”. Or more accurately, “YCSMBGFH”.

And we were back. Nice dry run with a lot off road.

Now, Mike C, are you reading this from Trumpton, or wherever in the USA you are? Chips. Chips. Chips. So many chips that we couldn’t eat them. Even after stuffing them in our cheek pouches. We even resorted to making daisy chains with them.

Thanks Moose. Great evening.


I decided to make my password "incorrect" because if I type it in wrong, my computer will remind me, "Your password is incorrect."

Q: Did you hear abut the hungry clock? A: It went back four seconds.
Q: How do astronomers organize a party? A: They planet.

When Magnesium and Oxygen started dating I was like, "O MG!”

Two blondes fell down a hole. One said, "It's dark in here isn't it?" The other replied, "I don't know; I can't see."