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Archived Trash Q1 2008
Venue The Old Swan
Run No 902
Date March 25th 2008
Hounds 26
Hare Gerry
Scribe the Blonde
Gerry's Birthday Run
Local finds hand out and map from Rapiers and golden braclets run - click here
'What am I doing in Swan Bottom again?' she asks herself. Was this to be another run of Gerry's in the freezing cold with blobs the size of dinner plates? (Ed's Aside, if you don't understand the reference it is that, by coincidence the Blonde's last write up was also about one of Gerry's runs - from the very same pub!, and he used dinner plate size blobs as he was suffering from a surfeit of flour.)
The evening suddenly seemed more positive when the hare announced that I could wear the 21.5 carat gold bracelet ( it was gold not bronze ) he had found at the nearby crossroads: it was gorgeous! The late arrival of a pair of love birds just after the ON-ON- OFF saw the group fluttering into Lee gate across a muddy field. At the 1st Re-group the hare mentioned something about a chap called Abel who wanted me to have a huge rock. WOW! Being afraid it might chip the nail varnish I decided to hang it around the neck using Cassie's lead. I was not best pleased to hear Roger remark that it was 'made in China.' Poof what does he know about Neolithic hallmarks?
Back on the ancient track the SCB's at the rear were caught by a remonstrating woman who was concerned about her horse. The GM tried to explain 'it is a public footpath' but the protest fell on deaf ears. When they finally caught up Gerry was in full flow accounting some stories of children who had found an arrowhead in their school garden and the memorial to the Liberty family (Sir Arthur, founder of the Regent Street store) which was a well 'hung' bell in the local church. The love birds (aka Ryan and Kivey) hovered momentarily apart, caught off the guard the GM roared 'mind the gap.' Strange she thought wasn't that a T-shirt for the London underground? The little birds quickly united and flew off happily towards the beautiful secluded village of The Lee. The trail moved on past the quintessential country local and top-class-Italian restaurant named the Cock & Rabbit.' (sniggering snide remarks from hashers ). The blonde was particularity perturbed because the GM had promised her a sampling 3 yrs previous!
On the last scheduled re group before the L /S split our well informed historian / archaeologist accounted the findings of a local labourer who found a miniature statue of an old man ornamented with pearls…… oh great the blonde thought I'm getting pearls … but then his mood darkened and the story changed to a bronze age rapier that had been used to slice and cut. Ugh!
This is where the run turned ugly. The longs had a free ride home. Us poor SCB's took the mud slide. We picked our way delicately, amidst cursing from Natasha, along the luge that led home to the pub. Memories flooded back of the squelching shiggy that squiggles into your shoes and slipped underfoot. Gerry had once again sent us into the muddiest path since the battle of the Somme. At least no check backs this time but a first 'moose' for intrepid walker Dave.
The long run was partly enlivened by three extra hills and two extra miles and partly by a full twisting moose from the hare with an extra side-helping of blood (modern, not ancient). Jo announced that she had covered her derriere with a series of luminous arrows so that she now had, and I quote “A turbocharged bum,” which encouraged people to shine torches at it to make it flash (Ed's aside, interesting use of the word “flash” that). Why she said and did this is, (possibly fortunately), now lost in the midst of time.
Back at the pub the love birds were twittering in the corner. Thanks Gerry for a masterful lesson on local history & some excellent Stone Age grub washed down with the best Tribute beer for some time.
PS Happy Birthday to our fantastic Hash Tick ROGER!
Venue Royal Oak @ Farnham
Date March 11th 2008
Hounds 28
Hare The GM & the Blonde
Scribe Matt
What a daunting prospect writing the runs report for what amounts to hash royalty, a task which is going to be more difficult as I have not got a scubby do where we went.
I cant tell you much about the pre-hash speech as I arrived late and I missed it but it must have been a good one as I could hear roaring laughter from the far side of the car park as I got changed. (To be honest it may have been the roaring traffic on the A355. I am writing this a few days after the event and my memory is getting a little hazy.)
Our illustrious hares namely the blond and GM lead the pack away north and short way along the A355 which could only mean one destination Burnham Beeches a huge beech wood which in the dark looks like a huge beech wood.
The first re-group is an early long/short split, shorties going with the blond, longs with the GM whom almost immediately gets up to his old trick of deliberately sending the pack the wrong way. By now I am starting to panic what the hell am I going to write about, at times like this, there are only two courses of action – 1 do nothing and when back at home go on line look up Gerry's old run reports and plagiarize his historical facts on King Canutes son etc., or – 2 stick close to Ade and Jo in the hope of picking up a juicy tit bit. True to form Jo, Lenor and Ade were heard to have a deep and meaningful conversation re Flashers. Jo bemoaning the fact she had not seen one, Lenor concerned that she had seen more flashers than you can shake a stick at and Ade chipping in with something about his sticky willy!
Somewhere in the Beeches the longs and shorts re-grouped and swapped hares, the GM taking the shorts and the blond the longs, so no more bullying and dirty tricks. Lesley warned the pack before moving off that the Para military Gestapo, other wise known as the Burnham Beeches Rangers, had been out in force so floor marking had been abandoned in places, unperturbed the longs disappeared into the trees.
