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ARCHIVED TRASH -Q3 2008
Run: 929 What links the hash with Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby? Answer at the end of the runs report, what makes a good hash? Venue: Beer: Food: Football on telly: We gathered at pub, thin on the ground of hashers expected, no wonder it was sodden and cold. The rules were given out, flour and yellow chalk to find, not given out by the hare but another, what haz he got Lazzee!!! Not a good start, half the hash got lost going the wrong way still within sight of the pub. What was Ade doing near Downley on a week day morning very early? (I have spies everywhere). Don't say you were running 'cos you were standing by a street corner, not soliciting again trying to sell some dodgy rubber devices? Past a thermally heated rail and post for the 'orses. We had a session rolling bales in a field, more practice please Lenor you need more muscles - see we country folk are used to it! We hashed through shiggy the longs going one way, the shorts splitting up with the short sub-committee setting our pub tracer Barney on pub setting, we found home almost instantly. Helen was on rampant mode on the run, bucking around, Helen don't play it too keen,'tis the country air dat causes it. Well done Mike on a good hash look forward to 'yer next one.
Run:927 So this was the evening when I realised I really had been stitched up...It started with Phil having to work late at the office, but trying to avoid disappointing Sarah and her friend Emma, who had promised Audrey that they would come and do the hash. This meant that I had to step in and go for another short run - having already been out before breakfast that morning (I know I had promised myself I would get more exercise but this was going a bit far!). Well, despite having to pick up Emma (who it turns out Audrey already knew - is there anyone in the area she doesn't know?) we still made it to the Crown before the hares, but the hash was soon called to order and off we set looking for flour, or was it toilet roll? Audrey had warned of a very steep hill, and it wasn't long before we appreciated what she meant. Thank goodness it hadn't been raining in the last few days - as it was several of the hounds, and the dogs, struggled to get down. And it was then, as we waited at Bennett End, and Gerry asked where Phil was, that it dawned on me I would have to do the hash write up in his absence. I really don't know how he keeps managing to avoid it! Anyway - once regrouped we set off up the hill to the first long/short split - only a small one which gave me chance to catch my breath, and then on together through Town End and the churchyard. Predictably I heard the yelps of two thirteen year old girls suddenly realising they were running over gravestones in the night (and they are currently reading a book about Vampires and forests at school - bad timing!) At the next long/short split I decided I would take the girls on the short, even though no one else was going, as I wasn't sure how long we would be able to keep up - and there was another chance to regroup later. The long short split was chaotic, nobody knew where to go, or even that it was any more than a regroup. The hares were nowhere to be seen. Eventually they arrived mumbling and staring at a map. Two minutes later Tracey turned the map the other way up and stared some more. However, all attention was on Jo, who seemed to be holding one ear, leaping round in circles and jumps, and uttering screams of “Eeek” very, very loudly. A few bounces later she became more coherent (but more mysterious) by yelling “I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you” into the night. Having just run through a graveyard by moonlight, rumours of demonic possession began to circulate. But no! it turned out that it was just her father phoning her to say that she wasn’t an auntie yet. Most people would take this lack of news with a calm and indifference bordering on nonchalance, but Jo seemed to feel it required much bubbling over and excitement. (To the unknowing it must be explained that Jo’s sister-in law was pregnant and expecting a baby to pop out at any moment.) On the whole, despite the early fears of a dark and satanic possession complete with vampires and possibly werewolves, the pack rather enjoyed the entertainment. A long, slow loop later, with much going in wrong directions the long and short cutters seemed to coalesce into a single pack with nobody noticing the join. It looked like I had inadvertently taken a wrong turn on the shortcut which actually enabled us to join up with everyone else for another loop. Despite the fact we were at the end of Emma's road, we jogged on to the final long/short split where a now significant number of short-cutters (and a hare) decided on a steady walk back to the Crown. The long cutters turned off to the left with Sam leading the way in some style. And, when we got to the aforesaid stile he announced that he was going to go the long way again, no matter that it was felt that the trail took a much shorter route. He asked if anyone wanted to join him and the whole pack obligingly followed as, at least, it seemed he knew where he was. Numerous fast hills and miles later we arrived back at the pub. Tired but with no more fits of rabid ecstasy from Jo (who I assume was by then too tired for whatever spirits that possessed her to give her another trance). The Crown was welcomingly spacious on our return. It had been a lovely evening, dry and relatively warm. The GM entered with lots of leftover birthday cake, which was scrummy and made up for the fact I had to leave before the chips which were rumoured.......next time Phil sets the hash I really must make a diary note not to be around the next week - and more importantly to make sure he is!"
