PILTDOWN MAN'S BIRTHDAY & STATE PENSION HASH
by Man-Pig
Run #1899 10th January 2022 from the Devon Arms Hotel, Teignmouth
HARES: Piltdown-Man & Smellie
Who
wuz there: Piltdown-Man, Smellie, Shitfaced, Georgy-Porgy, Gaga-4-it,
Fast Auntie Brenda, Strap-On, Well Hopped, Coldtits, Rambo, Wetfart,
Beefy, Pisswell, Man-Pig, Arkangel (late SCB), Piddler, Only Here for
the Beer, Forrest Stump, Bluebird, Fukarewe (pub only).
Who
wasn't: late message from Cheerio Beerio who had intended to attend
and bring the Hashshit shirt but caught in traffic in Exeter.
THE CIRCLE
Shitfaced
welcomed everyone into the Circle. The only announcement was that
annual subs are now payable at £25pa which ".....lasts a whole year from
January to January!" Shitfaced confirmed that the pub didn't do food
but takeaways would be allowed. The Hare's description was brief. "Longs
just over 5. Shorts about 3 and a Walkers' "....no distance stated.
Additionally, no co-hare. It transpired that the trail had been laid the
previous day. However, overnight, all the marks had been eaten. Hence,
Smellie was on a last minute dash to reinstate some of the marks.
THE TRAIL
Almost
from the start there was a feeling of deja vu. The trail was following a
very similar route to Smellie's virgin lay on the Halloween fancy dress
hash. The trail took us down Northumberland Place, a sharp right and
onto backbeach before crossing the Den and turning left onto the
Promenade.
At
this stage, as amazing as it sounds, Piddler was the front runner.
Beefy had checked the wrong way and Man-Pig and the Bird had ended up on
the wrong (seaward) side of the road. Inevitably, it wasn't long before
Beefy caught us up and the usual suspect FRB's began to pull away from
the pack.
All
along the promenade and up past the yacht club to start our ascent. For
the second time in just over two months, the marks took us up and up
and up East Cliff Walk. A short way up, a peculiar set of marks; one
arrow pointing up the hill, the other down the hill. We assumed that
this must be the return leg for the Shorts.
The
Longs continued up East Cliff walk; a little further up than we'd gone
on 2 November. Then an arrow took us left and along a narrow footpath
that I've never been on before. Unsurprisingly, this took us out onto
the Dawlish Road. Another arrow directed us across the road and then
left towards two shadowy figures....hashers? Not just hashers....Hares.
Piltdown directed us up Oak Hill Cross Road advising, "Turn sharp left
after three quarters of a mile".
Definitely
deja vu. This was another uphill climb onto Holcombe Down. It wasn't
long before tarmac gave way to a farm track. Additionally, it became
clear as to the reason for Piltdown's imparted wisdom.....NO MARKS! Not a
single one. They must have all been eaten. We ran past a stile at Lower
Holicombe Farm with a home-made "Private Land. No access" sign next to
it. I am sure that we've run over these stiles and across two fields in
the past.
Bluebird
reckons that if the stiles are still in place then it should still be a
public right of way.....maybe? Answers on a postcard please. Beefy was
well out of sight....and so was Bluebird. Yet again our Birdbrained
septuagenarian had opted for road shoes which was not the wisest of
choices on the slippery climb up to the top of Holcombe Down.
At
the top of the track there was a check. I decided to wait for the Bird
and hid behind an ex-MOD lorry. Just as Bluebird drew level with the
back of the lorry I jumped out to give him a scare.....how childish?
(Not needed at my time of life! BB)
At
almost the highest point on Holcombe down, we rejoined tarmac near
Woodlands Farm. Bluebird was delighted....tarmac, hmmmmmm, he could put
his road shoes to good use here. Our uphill travails were now rewarded
with a two mile downhill, all tarmac decent back to the Devon Arms. The
descent followed Woodway Road down to the A379/Dawlish Road.
Amazingly,
the marks had reappeared and some of them were quite new. Convinced
that we were doing a repeat of the Halloween trail, we carried on across
Dawlish Road. It looked as though we were still on trail as blobs of
flour had now given way to white chalk arrows.
