Hash 977

The phone rang at 6.45. It was Sam, enquiring if he could hitch a ride to the Hash, OK says I. As soon as I put down the receiver, there was huge crack of thunder and the heavens opened. Damn it I thought, committed to going now. The thought of sipping a glass or two of wine in front of the TV suddenly seemed enormously appealing.

Nil desperandum, (I expect Gerry knows what that means), we arrived at the pub just in time to nick the last parking place, then Anthony parked behind us! So Sam and I squeezed out of the car to chat with the assembling throng.

The G.M said he’d just returned from white water rafting in the Grand Canyon, which to be fair is a pretty cool thing to do on a Tuesday afternoon and I think his shorts were still damp, but it was difficult to be sure!

Jane P. Our intrepid hare for the evening then told us that we must leave what seemed to me, to be a perfectly good pub car park and cross the road to the public car park, where we were given important instructions (well I think they were important, actually I wasn’t listening, oops, sorry!)

We then crossed back over the road to the pub, (Hares know best, don’t they), called The Wheel, which sounds like some kind of medieval torture machine, maybe a sign of things to come? Check it out.

We slipped off down Stocking Lane and into the meadows beyond and at this point I was lying 19th, but then a cruel 12 back swiftly followed by a 6 put me at the head of the field as we descended into the dark woods beyond. 

Obviously too dark for some, as Mike, a way behind me apparently moosed and abandoned his run. It never ceases to amaze, as to how much blood people are prepared to shed to get back to the pub early.  The run through Piggots Wood seemed to go on forever with much back tracking and general procrastination until we finally arrived at the long short split with the longs having missed the check and gone short. Eventually, they were hauled back and pushed off in the right direction, me included, into the fields beyond.

We soon encountered a herd of Jersey cows who were determined not to let us pass, which was somewhat strange as we had no dogs with us, and they had no calves. Usually, if you confront a herd of cows which Ade and I did, they back off. Not this lot, however, and they soon had me surrounded and isolated from the rest of the hash. Defence is the best form of attack I thought, so I approached each one individually  and explained how unreasonable and impolite I thought they were being, only to be greeted with flailing back legs and much attempted head butting (and the cows were getting pretty nasty too). As I scrabbled over the stile, the herd bull appeared right behind me, and it dawned on me that this was why they were being so unusually bold.

We dropped down onto Speen road, and began running up the hill into the village. Ade’s local knowledge saved the hash from running too far up the hill, when he spotted a concealed arrow, and we cut through Pye Corner. Then Guys Spring descended rapidly into Flowers Bottom, (oh dear, see, that’s what happens when you try and copy someone else’s comic writing style, sorry Super Cooper, promise it won’t happen again).

We groped around Flowers Bottom for some time (stop it now!), eventually finding the trail up the very steep ascent into Courns Wood. It was now 9.30 and the Hash seemed to lose the will to live at this point, with several hashers having gone lame, most out of breathe and torches failing.

Desperate consultation of the map that Jane had given to Sam revealed a short cut straight back down the main road to the pub, ‘though I began to feel like an escape from Stalag 17 as we tried to extricate ourselves from the RAF camp at Walters Ash.

Finally, we arrived back and as I entered the pub, only a large silver platter remained, that had obviously once been piled high with chips, sadly no more. So I consoled myself with a windfall apple, that I think Maggie brought, mmm – delicious.

A good hash Jane, perhaps a little on the long side (how dare HE say that you’re thinking, well I just did). Oh, and the weather – it was fine!