Date : 01/04/14
Scribe :
Hounds : 41     Dogs : 0
Recorded distance : 10.98 km
Recorded time : 101.00 min
Uphillness : 0.00 ft

A nursery rhyme for the Hash, based on the last few weeks.

Jack and Jill went up the hill
And gave the Hashers no quarter
Paul fell down (again) and broke his crown
And Ant came tumbling after

Up Ant got, to Stoke did trot (which was very fast)
With Sarah hard berating 
And went to Nurse, who Stitched his head
With care, and not much waiting


Well, not exactly Jack and Jill, more Jackie and Jill, as we had two does as hares. But not in the same sex marriage sort of way (doesn't bear thinking about, does it?) More the "right, I'm in control" sort of dominatrix.

I was a little late getting to the George & Dragon, arriving just in time to see that something special was planned for the hounds, but not knowing what. The clocks have just gone forward, making it a pleasant change to be able to see who my fellow hounds were.

On on we thronged towards the garden centre, with no sign of mud yet. Then the sight of Kevin standing in a check circle, looking nervous. The number in the circle was 4 and Kev was the fourth hound to reach the circle, so he was it.

Our hare grins (compassionately, not maniacally) as she approaches him, holding out a fan of envelopes. Kevin passes the first test by choosing an envelope upon which is a question.

And what a question. A question from hell, but not about hell. Kevin passes and is given a pointy party with the letter "D" on it.

To be fair, it was never explicitly stated by the hares what the "D" stood for, if it stood for anything. Just Kev's performance, as with every other hasher after him, lead us to assume it stood for "Dunce". Not very PC, and would be frowned up in the modern educational system, but hash rules do state that the hare is always right, so no appeal can be made.
The ignominy did not end there, for upon opening the envelope, one found a forfeit. Oh for the night to swallow me up. There was nothing to do but swallow one's pride and perform.
The only bright (dim?) spot in all of this was Dick's performance. He had prior knowledge of the answer and still got the question wrong. A pointy hat for him as well.
And he carried on getting the questions wrong. So much so that by the end of evening he resembled a party punk rocker.
Then another dunce, another forfeit, and we were On-on up the hill via WW1 to Great Cockshoots Wood. Our virgin hashers performed well up the hill, perhaps worried that failure might lead to some other, worse, hash ritual.

To our right we could see the source of the Wye in all its magnificence. It was whispered that the villages of Saunderton and West Wycombe were coming to blows, sort of "green welly brigade confronts Dashwood's cavaliers", all over water. 
Seems Saunderton was flooding, so the fire brigade came to the rescue and transported the water to the West Wycombe, which then flooded. The villagers then clashed with each other, but really the problem lay elsewhere. Up the hill where the RAF were pumping out a flooded cavern. (isn't that where Yob works? Alles klar.) Succinctly paraphrased, perhaps, as "Never was so much flowed to so many by so few".

Where we went after that is a bit hazy. Could be dementia. Could have been out in the dark without a map.

I think we went downhill to a farm, crossed some roads and climbed up a hill. Along t'ridge to another farm and downhill again to the Red Lion (closed on Tuesdays).

No sign of flooding in Bradenham, so that's alright then. We might have passed Averingdown Farm going up. Maybe not.

What I do remember is that we ran down by the Golden Ball on an adverse camber, because it was so uncomfortable, and somehow appeared at the Garden Centre again.

On Inn, Oh joy. - Loads of chips on real plates greeted us. 
Thank you Natasha and Nickey. Great Hash. No mud. It was a pleasure being in your capable hands.