Hash 1230

The write-up this week was down to a combination of Gerry and Andy and, with typical hashing efficiency we both wrote the first part and neither wrote the end. So it was decided that, as an experiment we would play the game of using one line each and alternating, without knowing what the other had written. Gerry's text is in Red, Andy's in Blue. So….

Chenies is a long way and is technically just outside
the back side of Paul's car, which we found out contained
the circle we are meant to run in. So smack on your nibbly bits and goodies. Roger gave a rousing
hand to Paul. The evening's virgins were given a good
tongue-lashing while everyone ignored his
run down of the rules……

And so it went on, sadly it was too confusing for our limited brain power and we resorted to plan B.

The Hash started sadly by running along the side, rather than into, the pub and the long-short split was called at (I believe) the second check. The Longs headed north through Mount Wood when mutterings of confused hashers winged about Paul's understanding of what was meant by "Flour on the right." Sadly for the long cutters Paul's understanding turned out to be better than theirs as they headed the wrong way along the wrong trail in a direction that would have led to them meeting the short-cutters coming at them the wrong way.

After over half a mile in the wrong direction the hash split into two – those that thought the solution to not finding any flour was to look at the map, and those that thought they should just look further. Confusion ruled much in the way that Caligula and Nero ruled Rome), but eventually everyone went back the other way, with the map contingent now scratching their collective heads and turning the map upside-dow through 180 degrees.

Several checks back, at a check that had flour in all four directions, two of the experienced longs decided enough was enough and that they would find their own way back to the pub, the rest headed North towards Hanginglane wood and up the gentle climb towards Rose Hall Farm. An enormous circular route, that was entirely flat except for a gentle hill, a less gentle hill and a dirty great steep hill back into Chenies and the Long cutters returned to the pub tired, sweaty and worn out – only to be cheered by the prospect of munchilicious food from the back of Paul's car, followed by a drink (or two) in the pub.

The wiser two hashers who took a direct route straight back to the pub, lost all traces of flour and (according to the GPS afterwards got to within about 400 paces of the pub) before turning back for another two miles. Ahhh well

The Short cutters headed towards Sarratt Bottom (if the long cutters had got that far it would have been a bit of a bummer). However, before they got back to the pub they got the worst of the shiggy and, as the publican has a total ban on anyone with even a hint of mud on their feet, probably had to get clean right through to the souls before entering the hallowed, but thirst quenching Nirvana.

Roger made his speech and Jo knelt before him to be named before her big day. The deep and abiding mystery as to the names Roger picks for his ceremonies (Jo's was something to do with whistles), remains an unfathomed, and possibly unfathomable, enigma.

Thanks Paul and On-On to next week...