Run:926
Matt made it to 200 runs on this run and was awarded a Vampire T shirt based on the movie below
Run:925 Le De Spencer? What kind of name for a pub is that? Best do some research... or ask Gerry - he'll probably know.
Run:923 Tuesday morning, check website for tonight’s location. Ibstone hum! Could be hilly, the contours on the ordinance survey map for the Ibstone resemble a bowl of spaghetti, check hare Ken! Definitely will be hilly, mental note to self. Pack crampons, carabineers; rope and oxygen bottle. Check weather forecast, height of a typical British summer, chucking it down. The now web footed hashers gathered at a very posh looking pub The fox, (mental note to self No. 2 should also have packed, lounge suit.) Ken now dried out after setting the hash, early that day explained the usual rules and pointed out the route was marked with a mixture of flour and rice! Not sure that rice is a good idea with all the rain this summer, it’s bound sure to start growing. Ken will single handled be held responsible for, The Hambleden Valley being covered in terraced paddy fields. Once the On-On had been called, Twist felt compelled to mark the trail in his now traditional style 100m out from the start, much to the distress of Jo, who is now havening to under psychiatric counselling to cope with the stress. It’s probably just as well; Jo was not involved in Rogers conversion, regarding the various merits of animal bowel movements. Apparently a cat’s digestive system is relatively inefficient, leavening there waste product’s, nutrient rich, which is why dogs like to eat them. Well I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Roger, but I think it might only be your dog which has a taste for these particular delicacies; most other dogs are just content to roll in it. Once the route left the Ibstone road it went down passed Cholsey Grange to Penley Wood, before the inevitable, uphill to Studdridge Farm. The pre-hash talk had warned that there might not be too much flour/rice, to find, but there seemed to be plenty of the white stuff, to mark the route well. Back on top of the Ibstone Road ridge, there could only be one way to go and that’s down, down through Bowley’s wood to Wellground Farm and on to one of the Getty estate road’s, which gave us a short respite from the hills. After crossing, the Chiltern Way, with a bit more descent; through Hale Wood, I did an unimpressive moose but with a particularly spectacular 4m slide - and I still bear the scars to prove it. The steepest accent was saved for last, a torturous climb through Great Wood, up onto Ibstone Common, a 100m climb, but only 300m from the pub. Back in the Fox we were treated to chips, which must have been deep fried in white truffle oil, for what Ken had to fork out for them, but very much appreciated. Many thanks, Ken for a great run. Sorry that my rambling has not done it justice.
Run:922 Thanks Jo for kick-starting the hash trash, I’d like to think of an elaborate excuse but ‘I’ve been too busy adding up’ is the best I can come up with! So here’s Jo’s hash trash with my added extras in bold! Jo… over to you. Well, another typical British summer's evening…grey and damp!! But that didn't dampen the spirits of the regulars, and some newbies, to the Tuesday night hash in Hurley. Now, I'm not sure if the newbies were virgins to HWH3, or pure-as-the-undriven-snow-hashing-virgins, or had in fact been once or twice before and we'd missed them due to our own absence (due to holidays, back injuries, colds, blisters, eye appointments or any other excuse we have come up with lately). How did Matt manage to book the thunder, lightening and torrential downpours at the same pub 2 years running? Note to self, if Matt picks the same venue next year make sure you’re due to be indoors that day. The reason we don't know the status of the unfamiliar faces is we missed the pre-hash blurb. We did however learn from the prompt bods that the long run tonight was 10 miles. While Helen jumped with joy at the prospect, I nearly fainted and was tempted to stumble back to my car for a sit down. But I managed to control my fear, and we set off once the on-on had been called. I must admit, tempting as a 10 mile run sounded, I was