Further into the woods an eerie light was glowing deep in the woods so our hare not being the shy and retiring type changed the route and lead the hash straight towards it. As the pack grew closer the light grew brighter and a thick mist started to roll out from between the trees and the vague shapes of figures moving between the trees could be made out. The hash had just crashed the set of a “Midsomer Murders” film crew. Unfortunately as we had left the planned route to get back on it we had to crash off-piste through the undergrowth making more noise and the director angrier.
Back on the right track the brave hounds were rewarded with an Easter egg stop, thankfully the shorties who had been and gone had not scoffed the lot. From here it was just a short way back to the start pass the infamous Farnham Common house of pain. And back in the pub more chills than Lenor can shake a flasher at. Many thanks to our intrepid hares Lesley and David for a memorable run.
Run No 900
Venue The Whip
Date March 11th 2008
Hounds Awaiting
Hare Matt
Scribe Simon AKA Whipping Boy
The eye of the storm, or the lull between two of the worst storms of the winter. Or at least that's what it was supposed to be; instead we arrived at the Whip to find the wind was whipping around (d'you see what I did there?) and Gerry looked like he'd been licking the electricity sockets, hair like an over-excited Little Richard.
Matt explained that, in addition to the regular batch of rules, there were two more hieroglyphs to watch out for - 'CC' which represented 'Chick Check' and referred not to some poultry farming practice but to the fact that it was 'Ladies First' when checking these out; and 'HF' which represented 'Hash Fool', and would involve the pack running on back to the hare, the last to arrive being handed a hat with bells on and made to tell a joke or sing a song.
Having got our collective head around these thrilling variants, off we trotted, having cajoled the hare into giving us a clue or two to get us started. The gales blew us straight along the Chiltern Way with Sam almost immediately being crowned the first of the evening's Hash Fools. He proceeded to regale us all with bawdy tales, risqué ribaldry and a few off-colour and very non-PC music hall numbers, and had us all in stitches.
Then off we went down into Lily Bottom Lane, with the first patch of delightful shiggy to negotiate as we ran past Lily Bank Farm. Here the hash was led up one, then two, then three Pamela Anderson’s, before finally heading along the edge of Monkton Wood. Much confusion at the Chick Check, including a falsie or two (that's False trail, ladies, I wasn't casting aspersions...), before a rather hirsute and deep-voiced female, who I believe answers to the name of 'Geraldine', called us on and down towards Highwood Bottom, and more shiggy galore.
It was the turn of the GM and your 'umble correspondent to play the fool, so we bellowed out a note-perfect rendition of an old hash favorite, 'Roll Out The Barrel'. (I should mention here that the hash collectively owes me a very big favour, as had it not been for my calming influence, the GM would no doubt have chosen to once again pollute our ears and minds with musical recollections of the infamous Dinah...)
Along the bottom, another Pamela, then up hill through the worst of the shiggy and a load of bullocks, yes I said bullocks. Here the shorts skulked off back to the warmth of the pub, whilst us (fool) hardy FRBs plodded on towards Darvillshill. On the way the title of Hash Fool was once more handed on, in this case the floppy hat being placed upon the freely perspiring pate of Dashing Dick. His line was in jokes so corny you could've fed a family of Mexicans for a month on them. On-on through Westcroft Stables, where the hare told us he'd not laid much flour as the owner had complained it made the place look untidy. I was shocked to see one or two blades of grass out of place as well.
Up to The Lodge, then across the Lacey Green road and along a stretch of Grim's Ditch, which ironically was far less grim than some of the places we'd already been through. A few FRBs defected to the SCS and took the direct route, the remainder looping round the houses on the southern edge of Lacey Green then heading towards Promised Land Farm, all the while blasted by winds (no, not what you're thinking, Ade had limped home at this point after turning his ankle). A long, steady climb back out of the valley, then a short stretch of On Inn led us back to the warmth and hospitality of The Whip, commemorative medals (and, more importantly, chips) being dished out to mark the occasion of our 900th hash. Nice one Matt!
Run No 899
Venue Bernards Arm @
Great Kimble
Date March 4th 2008
Hare Simon AKA Whipping Boy
Scribe Sam
Twenty plus hardy competitors lined up on the start of the North Pole marathon. Great anticipation mixed with anxiety filled the air and the runner’s minds as the snow flurries blew in from the dark sky over the frozen wasteland. The temperatures in the sub zeros you could see some runners all bundled up in thermals from head to toe while some others in running shorts and tee-shirts anxiously awaited to start to generate some warms in their bodies. The conversations turned to what possible route we would be forced to take, one or more climbs up the ice cliffs looming up to one side or the frozen plain to the other side. No clue was revealed by the “organizer”, Simon.
The event’s rules were given out by the organizer of the evening’s event with the option of doing a short or long run. Comments were made not to bother with a map for the short runners as they can’t read it anyway and as it was night and almost a full white-out, there was no hope for them following the well marked route anyway. As soon as the last runner (predictably it was Ade) was ready and the rest were not quite frozen, the start signal was given.