It
was only upon arriving back at the Devon Arms that we noticed marks
leading from the Quay car park to the On-Down. We hadn't been on trail
since half way down Woodway Road.
Piltdown
did show us where we should have gone but I wasn't wearing my glasses.
My guess is that we missed a mark which would have taken us right and
along Haldon Avenue. This would have explained why the Bird had only
clocked-up 4.84 miles on a trail that was, "just over 5". Nevertheless,
it was good to have the Bird for company as I was never going to catch
up with Beefy.
And now, our new feature to keep y'all amused. I offer up for your edification and possible disapprobation:
THE TRAIL FILM REVIEW by the Bird
TRUE GRIT (1969)
We
Shirley got rollin' rollin' rollin' with the most welcome gritted cliff
path as we commenced our climb out of Teignmouth. Great traction for
mine Hoka pure bred road shoes, but it would be a short-lived luxury...
MUDBOUND (2017)
Piltdown
and SM Ellie waving the longs up into the boondocks with a cheerful
'Sharp left after three-quarters of a mile!' The sharp left took Man-Pig
and the Bird into a veritable skating rink of slick mud. The Hokas
struggled valiantly but were Shirley overwhelmed and gave up the ghost
(three hundred miles on the clock so they have served me well). Even
walking proved problematic and the heart rate was in the red at 150+.
Man-Pig scaring me to death by leaping out from behind a truck certainly
woke me up. I won't be forgetting that lane for some time..
RUNAWAY TRAIN (1985)
Meanwhile,
many minutes earlier, Beefy had breasted the muddy rise, passed the
military truck and had careered like a Runaway Train hard a starboard en
routey for Teignmouth golf course... long two mile detour sigh...
DOWNHILL RACER (1969)
Back
with the plodders and Oh Glory Be! Can it be So? (Cruise) Blessed Bird
beloved boulevard beckoned and, wait for it, a glorious Downhill Racer
back into town with both Man-Pig and the Bird in (So) cruise control.
THE DOWNDOWNS
Our
beer mugs Shirley overflowed as there were two physical awards on show
at the snug tavern. Strap-On had returned with the 'Is that my t-shirt
Bluebird?' stand-in Hashit shirt and Archangel had the Horse Head hat
unceremoniously stuffed in his back pocket .. neighhhh.
With
Forrest officiating, the hares were first up to be made an example of -
I mean to be recognized for their travails. Piltdown's birthday (yes,
on the day) did not go unnoticed and bravely did the hares swap sips of
the hallowed water of life.
Strap-On
blamed a detour from the short (again?) onto the quagmire long on
Pisswell who was duly awarded Forrest's slimline Old Guys Rule shirt.
Archangel
had a sad story to relate. Too long to describe but apparently Forrest
had been an 'unsociable git' for hiding when Archangel dropped by...
Shirley not Forrest? Horse Head hat homes in on its master yet again...
the toast was, more charitably - to 'absent friends'.
Two more halves to dispense and outrageously did Forrest ad lib.
Poor
Piddler was singled out for his signature moaning - this time about
Forrest's muttley allegedly doing his doggy-do's en route.
Finally,
SM Ellie lost out on the awarding of the final half - mainly because it
was recalled she had downed three previously from the same venue on her
virgin lay!
POSTSCRIPT
A score draw [sic] attained with Fukarwi making a special guest appearance in the pub and a good time was Shirley had by all.
After
three months of injury, a glimmer of hope tonight as I got round with
no twinges (but predictably hobbling the next day) and it was glorious
to be able to cautiously stride out once more on the long.
I
had wrongly assumed/hoped that the trail would have been mainly on road
as was the case the last time we were here. Whatamistakatomaka!
Never
mind, another memorable trail and thank goodness I followed Man-Pig on
our truncated version. I would not have survived Beefy's 7.21 miler!
The Deck Hand was great while it lasted but I can confirm that the Gun Dog was an excellent substitute.
Well done the hares and thanks to the pub for their hospitality.