worried that the shorts might get back and scoff all the chips! Off we trotted leaving The Rising Sun behind in the gloom. Having the bearings of a flea, I have no idea where we went as usual, the only thing I know is were heading in the direction of the Thames. On the way there were many puddles and lots of mud. But thankfully the rain was holding off. Er, until it started raining! Stopping briefly to put waterproofs on, we could see the river approaching up ahead. Being somewhere near the back, which is where I like to hang-out (through choice of course), I could see a regroup occurring up ahead on the river bank. All became apparent very quickly!! The trail was due to take us over the river in a blow up dinghy. But, before we had reached the river, the dinghy had got into some difficulty in the torrential storm (that was the cover up story at least, it had in fact been pecked by a hungry duck) and got a puncture and sank (probably not a wreck I would recommend to any willing scuba divers however) We were stranded! It was now clear that the hare was not joking about the 10 mile run, as this is the distance it would take to run up the river, over the other side, back down the river to the place where we had meant to get off the dinghy. (I think this is where SiCo said we should insert something about a seaman drowning due to a split rubber? Or something like that, anyway consider it duly inserted.) I missed that comment… good one Simon! So as we huddled under a tree, trying to keep out the rain, the decision was made to do the short run instead (phew!) I was slightly relieved, not only to avoid a 10 mile run but I could almost see the disaster that was avoided thanks to the duck, er I mean the stormy conditions! I could almost see the headlines "10 hashers missing, last seen in small inflatable dinghy floating down the Thames towards a violent weir". I was secretly hoping someone would take up the challenge of swimming across and ‘borrowing’ the boat so temptingly moored at the other side but alias no takers, wonder why? It was on-on right up the river. Stories of GB's Olympic triumphs were told and the GM gave an animated account of how soldiers mounted and dismounted their steads (I think it was "During the War….") and then it was up and over the river luckily via a non-inflatable bridge. Thankfully we managed to run off when the GM got past the routines for how to mount a horse, a bike……seriously worried what he was going to come up with next! After this we reached the decision point – who would want to come for an extra jaunt to get back a few of the promised 10 miles. I think at this point Jo used one of the blister, eye, cold excuses and headed back to the pub with Simon and Natasha. As for me, the thought of more mud and potential rain was just too appealing so off we went. Roger said we’d go to some place I can’t remember and back again. I had no idea where that was so just kept running until the risk of no chips being left was too great so we better head back. On the way we debated the merits of going through puddles vs. going around. Personally following a soaking from Mick early in the run I thought I may as well go for it and splashed through the muddiest puddles with glee! Dan however will now be known as a mud dodger, with some very graceful leaps displayed in the efforts to avoid getting wet (think there was an excuse about ankles but can’t remember the detail!). So on we rushed back to the pub, dreaming of some nice hot chips (obviously needing warming up, it being the beginning of August J), only to be met with the news that the fryer as broken. Thankfully Plan B came into action and Jo & I found a new taste sensation in the form of bacon fries – truly must try them in a crisp sandwich one day! A taste sensation indeed… it’s the future. I started off well with the run report, thanks Helen for finishing it off (I don’t know what happened in the last few miles as I had to do the short due to the cold-eye-blister that had developed during the early part of the run) All in all a great run, thanks for all the effort Matt, and thanks from me too, maybe next year it will be third time lucky…………..never did find out what the thick brown envelope was for though????
