After struggling to get the hare to commit to which direction we were heading off & having missed the beginning of my hash last week, I thought it only fair to commence the nights waltz with a hearty on on, however as usual my mouth had engaged before brain & I was quickly rumbled when it turned out I had not one clue which way we were supposed to be heading. Fortunately I was not the only fool of the evening.
Anyways, off we sped gently gravitating towards Barney's abode with hopes of an early drink stop to halt this tomfoolery in its infant tracks, alas it was not to be, instead the flour guided our way across the foot swelling field & the second crossing of the Chiltern line, pausing momentarily to remove field from feet before echoing under the bridge to Park Mill.
Swiftly onwards (or backwards for the many on-backers) we trudged past chateau twat in a hat, through field & across tarmac before once again crossing said Chiltern line again – maybe Barney was getting bored of collecting the weekly hoard of cash from us & wanted to whittle our numbers down to a more accountant friendly figure, luckily for us he got the timing all wrong & there was not a train to be seen or heard all night. Once we were on the wrong side of the tracks the shorts got all uppity & left taking the shortest (& slowest) route back to base in preparation for gorging themselves on cakes & chips.
Meanwhile having fannied about attempting to safely cross the A4010 the longs were soon drawn into Barney's "hash culling trap", luckily I was up front with the FRB's & we had already skipped our way through Collins Farm before Mr & Mrs Angry Farmer awoke from their cider induced dreams (tip for the future Barney – don't pay your cohorts with cider in future) & halted the stragglers in their path with accusations of leaving gypsy signs & non informing of passive aggressive land owners of impending use of footpath by humans content. Something else, or should I say someone else, in our
favour was the GM who with flour bottle in hand bravely defeated said PALO by speaking in hash gobbledygook until the PALO scarpered muttering threats of arrest for wasting police time. All hail Roger our mighty GM.
Whilst waiting for the conflict behind us to subside the FRB's rested under a tree & marvelled at the yellow orb that sank low in the sky & pondered such difficult conundrums as which came first the bench or the tree? Alas the chattering class eventually came into earshot recounting tales of police helicopters circling the Chilterns, which kept us entertained for the remaining stroll whilst the FRB's got eggy about regroups & the chattering class got eggy about onbacks, hey ho what would Tuesday night be like without a bloody good moan.
Speaking of which those chips & cakes were bloody good & in such vast quantities that I feel it necessary to record as this week's scribe that, take a seat it is quite shocking…… Mike left BEFORE all the chips had been eaten. My only assumption in this matter is probably best not repeated in public #don'taskmeIreallyhavenoidea