ON ON to next week and the BIG 1900 HASH from the Cridford Inn at Trusham with Forrest.
MAGIC ARROWS AND A STEWARDS ENQUIRY
by Man-Pig - supported by the Bird
TVH3 Run No. 1898 3rd January 2022
VENUE: The Old Manor Inn, Preston, Paignton
HARES: Bobbiball & Man-Pig
HOO
WUZ THERE?: Bobbiball, Man-Pig, Shitfaced, Bluebird, Only Here for the
Beer, Pork Torpedo, Horny, Melonpicker, Soapy, Strap-On, Mrs Strap-On,
U-Bend, Beefy, Fallen Woman, Broken Man, Piltdown Man, Smellie, Big End,
Well Hopped, Gaga-4-it, Coldtits, Rambo.
WHO WUZN'T: Not a bad turnout for the first run of the year
THE CIRCLE
Bobbiball
droned on for a bit without imparting too much knowledge. A Walkers'
trail of about one and a half miles; Shorts maybe 3 1/2 miles and Longs
about 5 1/2 miles......maybe? Then there was some confusion as to the
first Long/Short split on exiting the pub car park. The Hares had,
initially, differing opinions on which way the Shorts went. Then they
agreed and then they changed their minds. All very reassuring.
THE TRAIL
The
Longs turned right out of the car park and headed towards Oldway
Mansion; all two of them.....Beefy and Man-Pig. The Walkers and the
Shorts turned left out of the car park with the Walkers pretty much
following Bobbiball back to his abode for a mulled wine and nibbles
stop.
Having
opted for the Long, there is little I can say about the Shorts until we
caught up with them some 25 minutes later. The Longs ducked and weaved
around Oldway Mansion before traipsing down Lower Polsham Road,
traversing the skate boarding park and ending up at Marine Parade
heading towards Torquay and Hollicombe Beach.
At
the end of Marine Parade, we came across Horny, Pork Torpedo, Soapy and
Melonpicker who were doing their own trail. Beefy and I followed the
marks inland and up an unadopted road by the name of Hollicombe Lane. A
check at Cockington Lane took us up Upper Headland Road before crossing
Preston Down Road. The marks took us along Lower Penns Road and the
entrance to Preston Park.
Ahead
of us torchlight. Lots of it. The Shorts. At almost the highest point
in Preston Park a check caused much confusion near Mercer Close with the
trail almost coming back on itself. A slippery descent ensued as all
entered the woodland of Occombe Valley. It wasn't long before we came to
a Walkers/Long and Short split.
The
Walkers went left and down onto Coombe Road whilst the Longs and the
Shorts continued their slide deeper into Occombe Woods. Quite a long
while later, atop a slight climb, we came to the second Long/Short
split. The Shorts had a quite steep descent to the stream whilst Man-Pig
had a lonely slog to the head of the valley in a futile attempt to
catch up with Beefy. Or not so lonely as it turned out. For there, ahead
of me, were two head torches. I could also hear Beefy calling. However,
the head-torches were on a track slightly below me....not part of the
trail. It turned out to be Smellie and Strap-On who thought that they
were on the Shorts. I took them around the Longs but never did catch up
with Beefy until the drinks stop.
The
Longs trail looped around the top of the two streams that enter Occombe
Valley and it wasn't long before we rejoined the Shorts' trail. This
latter part of the trail had us on a long slog up a footpath that runs
behind Greenpark Road and ends near Kestor Drive. This uphill slog was
taking its toll on poor old Smellie who was puffing and panting the
whole way up. How she enjoyed the respite of the descent down to
Bobbiball's and the reinvigoration of his mulled wine. This descent took
us first down Greenford Road, then left along Cranford Road and right
again for a long downhill along Albany Road. A final left turn had us at
Bobbiball's drink stop on Celia Road.
Suitably
refreshed, the trio of Smellie, Man-Pig and Strap-On clambered down the
steep steps at the end of Celia Road and then left onto Shorton Valley
Road. This got a little confusing as we were now running against the
marks for the Walkers' trail. To Smellie's relief, it was all downhill
now in pretty much a straight line down Coombe Road and back to the Old
Manor, passing U-Bend on the way.
