After two previous beautifully sunny Tuesday evenings, we arrived at Whelpley Hill in a continuous rainy drizzle. Mexican Des, our hare for the evening, thanked everyone for turning out whilst he was sheltering under a tree, not that it stopped anyone getting wet one iota.
Although it is called Whelpley Hill the run would be on the flat, and it would probably be best if everyone took the long trail which Mexican Des would guide as the flour was laid in the afternoon but might not have lasted long in the rain.
So off we went north up the road towards Whelpley Hill Park then left across country. We seemed to be running on old tarmac frequently which was probably old dispersal tracks from the wartime airfield. Our hare had put down dozens of three person on-backs which kept everyone together neatly and ensured the FRB’s had plenty of exercise.
At one point we had to discourage this running to the back of the pack so that one of our lady runners could have a comfort stop.
By now we were pretty well soaked to the skin, but on we went to Pudds Cross and into the clay pit for the adjacent brickworks. Side note: the bricks for my house came from here.
It was so wet that one of our walkers decided not to walk but stay in the pub all night. I wonder who that was?
Through the clay pit we were running through lots of Galega papillioniacea in flower; very unusual. On to Green Lane and the long/short split.
As I was the only short runner Des gave me directions back to the pub. Down Green Lane then right and left. Totally confused I ended up in Bovingdon before retracing my steps past Bovingdon Airfield, where the flour led me back to the pub.
Bovingdon airfield is used these days for weekend markets and making films. For example the film Fury and parts of Harry Potter were shot here. In the past it was an American airforce base, which saw all sorts of famous American film stars passing through. This evening it looked pretty dismal.
Meanwhile the longs did another two-mile loop in the rain out towards Oxgate Farm and round back to Green Lane. At some point a purple morph appeared out of the drizzle; where did that come from, the things you see on a Hash run!
Back in the pub we took up most of the available space; it would have been a bit of a squeeze if we’d had the normal number of hashers. We were served with some of the largest chips we’ve ever seen, by two lovely barmaids. As Roger was missing Gerry stepped up to say a few words. As he was encouraged to by the rest of the Hash shouting, he thanked Des and promptly sat down, there’s thanks for you!
Thanks to Mexican Des for setting this run in such foul weather and for the great chips.