Run:921 Click here for photos I was delighted last week when we missed the rain and the curse that had followed hashes Maggie & I set, seemed to have lifted. But as I arrived for Gerry’s hash, knowing I was the appointed scribe, it appeared that that the rain was not beaten yet…. Being Pirate night, there was an excellent turn out, as the hashers once again responded to a style challenge. Capt’n Gerry welcomed the crew to his land locked watering hole and made it clear from the start that our Pirate night was to be followed to the letter. Silence in the ranks was required as orders were received and we were told of a total of 34 routes and how to play the P’s. On seeing a P, everyone was to charge back to Gerry, the last one back winning the privilege of unwrapping a layer of parcel and so winning a prize or forfeit. Also, on on’s were off for the night and to be replaced by Yo ho’s. We set off into the rain, across the recreation ground and soon came across the first P and a mad dash to regroup. Ade was the first winner of the honour of unwrapping the pirate parcel and received a prize / forfeit, though which category his headgear fitted into, I’m not sure. We continued on, crossing Horns Lane and heading into the woods, quickly realising that torches would have been a good idea on such a murky night. Other surprises awaited. A penalty of skipping was awarded to Howard, while a later forfeit involved Roz removing two items of clothing – though not necessarily from herself…. Matt would possibly have been better off getting the forfeit himself. Throughout the night pirate jokes abounded, though which seas we were sailing in, was hard to tell. Captain Pugwash was with us, (it can’t have been Seaman Staines because both him and Master Bates are just rumour and never sailed on the Black Pig – I checked!) Tinkerbell was there too, but no Peter, and I heard rumour of a gay pirate, but didn’t see Jack Sparrow. Then there was Blackbeard, (who claimed more exercise in the laughing than the running) and of course, our very own jolly Roger (with tickler?! – but why?).Last but not least, there was a truly lost soul from Monty Python, with a dead parrot on his shoulder. Most of the jokes were beyond recall (beyond mine anyway) but for the more intellectual pirates there was Des’ quiet retort of not being ‘sarky about tea cutters’. The hash continued to move through the woods, crossing several roads but it seemed that quickly the short cutters showed their intelligence and departed on a more sensible route. However, the lcb’s were still insisting on completing the course, despite it being virtually dark and headed off on a path with more shuggy that should be allowed for August. Gerry called a misplaced P, but only half the crew obeyed, so he awarded the minty prize to Natasha. As we continued on there was muttering that the Capt’n should punish those who had mutinied but by the time we regrouped, everyone was more interested in heading for port and some well earned rations. Gerry ordered the motley crew to toe the line and we headed up the hill to the on inn (or was it the ‘Yo Ho Inn?) Back at the Palmers Arms, Gerry and Rose had made sure there was food fit for a king and prizes for those who had dressed the best. Roz scooped the top award with her late transformation into a colourful parrot, while Seaman Staines got his recognition too. Pirates were lively as they got their grog and everyone was rewarded with a new Hash Pirate T shirt. Thank you to Gerry, Rose and Leslie for a great hash and so many goodies.
Run: 920 Thanks to a last-minute flurry of email and Facebook messages, most of us managed to make it to the pub for the ungodly hour of 7pm. Since this was the kids' hash, I arrived with my Dad. After the hares had explained the rules very slowly in words of one syllable, the regular hashers finally grasped what the kids had picked up immediately, and we all set off on our different routes - kids, short & long. At this point I have a confession to make: having been 'volunteered' to write up the hash, I had completely forgotten to do it until today (Monday), Gerry emailed to remind me. D'oh! So here's a brief non-linear recollection:
Run: 919 Ade's Annual Bounty Run A good crowd assembled on this fine Tuesday evening at the pay car park in Bourne End. Is this Ade's 12 annual Bounty run now? The group included two second timers, who enjoyed last week's run so decided to return --- Betty Ann and Nicola, plus two “first timers”, Nicola's friend and Jamie, who had hashed once 10 years ago. Ade also brought a friend - a first time lady hasher. It'll be hard for Jaime to get a 100 runs T shirt at that rate. Welcome back to long lost hasher Rory. Ade gave us a new rule --the first 3 to every check should do an on back. The pack made it to the first check and checked it out. On-on was called over the bridge, and off we went. Before too long we were called back by the hare, who fortunately has a loud voice, or disaster could have ensued. Apparently we were following the wrong marks so we went back over the bridge and started following the flour in the correct direction. We went through some fields and other usual hash type territory. As promised by the hare, no big hills, for the shorts at least. Where was the deep water we remember from last year? No deep wading, or gentlemen carrying ladies over the water this time. We went downhill, back to the river, passing vacation homes of the wealthy, which hashers conjectured might no longer be covered by flood insurance. On to the Bounty, in time to see the walkers already seated, and the short cutters already changed and arriving at the pub. On on another third of a mile to the cars to change, and then to retrace our steps to the pub. Then after a pleasant time at the pub, on back again to the car park.