The first On On was called down behind the pub, a good start in the direction of the flat plains. I personally would have liked a good hill to warm up my frozen body at the beginning and no have to freeze for the first two miles. After waiting for a single car train (can you call that a train and why is there a train on the North Pole? (Ed’s aside: possibly something to do with Santa) we crossed the railway tracks on the Aylesbury Ring towards Grove Lane. At 1.08 miles the first split for the short and long run was called by Simon, the short cutters going straight (good thinking Simon, less chance for them to get lost), the long right-left-left around the field where we hoped to join the shorties again. We did see them ahead of us but what were they doing in the Kimblewick Farm yard?(Yes, going wrong within 20 yards of Simon pointing out the route for them)
At 2 miles another long/short split was called with the shorties going towards Meadle, which consists of five farms. The longs continued North-west to Kimble Wick with lots of back arrows which in daylight would have given us the chance to see the country side from two directions. As it was dark anyway we just stumbled over the same rough ground in two directions. At Hill View Farm we changed direction South and then South-west where we also crossed the lowest point of our run at 84 meters, down a whole 46 m from the start at 130 m. In Meadle we run into the shorties again coming in our direction not realising that the markers were on their left or they just wanted to do the long run in reverse now to prove they can do it! From here it went through Askett, passed the pub where Rob did his live hash years ago and on across the fields back to Great Kimble and after 7.24 miles I arrived at the warmth of the Bernards Arm. Note: According to my GPS I gained 14 feet in elevation somewhere along the way! (Ed’s aside, doesn’t that make you nearly 20 feet tall Sam?)
Thanks for a good run Simon
Run 898
Date 26 February2008
Venue The Frog @ Skirmett
Hare Sam
Hounds 23
Scribe Andy
I never remember how to get to the Frog. Technically, I never remember how I get back from most pubs, but in this case the map bore no relation to what was actually there, like hills and narrowness and doglegs. So after recognising Jane's car in Lane End I decided to follow her. When she got lost I pulled up alongside her in a darkened lay-by and asked if she was going my way. In retrospect she seemed surprisingly calm, and retracing our steps we arrived at the Frog to a jolly set of Hashers gathering on a chilly night.
Sam the Hare set about describing a highly technical combination of short/longs, short/short/longs and long/short/longs, which mercifully went in one ear and out the other. Oh yes, we shorts can follow a map! and we had one right from the car park, it looked so easy.
So off we went, the first long/short split being in the pub car park so a nice easy start with no keeping up with the FRBs. In fact that was the last we saw of the longs all evening. We heard them of course, we saw lights on distant ridges at high altitude and we spotted the occasional kicked out check. I think Roger was with us for the first part of the run, but if he was he vanished soon like a will o' the wisp. With my journalist hat on in the pub after I asked for comments on the run and was told that Phil drove to the first check, but I can't believe that!
Putting it mildly, it was a hilly Hash. I gave up counting after about five hills, some of which were too steep to stand on unless you had one leg shorter than the other. The short was 3.7 miles according to Sam and at the 2 mile point we became lost and had to become creative. We had a clear map and could hear the shouts of the longs echoing among the valleys around us, which inspired us to meet up with them at some point, but we didn't manage to.
In an effort to find the trail we split up, normally a basic mistake made by teenagers in slasher movies. Given the distant howls of the longs baying for flour it was actually a bit scary. We lost Tracey but could see her light all the time, it never seemed to get any nearer - weird. And of course Barney's trousers walking by themselves in the lights! Whooo went the owls! At any event the longs were having a great time, shouting away in the distance. We could see their lights high up somewhere like Hillary and Tensing tackling the south col of Everest. The benefit to us of getting lost there involved a forced shortcut which brought our distance down to 3.2 miles including checks and on-backs and committee meetings about the route.
But all was not over, we went through Turville and got lost again, finding ourselves in Fingest which we recognised it from a previous Hash from the Chequers! Being such team players we again split up but managed to find the right On-Inn and instead of being DFL as a result of all the poring over maps, as I expected, we were comfortably early to the bar and sampling the delicious beer served in the Frog. The longs presently arrived having completed 6.36 miles including checks. They looked like they had a good run as well they should have going twice as far as the shorts. A great run for the shorts it was and the longs looked well satisfied.
Many thank
Run No 897
Date 19 February 2008
Venue Mayflower @ Penn
Hare Andy
Hounds 33
Scribe Gerry
The Hash gathered fashionably late, as hashes are wont to do, in the Mayflower’s car park on a dark but pleasant winter’s evening. Many were atremble with anticipation.
After the normal round of chat and the somewhat less usual, though very welcome return of Ian, who has retired to live contentedly in Sin in Denmark. (Ed’s note for religious hashers, Sin is a small Danish village about 150km NE of Copenhagen.) (Ed’s note for less religious hashers, is also a lot of fun.)
David called the pack to order, and was promptly ignored, only re-gaining attention when he admitted he wouldn’t be running that evening, or indeed for the next few weeks as someone was thrusting money into his hand to make speeches at, and browbeat, several poor South Africans who really ought to have known better.