TITILLATION OR AGGRAVATION?
And now, a Bluebird ballad to titillate or perchance aggravate, Oh Dearly Beloved:
Lonely was the furrow plough'd and ghastly was the pace
No hasher seen the evening long but smiley was his face
Entered he Paignton Parkfield grounds, the village of the damned
Round and round and back and forth, Shirley an excursion most unplanned
Der Panzer stop to refuel was his destination bound
Oh lackaday, oh dismal day, it could not be ruddy found
Close at hand ye olde Preston inn and salvation Shirley m'dear
The just reward, need you ask, a pint of Doom Bar beer!
No? Well please yourselves then.
THE DOWN-DOWNS
Once
more, no physical awards to award and a stewards enquiry has been
convened to identify the miscreants. The hashit shirt remains
languishing in some mystery kitbag at Cheerio Beerio's gaff. I cannot
preach as I had a previous model interned behind my outside shed drier
for two years. Once discovered, it was a write-off as the rats had got
at it. Sigh..
The
Jester's horn-ed hat was last seen being awarded to Roxanne on #1891
whereupon the trail goes cold. Base to Roxanne: Are you in receipt,
Roxanne? Over.
Our
esteemed and missed RA organizer, Teapot, always kept the house in
order. A quiet word to awardees after the DD's to see if they were
returning the following week or, if not, to give the award to Teapot for
safekeeping.
Here endeth my sermon, Oh Dearly Reliev-ed.
But
back to the DD's: Usually reserved for last - the thank you drink for
the hares - but the cry went up and the disparate - some say desperate -
duo were immediately summoned. Well, Bobby anyway as Man-Pig was
already in situ as the RA presiding.
Well
Hopped mentioned 'Magic arrows' appearing on trail and Man-Pig knew the
game was up. Deja vu the Highweek Inn as Pork Torpedo recited his 'Dumb
Cum' ditty.
SM
Ellie and Strap-On were reported for being on the long trail which
seems a bit curious as they both should have been anyway. But never
mind, since when have awards ever been sensible?
Merely
magnificent these days and looking as fit as a butcher's dog, Strap-On
poured himself into slimline Forrest's Old Guys t-shirt for his downdown
showdown with Ellie.
Not
sure how U Bend escaped a penalty DD as he was seen indecorously (hash
circles that is) sipping what looked like a cup of coffee... WHAT?
POSTSCRIPT
Well
done the hares in laying what is invariably a quiet first hash of the
year. After being housebound all over Christmas and the new year, I
risked it and went as a biscuit to support my local Rottenführer. The
company - as always - was congenial and the Doom Bar tasted great.
Only
Here for the Beer somehow had wangled a lift from mein Großmeister
(Shitfaced you fools) and was sampling the Sharp's Sea Fury 5.0 abv with
gusto.
I had a fine time as well, thanks MP and Bob.
On-On to next week's Hash; Piltdown Man's at the Devon Arms Hotel, Teignmouth.
ON-ON from the Pig and the Bird
HASHING HEAVEN AT HASH HQ - FREE FOOD GALORE! by Man-Pig
TVH3 Run No. 1897 27th December 2021 Pubathon Hash
VENUE: TVH3 HQ - The Park Inn, Kingskerswell
HARE: Shitfaced
ROLL
CALL: Shitfaced, Hotlips, Zoot, Cheerio Beerio, Gaga-4-it, Fast Auntie
Brenda, Laura/Lara (little elf), Arkangel (early), Bobbiball (late),
Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Strap-On, Coldtits, Man-Pig, Ollie &
dogs, Floss (watching football)
IN ABSENTIA: loads
THE CIRCLE
Well,
it was a small circle with only 12 actually on-trail. Instructions were
brief. "Make your way down to the Hare and Hounds. Don't spend more
than 20 minutes in the pub because we need to be at the Lord Nelson for
8.15 when food has been arranged. Then make you way to the Park Inn
where more food will be available". All free of charge!
