The evening started off, as so many Tuesdays do, with me gazing out of the window thinking – “I think I will give the hash a miss tonight as I am going to be busy.” The thought brought on a glow of contentment and deep inner peace. No hills or mud for me this evening.
But then things started changing – a window of hashing opportunity unexpectedly opened up – but I nobly fought it down. Then my conscience started to niggle – after all I had missed last week’s hash, and wouldn’t be around to go again until January.
Oscar Wild (I wonder if he got angry if you spelt his name without an “e”?) once said –“There are two ways to be happy on this heavenly ball, You must have a clear conscience, or no conscience at all.” This is sage advice and I tried hard to achieve the first state. Sadly I failed miserably so I ended up hashing after all.
And yes, there was a dirty great hill, right at the beginning, and yes it was cold, and yes it was fast, and yes it was long. It was billed as being 6 miles but my GPS said 12.25 miles by the end of the evening! OK, technically I may have forgotten to reset my GPS so it had possibly added on the 5.15 miles I did on Saturday, but that that doesn’t count – and it still leaves a long way we had to go. For those hashers who can’t subtract 5.15 from 12.23 in their head, the easiest solution is to take a really long piece of string and measure the hash for yourself.
The main hill of the evening was up to Wheeler Common, where upon, after a false check or two, the long cutters took a left down to Cadmore End where we promptly went the wrong way. Regaining the trail with the help of Kevin’s insider knowledge, we yelled loudly as we passed Candlewell Cottage – the home of the only two ex-hashers to have met on the hash and then got married. Rob keeps saying he will come running again, but like all hashers he lies.
Then on through the only non-road section of the evening (which, once we had cottoned on to the road-only status, made it much easier to predict the right route to check). Sadly this had the net effect of getting me caught by a lot more on-backs than normal!
A short long cutters loop around Lane End and we caught the SCBs up for the second time of the evening (OK, to be fair they had waited for us but that doesn’t sound anywhere near as good).
There were many and multifarious Christmas lights bedecking the houses, but as this encouraged the GM to start singing his own version of various Christmas Carols, the less said about it the better!
On to the Chequers, where we slid on the ice and accidentally lost half the hash. Unbeknown to us, the SCB’s hived off over the common – with Mick and a few others impressively managing to get lost there. This was despite the fact that there isn’t actually anywhere on the common where you can get lost. It seemed strange to us that the short cutters went that way anyway as, by most of our reckoning, it was actually longer than the long-cutters route.
And so it may have been as we got back to the pub several minutes ahead of them. On the way we ran down Piddington Lane, where Ken mentioned that he expected to see strange lights in the sky that evening, but we put that down to him hoping to consume rather too much beer that evening.
In the pub there was the normal jollification. Roger and Aud read a strange and somewhat suggestive story out to the hash, though nobody knew exactly why. Ryan was awarded a T shirt for 100 runs and there were chips and goodies for all.