Hashes

1291

Date : 28/04/15
Scribe : BigFoot
Hounds : 33     Dogs : 0
Recorded distance : 9.54 km
Recorded time : 83.33 min
Uphillness : 522.80 ft

It was a beautiful evening when we gathered at the Hampden Arms – a little cold for some tastes, but needless to say I was dressed for the occasion in my usual shorts and t shirt. We parked in the field behind the pub, where a bonfire was smouldering away – a bonfire that Whipping Boy parked a little close to, judging by how nervously Louise was glancing over her shoulder at the car.

The Hash was pretty keen to get going for once, seemingly motivated by the slightly lower temperatures, and the second hand smoke inhalation from the bonfire that had yet to engulf Whipping Boy's Ford Fiesta (Louise has just checked – it's still safe). Dick announced that when planning the run, he realised it was a little long, so he'd shortened it, only to find it was still too long, so he created a long, a medium, and a short run. The long was about 6 miles, with the medium and the short somewhat less (a notion that some on the hash have been known to struggle with in the past… you know who you are!).

It was On-On over the road, and out through the fields towards Hampden House, which according to Wikipedia is predominantly Elizabethan, but was remodelled a few centuries ago in a gothic style (whatever this means)… Over a couple more fields, and we arrived at the Long (& Medium)-Short Split. The shorts were sent right up what Google Maps informs me was Rignall Road, with the warning that it was a fast and dangerous road, and they were to be careful. Ian and I later wondered whether this was a ploy to "bump off" a few of the shorts, and safeguard chip supplies for us longs in the weeks to come – Ian had heard that some Blind Biffa Truck Racing was happening on local roads that evening, surely not a coincidence…

We ran up a steep hill, I got told off for walking on an on-back (guess who by), and we soon reached the Long-Medium Split. I set off with the Longs, still a little wibbly (yes, that's a word) from the hill, and commented that I wouldn't mind being carried in a sedan chair for the remainder of the run. The aforementioned on-back police then cracked a joke about my weight, to which it only seemed fair to retaliate by cracking a joke about her height (have you really not guessed who it was yet?). It seemed that the only one making original comments that night was Ian, though I was still trying to work out whether the truck was blind, or the driver, or whether "Blind Biffa" was some kind of euphemism…

While I was puzzling over this, we somehow caught back up to the mediums (Dan seemed most put out by the fact he wouldn't beat us back to the chips), and spotted the shorts in a field, headed the wrong way. The hare didn't seem too concerned about this – perhaps he was more disappointed that the Blind Biffa Trucks had missed their mark. Anyway, this was a great opportunity to get first choice of the chips, so on we went. We soon arrived back at the pub, where Whipping Boy's car had yet to catch fire (though I bet it smelled a bit of smoke on the way home), for some delicious beer and chips. Thanks to Dick and Natasha for a very enjoyable run!