6 - 5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1 & He's Gone
Twas a chilly night by the time the rabble had assembled in the back car park, you'd have thought that us hardy hashers would have got the hang of such events running all through the winter an all that. But nooo, some strange quirk of nature seemed to convince a fair number of us that tonight winter was over and the balmy spring was only just around the corner.
Still trying to avert rigor mortis our ageing GM soon smelt blood & hot footed it up towards Fillingdon Farm, on his rapid return he whispered gentle encouragement to the kids still playing in the half frozen puddles at the back of the pack. 1 back, 2 back, 3 back, 4 back, more - we soon got the number of this hash. Soon after the longs took a welcome climb to the left which got some heat in the limbs, whilst the shorts were left to suffer the slow slog up what must be the chilliest valleys in the Chilterns.
After a few ups & downs, mubbles & moans, Rob's shrill calls from the back half expected me to find him belly down throwing a hissy fit but apparently he was just being gentlemanly like to the tardy Mark 'keys' Bellamy & having just won a bet with Psycho on what number the next on back would be (not like that was difficult tonight), I didn't actually go back & find out what all the fuss was about.
Off we pattered up through the rather shiggy Dells Wood, apparently hot on the tail of the shorts, Gerry learnt that running up hill is a pointless exercise & the shorts ignored the regroup, so we did a loop of the Wycliffe Centre - all stopping for a short prayer when we thought we'd lost the hare, (not sure how the local residents would have translated "where the ****! has Sam gone") but with so many of the locals being on his side our prayers were answered & both Sam & the shorts magically appeared at the next check.
Like lemmings we crossed the A40, slipped silently through Studley Green, before slithering down to Bottom Wood and followed the shiggy valley through Plomers Bottom, with many an on back keeping the full pack all jolly and gleeful. Just before Ham Farm & with the pub in full view the Blonde & I were convinced that Sam would be leading us back up to the ridge for one last twist in the tail but it would seem his nerve had left him & he'd gone all soft on us on this his last ever hash as the hare, boo hoo sob sob - err who's for a sweepstake on when he'll be back?
Back to the pub for lashings of chips, swiss chocolate, chocolate cake and a rousing rendition of the swiss national anthem by our wonderful GM, personally I think "the hills are alive with the sound of hashers" might have been more appropriate but then again I probably don't have my finger on the pulse of appropriateness. Well done Sam, see ya soooooooooon!