Run No: 918 We all arrived on another, or one of the few, beautiful English July evenings in the Chilterns. It was good to see so many come and enjoy the anticipated hills around Christmas Common. After Lenore explained the nearly standard but highly confusing rules we set off left out of the pub. At the first check, Lenore as the hare, urged me on to check up the road. Thinking the other direction must be the On-In I raced up the road only to hear the on-on from another direction. Querying Lenore about her move when I caught up with the pack at the next check, she confessed that she forgoten that they put in that extra loop through the woods. Nice one Lenore (Ed's aside, she forgot the end of her run as well – and, surprisingly, also some bits in the middle, but more of that later). Next we headed down the hill towards Pyrton Hill House, at least I went about half way down before being called back up the hill. Gerry then, being concerned about loosing some of the hashers due to having such a large pack with several newcomers, installed sweepers at the back. As I just happened to catch up to the rear I was appointed first sweeper for the next few checks. As I was at the back I missed a lot of the excitement, or lack there off, at the front. I think the biggest excitement was when any of the hashers found anything that remotely resembled flour, the lack of which Lenore blamed on the rain we never had after the trail was set Monday evening. So it most have been the slugs that cleared erased all evidence of a trail. The blind trail took us down the hill towards the Getty's place where the short cutters turned up the hill to North End with the long cutters going all the way down and then back up through Blackmoor Woods to North End. At the field on the other side of North End a few of the hashers got side tracked by a young puppy, they presumed to be lost but was only ignoring his/her master and having some fun chasing two legged hounds, as it was running through the wheat field higher than itself. Up the hill to Hollandridge Farm and up Hollandridge Lane we got ever closer to the pub. But it was not to be the end just yet. Another detour took us into Queen Wood where there was a lot of confusion and on-on could be heard from almost all directions. Thanks to the assistant hare, Ken, ¾ of the pack ignored Lenore and went the right way out of the wood and back to the watering hole. (Eds aside - the remaining few foolishly accepted Lenore's absolute insistence that the trail went the other way and happily trotted off in what turned out to be entirely the wrong direction. Several turns and flour-less checks later Lenore looked somewhat lost and was gently led back to the pub by two hashers who, fortunately, knew where they were.) Thanks Lenore and Ken for a good run. 5 plus miles was about right, I had 7.44 miles. Next time just a tiny bit more flour!!!
Run No: 917 The hashers assembled outside the Red Lion on the driest July evening since records began the previous day. Was this to be another of those “I set it on Saturday and it’s all been washed away and I didn’t bring a map” hashes from Audrey’s Wet Enterprises Inc, or had the monsoons held off long enough to give Sam’s flour a chance of actually touching the ground before being blown and rained sideways into the next county? On-on for a short way down Elm Road, briefly following the route of the Penn 7, before turning right at the Sports ground and heading for the edge of Pugh’s Wood. “Pugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuthbert, Dibble and Grub” muttered some of the elderly hashers as we crossed Common Wood Lane and climbed up into Common Wood for the first of many short/long splits. “This is where I set my hash,” said Horsey Helen (Note to Ed – please can you carefully check that spelling) (Ed’s aside Checked it, carefully noting the spelling). “Hash my set I where is this,” agreed Jo, “but backwards”. A short while later we turned right to run along the last few yards of the now infamous and notorious inaugural Hash Dash (see Trash passim), exchanging brief pleasantries with a gaggle of earnest rambling folk, and then descended through some particularly vicious nettles out of the wood to Gravelly Way and to a check. There was another short/long split. The choice was longs – uphill into Charcole Grove and the woods around Penn House, with some tantalising glimpses of the coming weekend’s Chiltern Way, or shorts – take your life in your hands for a short suicide sprint south along Gravelly Way, around a couple of blind bends, dodge as many of the boy racer PETROLs as you can, and meet up with the longs in the woods. Now climbing through Penn House Grove (“this is where I set my hash”, said Roger), eventually emerging, after several Backs, onto Horsemoor Lane at Winchmore Hill where Lucy joined in a game of football by nicking the ball and running off with it, much to the alarm of the local youths (Ed’s note – Lucy is Anthony’s dog) (Ed’s aside grrr, woof woof). We ran past the Potters Arms (bring your kids here for Maggie and Dave’s hash on 29 July) and then turned towards Branches Wood, through a field of maturing rape, back downhill past Round Wood to return to Suicide Alley. There was a Check but the wise monkeys amongst us knew the only way from here was ON-ON-RIGHT as quickly as we could, to the safe sanctuary of Pennhouse Farm. Another short/long split through Brook Wood (“this is where we set our hash”, said Helen and Oj) before a long, gentle ascent towards Puttenham Place Farm. We could smell the beer from here, but that cunning hare Sam had a final joker to play. He sent the longs left and downhill, in the opposite direction from the Red Lion, before turning us alongside Twichel's Wood, up to Church Road, and then back to Puttenham Place Farm. The shorts were long gone by now. A very welcome Onn Inn soon saw us all basking in the remaining evening sunshine outside the Red Lion, enjoying generously full bowls of freshly made crisps. “My son is the chef here and he made the chips”, announced Sam. Wow, we all thought, this is nice, they’ll be bringing out some chips as well. Then it dawned us, Sam is not of these lands, and we had already eaten the fruits of his son’s labours. Thanks Sam for a fun and fast hash, and thanks for the crisps too. Eh, I mean, chips.