THE TRAIL
A
simple walk down the main road to the Hare and Hounds for our first
drink....and first misdemeanour of the evening; a hat was found in the
pub just as the last hashers were leaving.
Some
exited the Hare and Hounds by the front door and some by the rear door.
We all regrouped to make the trek up Southey Lane to the Lord Nelson.
On the way, Man-Pig and Coldtits decided to bang on Cinderfella and Miss
Whiplash's door to encourage them to swell our numbers. No answer. Bah
humbug!
On
arriving at an incredibly hot Lord Nelson we enjoyed another beer and
piping hot pigs-in-blankets. There was also a bizarre conversation
involving men in fishnet stockings and the abrasiveness of the coarse
wool used in kilt making. More on that later.
Finally
a short walk back to TVH3 HQ for a couple of pints and the Down-Downs.
Total distance, according to Coldtits' Strava: 2.44 miles and not a
grain of flour in sight!
THE DOWN-DOWNS
Yet
again there were no physical awards present. Local Harriet,
Cheerio-Beerio, was asked what had happened to the Hashshit shirt? "Oh.
It's in the laundry". LAUNDRY! "Err....I mean laundry basket". After a
lot of wriggling and squirming the final location was determined as
being in a rucksack somewhere. That's more like it.
The
first virtual Down-Down went to Shitfaced. This was for being the Hare
and also for organising not one, but two pubs to provide free food. Even
better, the free scoff could be washed down by draught beers that are
all priced at a mere £3/pint until New Year's Eve at the Park Inn.
Arkangel
would have got a Down-Down for being in the pub but declining to do the
trail. In truth, he would have earned the long-distance award, even
without completing the trail. This was because he had walked from Newton
Abbot to the Park Inn to watch the 'Quins v Saints' rugby match.
As
Arkangel had built-up a 4-pint head start, he elected not to do the
trail. Even more sensibly, he had vacated the pub prior to our return.
He could see the writing on the wall....."another sesh if I'm not
careful". Maybe we'll save this Down-Down till next week?
The
second award went to returnee Ollie. For it was Ollie who had left his
hat in the Hare and Hounds. Now, Ollie is a tad follically challenged.
Accordingly, you would have thought that he'd notice straightaway if
something was missing atop. Hence a note for, "Cold on top".
The
third award went to Hotlips who went into graphic detail about his
first experience of wearing ladies' fishnet tights. In the absence of
any instructions in the packaging, he assumed that you just jumped into
them, au naturel, and then donned your underpants Superman style. The
net (get it?) result of all this was that he got his private bits
uncomfortably entangled in the mesh - a les gills des poisons et les
monofilament nets.....ouch! Accordingly a note for, "The trawler man".
The
fourth Down-Down went to Cheerio-Beerio. Not for contemplating washing
the Hashshit shirt, but for having the strength of a finger of Kit Kat.
Poor Cheerio was full of cold and wanted to go straight home after the
Lord Nelson but it did not take long for Hot Lips to break her will
power and encourage her to complete the trail and make it to the Park
Inn where she was suitably rewarded. For the first time in hashing
history a WKD was awarded as a Down-Down. This was accompanied by,
"Here's to Got a cold? Have a Kwik Krap!......"
There
was one beer left. Had anyone seen anything on trail? No-one had seen
anything but Shitfaced, and others, had heard something. The saga of
Hotlips' encounter with some fishnet tights was augmented by Man-Pig's
commentary of the pros and cons of going commando when wearing a kilt.
Apparently
it all rather depends upon the grade of wool used in the kilt material.
Most kilts are spun from a very coarse wool. Hence, in going commando,
over the course of a full evening of Scottish Country dancing, this has
the same effect as polishing one's helmet with 400 grade
sandpaper......double-ouch! Hence Shitfaced led the rendition of, "Hold
it in your hand Mrs Murphy......"
Five Down-Downs. Yes indeedy. With only 12 people on trail, you had nearly a fifty-fifty chance of a Down-Down.
On-On to next week's Hash; Bobbiball's run from The Old Manor, Old Torquay Road, Paignton.
And,
finally, wishing you and your families Happy New Year. Onto 2022 and
the hope that we will finally be rid of the coronavirus and a return to
some sort of normality.