The rules of engagement for the evening were pleasantly familiar, as were the gleaming eyes of Jo, who was returning from her mega successful laser eye surgery. (Does anyone know who yelled out to her “were you a good pupil?” – Corny or what!
As predicted, a quick left and right took us into the countryside, whereupon I promptly lost my (admittedly limited) sense of direction and could have been running around in circles for all I knew for the rest of the evening. Sadly a big stretch of flour had been rubbed out (for the second time in four weeks). Fortunately it re-appeared for most of the run, unfortunately lots of people still missed it and went the wrong way anyway. Fortunately their way was shorter, unfortunately I had a map and went the long way.
Us longs split a mile or two into the run for the first of our extra loops, and after ten minutes or so frantically running in the wrong direction I decided to look at the map and realised I was nowhere near where I thought I was, though somewhat surprisingly I was where I was meant to be.
Overheard from a fairly thin hasher “It's not the hours or minutes spent at the table that makes people fat...it's the seconds.”
Ok I know, it’s a sign of age, but reading maps in the dark without glasses is a cross between impossible and well… impossible – and so when I ran off with the map (and great confidence) up the next hill it didn’t actually mean we were going the right way, happily when Dick called the correct way, the hedge between him and the rest of the hash wasn’t too thick and we got away with minor scratches and the odd expletive.
7/5ths of all people do not understand fractions.
After what seemed like an eternity, half of the faster hashers followed Ade and missing a dirty great arrow as they all ran sheep-like after each other. Thus they had to wait for 10 minutes after they short cut while we rejoined them in the middle of a field at the back of Penn.
A swift right turn towards the pub, plus a surprising left took us to an excellent “Bubbles, Cake and Girls in T shirts” stop, with Kerry flirting outrageously with anyone in trousers (Ed’s aside, like all of the best people I hear that Kerry has a strong will but a weak won't) (Ed’s second aside the girls were all wearing trousers too, but it didn’t seem to stop Kerry). Apparently we were celebrating the fact that it wasn’t Mick’s 60th Birthday.
All too soon, the on-in was announced, but turned into the ordeal of “running and burping after drinking Champers” (Ed’s aside: better known as to run like the wind) especially as we didn’t go directly back but took a detour via the local housing estate.
However, all was forgiven due to copious quantities of chips courtesy of Andy.
Yet another great run!
Run No 896
Date 12 February 2008
Venue Stag & Hounds @ Pinkneys Green
Hare Tahir
Hounds 33
Scribe Ken
Well can you believe it? After all the weeks of wind, rain and generally inclement weather the hash has struggled through for what seems an eternity of Tuesday evenings suddenly we have a gloriously sunny day followed by a clear bright evening.
So who’s the lucky hare who has fallen on such good times. Well according to the Hash Trash it’s a secret. So driving to the hash i’m intrigued to find out who. Turns out its Tahir. Now the last time I saw Tahir was maybe two years ago when he did the disco for the hash Christmas do. Anyway Tahir and his family are moving to Cheltenham and he decided he would like to say goodbye by setting a hash. (Personally I'd rather send a card!).
Meanwhile back at the pub, The Horse and Rabbit or something like that, the throng assembled waiting instructions from our Gloucestershire bound hare. Once advised to look to the left for flour ect we set off up Lee Lane and onto the Green that is Pinkneys Green.
We ran across the Green and I chatted to Roz who told me that Wain was suffering at home with a dislocated shoulder, having run out of momentum on a take off ramp on his mountain bike when somebody got in the way. Apparently instead of soaring magnificently in the air he just sort of dropped off the end off the ramp. Get well soon Wain!
On we ran crossing Pinkneys Drive through many twists and turns of a housing estate, lungs bursting and muscles aching (well mine anyway). Eventually catching up with the short cutters at the Bath Road.
The shorties started off up the Bath Road towards Maidenhead chatting and laughing as they went while the longies dashed off on the move convoluted route down Cannon Lane gasping for breath Eventually we regrouped and made our way to an impromptu stop at Tahir’s house.
Now it never fails to amuse me to see what a moaning lot hashers are, they are only happy when they’re having a good whinge. So when presented with a wonderful spread of plates of Samosas, chips and other goodies plus drinks by Tahir and his wife one hasher was heard to say “we’ll never get back if we eat that lot”. Well eat that lot they did.
There was some reluctance but eventually we got back on the road, Westbrooke road to be precise, finally re-crossing the Bath Road then heading North West in the general direction of the pub. You remember, The Fox and Feret I think its called. It was just about this time that my left calf muscle which has been ‘niggling away’ for some weeks decided to play up big time, so I thought I’d be nice to it and let it walk the rest of the way back (good excuse eh!. I told Tahir what I was planning to do and watched as the rear of the hash disappeared up Pinkneys Road. I thought to myself that I could really do with one of Gerry’s Mesolithic barrows right now and somebody to wheel me back into the pub in it (Ed’s aside Extra brownie points for the neat wordplay!)!, but alas it was not to be.
I limped my way back to the Swan and Hounds only to find the shorties still hadn’t returned, Mike had led them astray as only Mike can, but I could tell they were happy because they were all having a really good whinge.