Run No. 916 Date : 1st July 2008 Firstly, I feel I must put hashers minds to rest by declaring that the flat tyre I got on my own run on 6th May from Merlin’s Cave, and which seemed to be the sole content of GM’s write up which almost entirely failed to mention the quite superb run, was declared terminally unwell and put down at Quik Fit next day. I had always viewed a screw as a pleasurable thing until the one which took up residence in my tyre. That out of the way, on to The Squirrel and the return to haring duties of Peter the Kettle. The evening was very warm but also blessed by the weatherman with a warning of “heavy showers”. Remembering Maggie & Jane’s run from the venue it was tempting to reach for the water proofs but, as is often the case, the forecast was pants. Dunno why the Met invest in computers, they might as well stick to hanging seaweed out of the window to see if it’s raining. After the usual rules, regulations and a mention of the dreaded “hash dash”, Peter set us in motion across the road and along the edge of Penn Woods. I have to mention the efforts of Pocket Rocket who tripped over the kerb not 20 yards from the pub thus seriously threatening the Moose’s record of going base over apex before even leaving the muster point. Fine effort Pocket. We spun past the Vicarage and pleasurably through the woods until the road brought us to a stop. From here the trail led on to Mop End past something called The Rough Park which sounds like a blonde trying to get her car lined up with the kerb to me. Right here and on passing Mop End Farm (very original name !!) to the short/medium/long split at Beamond End Lane. The longs of course went long – turning right up aforementioned lane whilst a protracted discussion set in between those shorts who wanted to become Medium for the night and those who wanted to remain as short as possible. Eventually a bit of flim flam from the GM convinced the doubters to head straight on (medium) with the carrot of a bit knocked off later on. Would say this was not entirely convincing as David had the map upside down at the time. However, on we went up past the exotically named Beamond End Ranch – yeehah, with another conflab about the route and GM pulling rank to order us onwards. We emerged somewhere in darkest Holmer Green where, after another conference, much cursing and wailing, under the guidance of Helles Belles hubby – who I might point out actually lives in Holmer Green, we went completely the wrong way in fine SCS style. This was however quickly rectified and after the obligatory heavy sarcasm, we turned through 180 degrees and went the other, and still I think wrong way. After a long dash down and up along a local race track with frequent shouts of “petrol” as the local inbreeds tried to skittle us, peering at the road from behind the large pink dice, tree sized air fresheners and c more buns figures, we emerged at the edge of Penn Woods. Gingerly crossing the road we entered the woods. Now here we split with those of us most knackered from Sunday’s Thame 10K and Barney who managed to log an excellent time without actually running it, motoring straight through whilst the GM took the others on the large loop Peter had so kindly put in. We all emerged at the pub eventually although, with Cassie apparently going walk about, it was a process which took some time. All I know about the long route is that it was well long, had a water stop at P.K’s house where I believe the hose came into play and that Helen reputedly ended up looking like the singing detective with a boat race covered in bits of paper. Oh and lets not forget the infamous hash dash. Safely back at the pub it was time for some serious liquid intake. Peter had gone pale when given a written estimate for chips so there weren’t any as he said he hadn’t had time to arrange a loan, particularly with the credit crunch. As, however, it was the auspicious occasion of the 10th anniversary of Aud and Tracey’s first night of mayhem with HWH3, choccy cake was available to keep ravenous hashers away from the local kebab vans. Well done Peter. Great to have you back in harness. Well done girls, wouldn’t have been the same without you. Anyone fancy lending me a few quid towards the tyre???? |
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