TALL TALES OF TWO LONGS by Man-Pig & the Bird
Run #1892 Monday 29th November
VENUE: The Village Inn, Highweek, Newton Abbot
HARES: Only Here for the Beer & Shitfaced
ROLL
CALL: Only Here for the Beer, Shitfaced, Bluebird (returnee), Melon
Picker, Forrest-Stump, Gaga-4-it, Ernie, Fallen Woman, Wet-Johnny,
Man-Pig, Piltdown-Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Strap-On, Able Semen,
Tamsin (needs a name), Beefy, Pisswell, Rambo, Zen, Big-End,
Well-Hopped, Satnav, Threesum, Wetfart, Pork Torpedo & Hornie.
IN ABSENTIA: Arkangel, Bobbiball, most Penners, Cheerio Beerio (building kitchen)
THE CIRCLE
Only
Here for the Beer was the named Hare for the evening's shenanigans.
What we didn't know was that he had a co-conspirator - Shitfaced -
recently recovered from a wrist injury (self-inflicted!). With these two
in charge what could possibly go wrong?
Shitfaced
engaged us with a rather long winded tale of how they set the trail or,
more accurately, how they failed to set the trail. "What do you do if
you see a Road Closed sign when setting the trail?". "Carry on", was
the obvious response. For we are on foot and road signs do not apply to
hashers... or do they? I guess this rather depends on whether or not
you're laying the trail by car or on foot.
Inevitably,
it proved to be the case that much of the trail had been laid with the
assistance of the internal combustion engine (in 10 years time the
scribe will be writing hydrogen fuel cell).
Yes,
Shitfaced and Only Here for the Beer came up against a Road Closed
sign. Despite the kindly advice of a helpful local, "The road really is
closed", Dick Dastardly and Muttley drove on before coming across a huge
gaping hole spanning the fill width of the carriageway. Worse still,
there was no room to turn around. "Drat and Double-drat". Hence a neck
wrenching half mile reverse back to the original road closed sign.
Unfortunately, the helpful local was still there. A sheepish smile from
Shitfaced towards the good samaritan. Now, if Only here for the Beer's
car was covered in astroturf everything would have been explained.
Anyway, the outcome of all this was that if you see a road closed sign, ignore it, but only if you're on foot.
There
was one Long/Short split. The Walkers' trail was completely separate
from that of the Longs and Shorts. Accordingly, if the Long trail proved
to be too short, just tack on the Walkers' trail at the end. This
seemed a tad confusing as the Hare had previously told us that the Longs
was six miles.......ho hum.
PART 1: MAN-PIG'S LONG
The
Longs and the Shorts turned left out of the pub car park and commenced a
rather long descent down Ringslade Road to the A382. At the new
roundabout, Beefy and Wet Johnny checked left towards the A38 while Big
End checked right back towards Newton Abbot. Although Beefy was calling,
passing traffic meant that we couldn't hear what he was calling.
Nevertheless, as he hadn't come back to the check we decided the he was
probably "On". A canter along the A382 took us up to Forches Cross and a
big arrow pointing right and onto Greycoat Lane.
At
the bottom of Greycoat Lane, the only Long/Short split, the Longs went
left towards Teigngrace whilst the Shorts took a right towards the old
Exeter Road. At this point, the pack was pretty spread out. Wet-Johnny
and Beefy were ahead and we couldn't hear any calling from them so they
were probably a loooooooong way in front of us. The Pig had been joined
by Tamsin and Big End (sans Ned) as we headed towards Teigngrace and the
obvious right turn over the railway and Stover canal.
Marks
took us right along the new cycle path. An obvious route would have
been to take us straight on and across the field to join the footpath
that runs along the banks of the Teign......but no marks. So it was down
the Templer Way following the marks to Teign Bridge.
Would
we be continuing down the Templer Way to Jetty Marsh road or would we
be heading back towards the A382 by the Vauxhall & MG garage? The
arrows don't lie and a big arrow pointed us right, along the old Exeter
Road, across the A382 and up Whitehill Road. Well, we had started with a
long downhill stretch on Ringslade Road so it was inevitable that we
would be finishing with a reciprocal uphill slog. And this is exactly
what we got from Whitehill Road.....uphill until we hit the pub!