Good Hash Tahir, good luck in your move, look out for Berni and Yob
Run
No 895
Date 5 February 2008
Venue Royal Oak @ Stokenchurch
Hare Ken
Hounds 33
Scribe Gerry
To be fair Ken did have a map he said he could give to me in the pub afterwards. Sadly I didn't get to the pub afterwards as I had to work. Net result – I have no idea where we went. Sadder still, as I was away at an archaeology conference all weekend, my head is stuffed with useless, if interesting old stuff and I can't remember much about the run. So, it is just possible I may have to make some of this stuff up. I hope nobody notices.
The evening's entertainment started somewhat earlier than normal with people driving around the incredibly narrow roads near the pub in ever increasing circles, trying to find a parking space. Most people circled anti-clockwise but, not wishing to be totally sheep-like, I went clockwise. Net result, chaos, delay and frustration as the roads aren't wide enough for two cars to pass in opposite directions. Still only one hasher nearly drove into me – and she will remain nameless. OK, it wasn't really a she, but it is much more entertaining poking fun at women drivers and it gives me an excellent theme for this week's cartoons.
The rules were mercifully brief but after tha, the hash went rapidly downhill. Down past Mallards Court to be precise. The house is named after Robert Malet, who in 1279 owned a virgate of land - which is irrelevant but gives me the opportunity to use the word “virgate” for the first time in a runs report.
Unfortunately that was the last downhill I remember all evening – all the rest was uphill, then up another hill, then up several more, Technically there may have been a downhill somewhere but I don't remember it. Mainly 'cos of the mental and physical distress cause by all of the uphills.
We veered into Hawing Wood where Lenore told me the story of a lady hasher who died and the hash used her ashes to mark the trail for a run!
From there we went (up) through Lott Wood and on to the wonderfully named “The Grubbin” wood. Something tinkled (and it wasn't Ade) in the back of my mind about this name so I looked it up on Google. Lo and behold I found it – Google led me right back to a runs report I wrote in 2005 about Lenore's hash from the same pub!
So, somewhat older but none the wiser, we ran up yet another hill. The main difference being that this one was even muddier and much, much longer than the last one. Because people were beginning to string out a re-group was called in the middle of a wood. While waiting, we found Howard, who jovially admitted that he was hiding behind a tree at the time. To be fair he did have a reason for this. To be unfair I am not going to tell you what it was. But never mind, it's far more entertaining making up your own reasons anyway!
After that we ran around
in the dark and mud for a while, I think that the short cutters short cutted
somewhere.
Then at exactly 9.00, while standing in a particularly muddy puddle, Ken announced
that it was precisely two and a half miles back to the pub but there was a
short cut of a mere one and a half miles. What he didn't mention (but I found
out) was that the 1.5 miles was up one of the steepest and muddiest hills
yet and the 2.5 miles would have been far easier.
We eventually found ourselves in the valley that wanders along to Bennets End and which is the site of not just one but two little known Mesolithic barrows. One almost exactly where we came out, the other nearly a mile away by a bend in the road to the City.
Ken had cunningly saved the worst, most savage and steepest slippery hill until the very end and so received the lifetime curses of a bunch of weary, muddy hashers, who were forced to drink their troubles away in the pub afterwards.
I am never quite sure if saying that the hash captured the true spirit of hashing is a compliment or a vile condemnation. But it was, very much a true hash!
Run
No 894
Date 29 January 2008
Venue Old Sun, Lane End
Hounds 33
Hare
Gerry
Scribes Phil
So far in 2008 there have been 4 hashes of which 2 have already been changed from the original schedule. Gerry continued this year’s trend by swapping with Ken for tonight’s run.
We assembled in the car park and greeted no less than 3 new hashers to our international line up; John from Wisconsin, Marte from Norway and Mark from Ripon. Gerry (from Wycombe) then explained to the incredulous and increasingly confused rabble that tonight there were no fewer than 10 different routes including very short, nearly very short, short, short medium, medium, long medium, long and very long (and some others too). Just before we could sprint off into the darkness Helen arrived looking very smart to tell us that tonight she was meeting with her horsey friends and couldn’t be arsed to come out to play with us. (I did notice that she managed to drag herself away from her new friends when it was time to meet back in the pub later though!)
Waving good bye with appropriate good wishes to Helen, off we went down the hill toward Frieth and left across Moor Common, making a steady pace at which Dave managed to keep with us while walking! After twenty minutes or so the pack was still all together and we began to wonder if Gerry was pulling our legs and there was only really one route. However, split we did with the grateful shorties turning right along the road while the rest of us plunged across the road into the darkness of the woods.
At the next long short split large amounts of peer pressure were brought to bear such that no one was allowed to take the medium route, much to Natasha’s disappointment. Gerry managed to surpass himself and, as well as the most routes on one hash, must also be up for the prize for the hash with the largest number of back checks. There was much grumbling and complaining from the ladies at the girls back check soon to be followed by more grumbling at the (predictable) boys back check. After a very enjoyable blast around the woods one or two of the pack with more keen observation noticed that we were retracing our steps back to the long / medium split that we had passed about 20 minutes earlier. However, it was left to Ros to observe “haven’t we been here before, we must have done a loop” to ironic cries from the rest of the pack.
