As I was driven, under the large arch of the old 'George and Dragon' coaching Inn in West Wycombe, by a large black cat, I found myself in a reflective poetic mood. Since it was built during the reign of Henry V, hundreds of thousands of people, must have entered this large area formally known as 'A Gin Court'. But tonight finds a most eclectic group of individuals, a bonded team a ... band of brothers.
From the surrounding villages of Wooburn Green, Wheelers End and Marlow sur le Thames, come this group of diverse individuals, who are proud to be know as ….Hashers!
Their leader this night is called 'Hare Staines' and is assisted by his 'Hareness Tash'. He started tonights proceedings by telling us our foes thoughts; we were lower in numbers, compared to last weeks Hash, but he was confident that we and William would 'Shake a spear' and conquer. ''We must go out along the High Street, towards the bright lights of Wycombe', he said.
Opposite the Village Hall we found the first of our 'checks'. Marked in flour, it was in the shape of a circle. It was the sign the Hashers were after. Spurred on by this find, the group broke into a slow run.
Across the busy road north to Princess De Risborough the Hash went. While the main group went up the hill, the lame ones stayed on the low ground. Up hill and down dale the pack went, through narrow paths where flour was a plenty. To the top of West Wycombe Hill the main and lame groups met up and united in their quest and secured the high ground. Happy to work as a team against a common foe of boring banalities in a mad plastic world. You know what I mean, innit?
But who are these Hashers and what makes such a diverse group get on so well? Where else would you find spiders, relaxed in the company of cats? Ladies that are not bothered by a rip to their dresses or make up that has smudged? Men wearing terrible wigs, yet no one laughs at them nor at those people, who have simply come wearing running gear, fancy dress!
These people are genuine. They do not care if their hair is a total mess or they have to use a plastic cape to keep warm. These people do not relate to the modern selfie obsessed, aren't I special, because I done nothing, generation.
These Hashers are the modern day Band of Brothers and..
This night is call'd Halloween
He that survives this run and comes back safe
Will stand at the bar when this tin comes round
And pay a pound at the name of Barney
He that shall live this night and see old age,
Will yearly on this night wear strange Hallow clothes
And say 'Tonight is Halloween.''
Then will he strip his mask and show his fake blood,
And say ''These wounds I have for Halloween.''
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What on backs he did that night. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as Hashers words—
Dick the Hare, Roger and Hawkeye,
Maggie and Dave, Hermione Eve and Dulcie—
Be in their flowing cups and plates of chips freshly rememb'red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Hash House Harriers shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we Hashers shall be remembered
We few, we mad few, we band of brothers;
For he tonight that spots flour with me
Shall be my brother, be he ne'er so normal,
This night shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in Wycombe now a watching an X Factor
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles we shouted On On
And ran with us, upon this Halloween.