Wet-Johnny
and Beefy were only just back at the pub and were looking perplexed.
"Only 3.5 miles. But Shitfaced had said it was a six miler". We
discussed the route. Wet-Johnny and Beefy had done exactly the same
route as ourselves and we had been "On trail" all the time. We couldn't
have gone Wong Wei!
Nevertheless,
Beefy and Wet-Johnny elected to tack-on the Walker's trail to make up
the mileage. Man-Pig, Tamsin and Big End elected to go for a pint of
beer instead.
Back
in the pub, the number of hashers seemed lower than expected. Sure, all
the Walkers were back and there would be some Longs still out on trail
but what about the Shorts?
The
only Short we'd seen was Zen whom we'd passed on the climb up Whitehill
Road. Where were the others? Later, quite a long time later, Smellie,
Strap-On, Ernie and Well-Hopped staggered through the front door of the
pub:
"Where have you been?" asked the Pig.
"On the Longs", replied Smellie.
"What? till now? It was only three and a half miles", retorted the Pig.
Incredulously,
Smellie queried, "Where have you been Man-Pig? The longs was five and a
half miles". Smellie was quite adamant about this.
Further
analysis of the trail revealed that a cunning plan had been conceived
by the Hares. "Why don't we put in a second long short split but don't
tell anybody? Put down dots the same distance from the junction in every
direction and let them find out for themselves? We won't even mark it
as check. The best bit is, those that do the longer trail will come back
to exactly the same place. They could be going round in circles for
ages!" A cunning plan indeed.
The
net result of Dumb and Dumber's efforts was that some Longs had a jolly
jape of circa 5.5 miles whilst the other Longs got away lightly with a
mere 3.5 miles. Fortunately, no-one was foolish enough to repeat the
loop or even retrace the outgoing trail back to the pub!
PART 2: THE BIRD'S LONG
Many
thanks MP for manning the ramparts, shades of Beau Geste (1966) (dead
legionnaires admittedly) but now, amidst screams of rage and pleas for
mercy, the Bird proudly presents the upcoming epic:
FIVE CAME HOME (based on the TV mini series 2017)
Certificate HHH*
All
day was the Bird in a state of High Anxiety (1977). After a yawning
chasm of six weeks, The Return of the Living Dead (1985) was nigh. BUT
would the plan actually work?
Oh
Yes, Dearly Beloved, it was Shirley showtime and there was a lot riding
on Antonio** from Papillon (1973). Failure would Shirley drive the Bird
back into his bunker for a considerable time - and that would include
all pre-christmas fixtures... I heard that hoorah!
It
started badly and got worse. Striding Wong Wei (after all of twenty
yards) towards the church, the Bird glanced back to see he was alone, whatamistakatomaka.
Skulking
back onto trail, the longs and shorts had long gone - game over so soon
Shirley? Grrrr. To compound his misery, it was quite a steep descent
that was more than tricky and the Bird gingerly proceeded at impulse
power only, shouting a curse to the skies..
A light ahead, a hasher walking a dog mayhap, but try as hard as he could, it proved impossible to get any closer.
But he was a tough old Bird and persevered. It became flatter and semi-trundle speed was applied.
'Nice
to see you back, BB' came the greeting as the walking dog combo was
passed, but I failed to identify the hasher, only learning later that it
was Well Hopped and Ned!
Poor
Well Hopped was also injured and unable to run after taking a tumble
from her bike and cracking a rib in her back. Very painful as I can
Shirley testify. Ned had a good walk though - Well Hopped appeared after
we had finished and changed seventy minutes later.
A
luridly lit roundabout loom-ed and hashers could be seen in the
distance giving the Bird a chance to dance. No need to check, just
follow.
Zen
appeared in the cross-hairs and the Bird closed with menace. A few
yards from triumph, Zen broke into a trot and the chance evaporated.