I finally realised where we were as we climbed back up towards Lane End and around the back of the cottages where Sam used to live. The rest of the pack also started to smell the beer and set off on a bee-line back toward the pub only to be called back by Gerry who had set a cunning little loop around the church, which Ade did twice before appearing through the church yard to rejoin the rest of us.
Meanwhile, the sensible members of the pack had been finding even more short cuts and shedding shorties, until having to regroup for Mummy to hold Ryan’s hand to take him back to the pub.
Safely back in the Old Sun, Natasha kindly treated us all to flapjack and muffins for her birthday as we tucked into some very welcome refreshment from the Tring Brewery. As it was Tosca night we had the pleasure of another of our beloved GM’s speeches and Maggie was rewarded for her “moose in the mire” at her own run a couple of weeks ago.
Thanks to Gerry for another
good hash.
Run
No 893
Date 22 January 2008
Venue Royal Standard @Wooburn Common
Hare Phil
Hounds 32
Scribes Maggie and Jane
It just isn’t fair - Phil gets the nice dry night when we were the magnanimous ones doing the swap! but we all know how exciting THAT night was - didn’t Phil miss a treat! And WE got tee-shirts for it! Excellent write up Mick!
So, as the hare disappeared into the darkness at 19.40 calling back over his shoulder “have a good hash!’ we wondered what we were in for ... a hareless hash? Apparently, it was a ‘semi-live hash”? - still haven’t quite got all the jargon.
Kaivy was welcomed as
the first, third generation hasher - from the Copes family. Also there was
great interest in the arrival of Daddy Nick, who apparently has the perfect
two and half week old baby. She sleeps through the night already .... ”just
get her tanked up and she sleeps through” . Come on Ad´é`e`E`ee`le
(Nick - we tried with the accent) what are you playing at, that’s just
not what babies do...
So off we set at the GM’s command (he that must be obeyed) and found the trail to the right and down the lane. After admiring several ducks by the pond, another right brought us to Odds Farm (Home to many rare species). The clue was to find the ‘piggeries’ but no piggeries were found. We all wondered around aimlessly looking for flour. Watch out, we might get caught, hashers are a rare species after all!
Eventually, the on-on was called down a tucked away footpath and an arrow for late comers was laid by a mystery hare. “Why didn’t we see that!” cried a voice, who thought it had been there all the time.
Fortunately for the latecomers, who couldn’t find the pub and for those who went to their rescue, the mystery hare did a good job. They caught up eventually, after we had passed through a mobile home park (DOGS ON LEADS NEXT TIME PLEASE -mobile park rules), done one long- short split and rejoined at Hicknaham Farm. Here Roger became very assertive, calling the shorts back, while they were searching for flour down the road.
Kerry and Roger had some friendly hash-rage before continuing on into Boveney Wood, for another long- short split. Together again down Abbey Park Lane, (Ed’s aside, Do you mean Roger and Kerry? Does Roz know?), to a road junction where another long-short split was on offer. “You can be back at the pub by 8.40” said the GM, its just down there somewhere and turn left at the church.........
But we were enjoying ourselves too much. The run had been remarkably dry and soft underfoot, Phil had found the ultimate run for such a wet winter month so on we ran together, longs and shorts in perfect harmony, (well almost - let’s face it some are slower than others, hence the back arrows to be endured). However, we had been lulled into a false sense of security, we hit one of those paths where one foot goes one way and the other foot goes the opposite way - bit tricky and very annoying. Perhaps the short cut would have been a better option!
As we headed across a field, we were distracted from yet more shiggy by the rumour of the week - according to Helen - Roger and Audrey are stealing Nick and Jasmine’s baby and moving to Bognor ..... you may add to the story and pass it on ....
The hash then became ‘live’.
The hare was discovered
resting casually on a stile, wondering what had kept us. He directed us on
towards the Blackwood Arms but it was in darkness - in and out. What? closed
on a Tuesday - so no rest here. On across Littleworth Common with the twinkling
lights of the Jolly Woodman looking tantalisingly close through the trees,
again no rest here! Come on you lot - this is a hash - not a pub crawl.
On! On! continuing on the Beeches Way back to Wooburn Common Road. The shorts could smell the beer but the longs had yet another loop to complete to get back to the pub.
Abandoned by the ‘live’ hare, they ‘sprinted’ through Sheepcote Woods and a lake (recommended by the hare for shoe cleaning but not good for the white socks). The shorties, meanwhile, tracked straight back down the road, in true shortie style, to get to the bar first.
However, the longs were there in no time. Just as they were all stripped off to underpants in the car park, (well Ade anyway) much to the surprise of a passing lady, the rain finally arrived - does Phil have divine contact in high places or just the Met office? No matter, a good hash, great beer (GM really enjoyed his!) and lovely chips - we were all happy.
Run
No 892
Date 15th January 2007
Venue Beech Tree @Terriers
Hounds 20
Hare Maggie, Dave & Jane
Scribe Mick
“Hello, is that the Met. Office” “Yes Sir, how can I be of assistance to you” “my name is Phil Crookes and I’m with HWH3 and I want to know what the weather is going to be like on Tuesday 15th January please”
“HWH3, is that the mad bunch who run round in all weather shouting “On on” and “Come on, come on” “Yes, that’s us|” “OK. Well, as far as I can tell from the satellite it is going to chuck it down big time – I mean biblical portions”
“Thank you ------------------ Maggie, hello, it’s Phil. Any chance of swapping run dates with you ------------“
Arriving at the pub there were two immediate things which struck me. Firstly the lack of hashers and secondly the reason for this apparent lack of victims – it was absolutely chucking it down big time. The last time Maggie & Jane set a run, guess what, it chucked it down and the form book held true as the rain got heavier by the minute.
The hardy (and probably incredibly stupid) few gathered under the miniscule smoker’s canopy together with the customer – yes there was only one, who was busy poisoning himself. Clearly the publican does not cater for large numbers of customers who enjoy a drag and a cough.
After a brief prologue delivered by Dave, we were off straight down the footpath behind the pub which Maggie had, quite correctly, already described as a river. After but 100 yards or so sploshing through the torrent Maggie took off and executed a superb forward dive, very much like when footballers score a goal, except there was of course no goal. Still 10 out of 10 for style and certainly one of the quickest nose dives ever. Fortunately not too much damage to half our team of intrepid harettes.
We carried on through varying consistencies of mud and water, skirting Totteridge housing and on down into King’s Wood with the conditions, if possible, continuing to deteriorate. In the short time we had been running, encounters with ankle deep puddles and mud had already rendered any attempts to keep ones pinkies dry totally useless.
Continuing through the sludge further into the woods, a unanimous decision was taken to chop a bit off so we took a left cutting off the cunning long loop set by Jane & Maggie. Somewhere along here a deep depression ( I was suffering from deep depression by this stage) was encountered and Jo confessed to BMXing here in her youth – you sure it wasn’t last week Jo?
More mud, sludge and ankle deep water with a couple of rivers roaring down what had been footpaths. At a check – yes miraculously some of Tesco’s finest was still there – we split with most of the sodden crew taking the high path and Maggie and I sticking to the haul road along the valley bottom.
We met up at a junction and then took a right onto a path up between housing, on through some very fancy housing to emerge, eventually, on the A404 opposite The Crown, where we crossed the road and squelched across the recreation ground to that most wonderful of things, a short/long split.
Here us shorties went left towards Terriers Farrm whilst the mad longs, ably marshalled by Jane went right on a loop (Ed’s aside: swim, not loop Mick) past Grange Farm.
The run down across open land was one of the wettest in the history of HWH3 with the fields and paths largely submerged. Maggie was peering through the gloom to spot the tell tale telephone pole which, duly spotted, led us onto the trail towards the "on-inn" which had very kindly turned into a lake in the small copse nearing the road.
Struggling bedraggled across the road we finally reached the pub where drenched outfits were changed and socks abandoned on the pub doorstep. Inside at last where Aud relayed the news from home that her kitchen resembled Niagra Falls. This, it transpired, was a slight exaggeration on Jade’s part being in reality the ingress of a trickle of water caused by a blocked drain.
Barney and Moose trailed in having arrived late, in the case of Mr.B because he had gone to the wrong pub, in the case of The Horizontal Hasher, he had forgotten his running shoes. Dumkopf !!
Chips, beer and good
company and suddenly the evening seemed a whole lot better. Thanks to Jane,
Maggie and Dave for an interesting hash. Next time you set I’m bringing
oilskins and a rubber dinghy !!!
Run
No 891
Date 8th January 2007
Venue White Lion @ Cryers Hill
Hounds 34
Hare Mick
Scribe Roger
The omens were not good on Tuesday night. For most of the day, the heavens had opened and moisture was in abundance all around. Fortunately, by the time of our Hash, most of the moisture in the air was on the ground and we could enjoy the open air in relative dryness.
On arriving at the Three Horseshoes, it appeared that our pack had taken over the pub judging by the fullness of the car park. That was encouraging. A quick head count suggested more than 30 hounds were present, which I thought was very good considering.
Our hare that night was Mick. Even though he had shown great enthusiasm by laying the trail at 6 o'clock that morning, the chance of any trail remaining for us to follow seemed bleak.
Notwithstanding, across the Marlow road we went and into fields. As suspected, Bucks clay had become Bucks grease after the downpour. Sliding, not running, become the order of the day.
 |
After a short distance, I just avoided sliding into Helen, who was preening her friend. A mane falling into eyes was being transformed into a ponytail held high. But then the pony resisted as Helen went into automatic and tried to reach for the girth strap. “I can't stand anything bouncing up and down on my head”, said her friend (pictured). I know how you feel, but in my case it is my stomach. |
On to the first
check at Juniper Hill. We milled around exchanging New Year pleasantries until
rebuked by the GM, not realising that this was the first of the long/short
splits. So off up the hill I went, through a vegetarian tunnel towards Wymers
Lodge and the junction with path GM54. Here, we dithered a while, awaiting
the remnants of the last split, before plunging downhill again, losing all
of the altitude that we had worked hard to gain. Cunning hare.