However, Zen eventually tired of the manoeuvre and ground to a halt to
admire the views and the Bird carved the first notch on his Lee-Enfield.
Veering
right at Forches Cross, three hashers: SM Ellie, Strap-On and Pisswell
were espied and a little further ahead was Ernie, he of the fastest milk
cart fame. A veritable mini hash pioneering gaily along - until the
manic loping Bird rudely interrupted their peaceful jaunt.
And
so it began. The Bird surging ahead with a curious loping gait on any
gradient (though unfortunately very few) and being rapidly reeled back
in on any downhill where the lope could not work.
The banter was convivial indeed and hey! the Bird was back in the Fray Bentos.
Approach a familiar railway crossing did the querulous quintet quest with only a slight delay actually undoing the latch.
It was here, Oh Dearly Bemused, that the diabolical devil dice duly dispensed disaster (Six Ha!).
He
who should never be named, spotted a flour scuff to the left and off we
merrily went. Another (dubious) mark beside a bridge reinforced the
opinion that we were Shirley on trail but...
Confidence
began to wane as the highway was reached with no further marks and we
turned to Ernie for advice and the way home as the black-attired Bird
crow flies.
Back we spurred like madmen and a half mile later arrived - back at the railway crossing... sigh.
The
Bird threw a tantrum and was loath to embark on another circuit, but
gently did they cajole him once more unto the crossing - or close the
wall up with our hashing dead.
The Groundhog Day (1993) was overwhelming as we came to that far side turn.
And there it was, as plain as plain could be, a crystal clear, ghastly white flour mark on the grass - indicating right.
Four
pairs of eyes glared accusingly at the Bird who immediately began to
wail - not with the guilt but with the realization that there was now
another two miles to get to the beer.
Singalong with me please to the Bryan Ferry classic:
Let's stick together, come on, come on, let's stick together
You know we made a vow to leave one another never
And they Shirley did not leave one another, collecting Rambo on the last climb back into Highweek.
The Famous Five who had endured, received a ticker-tape welcome as they triumphantly entered the pub car park.
I need a beer.
DOWNDOWNS IN THE HIGHWEEK INN
A
paucity of awards to dispense and only the Horse Head Hat on show but
never mind, thine RA Forrest weaved and waffled as the seated hash
scoffed their bangers and fries.
A sympathy award to the Bird - listed as a 'returnee' by MP, so long has he been away.
That
old chestnut 'parking' was cited as the misdemeanour and MP was in the
frame for revving and reversing his lady wife's 'Kensington canoe' in
and around the slanting chariot tether.
The
Song Master was given the nod and such was the delivery, MP choked and
had difficulty recovering his composure to down the Raven abv 3.8.
The heavily censored version of the song herewith:
'He's stupid, he's stupid,
He's really ****ing dumb,
If it wasn't for his mother,
He'd be a spot of c**e!'
Two
halves of Raven for the hares turned into an impromptu downdown
competition with Only Here false starting and having to top up his glass
which gave a slight advantage to the Grand Master to take the honour.
POSTSCRIPT
With
Dog End poorly, Only Here for the Beer called in Shitfaced to assist. I
was most relieved about the predominantly road trail and may not have
ventured out if advised it was rough cross-country terrain.
Yes,
it was mainly my mistaka that took our Band of Brothers on our
unadvertised long split. 'A hasher of your experience missing that..'
was Ernie's take as we sighted the clear mark second time around. But we
had a fun time out there and grateful was I for the company of
Strap-On, Ernie, Pisswell and SM Ellie.
Well done the hares!
* As
played by the late Gregory Sierra (see photo) who was Puerto Rican by
descent. A frightening chase scene ensues through the jungle, with
Antonio and Papillon pursued by Indian trackers with blowpipes. Antonio
does not run, he lopes but is still quicker than Papillon (Steve
McQueen) who runs conventionally. The scene left a lasting memory and
was recalled recently when I found myself unable to run after adductor
injury.
** HHH = Hasher health hazard
On-On
to next week and Manaton Village Hall; meet at the Church car park.
Hare Pisswell will arrange beer and scoff so no need to BYO.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