This brought us to suburbs of Marlow Bottom where we rejoined the main trail.
The local denizens were hidden out of sight behind closet doors and velvet
curtains, so it was safe for us to plough through the estate to Marlow Bottom
road.
Here, I jumped into the road, then back to the pavement with alacrity as a car bore down on me. That will teach me to do two things at once, talking and running. Having safely reached the safety of the other side, the Hare improvised a route across open ground before getting back to public byways on GM47.
We skirted around some small woods before hitting Seymour Plain. As this is quite an unusual name, I thought I would find out how it came to be and came across this extract of a comment in the BFP.
“Building a skate park on the flood plain seems a little silly whatever measures are taken to increase the flooding capacity of the ground. I expect we will be reading the headline “New skate park flooded” a few days after it opens!
The youth of today have so much, the more they have the more they want. Not content with a skateboard they now want a skate park built for them. When I was a child we never had skateboards, we had to make our own toys from what ever we could find, we were lucky to get an old bicycle wheel and a stick to roll it around with to keep us amused.
I hope the cost of constructing the skate park isn't going to come out of our council tax money when there are so many other urgent priorities for WDC at the moment?”
Beware, Super Cooper, he might live near you.
Once more to Marlow Bottom road, and the end of the Hash seemed nigh. Fat chance. A right fork took us up the hill again on GM50 only to fall straight back down again to Wycombe Road.
Was the end nigh again? Fat chance. Back up the hill on GM19 where we came across the SCers wending their way to Pump Lane North.
 |
Left
to the pub? It was a no brainer. Go right of course, down, down again
to go left and up, up Monkton Lane with the gentle burr of the by-pass
traffic on our right. Thanks to the Hare for his early morning travails on such a night |
Run
No 890
Date 1st Jan 2008
Venue Hampden Arms @ Hampden
Hounds 36
Hare Roger
As a member of the South Herts Hash, I was asked by the Hare to write a brief, guest-report, of the HASH on New Year's Day. As I was singled out by the Hare, I was only too glad to oblige.
In order to avoid ridicule, and worse still suffer a forfeit, from my own HASH I would like to remain anonymous.
The day started well. The weather was fair and the timing of the start of the HASH was perfect, as I knew that I would have time afterwards to eat in the lovely Hampden Arms.
We gathered in the one of the many car parks awaiting the Hare's triumphant entrance. There were a great number of adult Hashers and a goodly sprinkling of Hashlings, all champing at the bit. L'nor had done her job well advertising the fare to follow.
Right on cue, the Hare arrived. I knew immediately that it he was the Hare because of the cut of his jib. I am not a great lover of ships, but if I were, he would have been the admiral's flagship. Hash rules were clearly explained, only differing slightly from our own, but maybe it was the way that they were imparted to us. Like a well oiled machine, we filed off after the first call ON ON.
The way lead across open fields, only a little slippery underfoot. Considering the weather conditions earlier that week, the Hare had chosen expertly to minimise the effects. At frequent intervals, the leaders of the pack ran to the back. No argument, no fuss as we ran neatly as a pack.
Along the way, we came across neighbours of the Hare. All bade him “Happy New Year” with a cheery smile, we replied in like manner, revelling in the festive spirit. Even tiny Tim was in good heart. We swept around St Mary Magdalene church in good voice and out across snow crusted fields. Sheep with their new borne lambs pawed at the ground searching for food, but still found time to gaze in awe at us. And the Hare.
The way led us to Hampden Farm, where the Hare found time to gently and carefully guide some of our flock back to the Hampden Arms, as the babe in arms was beginning to tire. Not many would have found the time and had the patience to do that.
From field to enchanted wood. Here
we missed a turning and ran on another quarter mile before we were gathered
up. The Hare had waited at a check, but to no avail. Ignoring the pain, he
ran after us and eventually stopped our itinerant wandering. But no shouting
or swearing. Like a good parent, he just pointed out the error of our way
and guided us back to right path. Grateful, we ran on.
Time after time, we ran the wrong way at checks, convinced of the next move.
But the Hare continued to trick us. We were no match as we zigged and zagged
our fluffy tails back home. The last twist was 20 back, followed by 08 back.
Happy New Year, 2008. What a jape.
The final instruction of the Hare's succinct briefing had been to rally at the grey BMW before going into the Hampden Arms. Someone from High Wycombe group ran past. It transpired he did not know what a BMW was. Silly boy Pike.
There, the Hare treated all to a feast of home made mince pies (courtesy of Jamie Oliver) with brandy cream, plum cake and Stollen cake. There were even treats for the Hashlings.
Afterwards, in the pub, I came across L'nor. It seems that for some while she has been moonlighting as the consultant's right hand man in the Fertility clinic. Now that new rules of disclosure of seed source are in force, demand has reduced and it is harder to keep in shape. But, as luck would have it, when visiting the USA recently, she found a new torch at a bargain price. Now, she can stay in top condition and reduce her carbon footprint. Bliss.
Thanks to the wonderful Hare for a wonderful run and thanks also to High Wycombe for the invitation to run with the Hare.
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