The down downs were well under way in the hasher packed Tally Ho! and Only Here for the Beer edged expectantly forward, hand extended in preparation for the reward that Shirley would be his imminently. After all, Teapot's opening gambit had been 'We've got plenty of beer!' One by one the miscreants were summoned, each receiving the RA's blessing and the amber liquid of life before blurring back into anonymity with a crinkled smile. Playing back the video, a lone voice could be heard 'Shirley the hare has to have one?' But no, the beer was gone, the DD's were done, the crowd drifted away to their respective little huddles and Only Here for the Beer slowly retreated to the bar wondering how it had come to this....
But I digress, so back to the start of our everyday tale of hashing folk:
The TVH circus moved on past the 'There may not be a welcome in the valley for thee' Pig & Whistle and down into the sheltered hollow of Littlehempston and that most countrified watering hole the Tally Ho!
My learned back seat driver Wiggy egged me on to try the Tally Ho's car park - though many a carful of hashers had assumed it was full and had sped past and sure enough, though all conventional spaces had been taken, an island space was located.
Donning my Viking horns (Piddler & U Bend paused to offer some reassuring words: 'Do you know what you look like Bluebird?') and preparing for battle, our tiny group was slightly less than regaled by two stern-faced gentlemen exiting the pub. Strangely, they seemed quite unimpressed by the horned clad apparition before them. 'You do know that the pub is closed on Mondays, don't you?' 'Indeed we do.' did we offer the kind rejoinder. The stern-faced duo reinforced their query with 'Anyway, there's a shareholder meeting taking place so you won't be able to get in.' Said (assumed) shareholders exited stage right. We shrugged and continued up to the community car park where the circle was to be held.
It was a tad chilly in the rural parking space as we awaited latecomers and stragglers to arrive. Fifteen, twenty, twenty five and thirty hashers became almost the mythical forty as Teapot called order and Piltdown launched into his spiel with yet another impossible question for the gathered idiots. Mastermind material we Shirley are not.
Doesn't time fly when you're chilled to the very bone and wishing you were in the pub... At last the hare was summoned and despite running interference from the redoubtable Arfanar, listed the main points of the evening's exercise. TWO and you're on, (sideways glances as the perceived normality of three and you're on had been abandoned) all marks on the left. Walkers about a mile, shorts about two and a half and five miles for the longs. With hope in our hearts - fools that we are - we set off for the 1738th time.
Fighting my way back up the hill through the madding crowd after filming the de rigueur fly by, Beefy was seen returning from the turn off to the water treatment plant and shouting 'It was two and ON and then there was a cross!' Sacre bleu, the hare claims his first victim.
The tarmacked lane meandered up and down and the hash spread out - quite fortuitously as a large tractor and trailer appeared and hashers could only squeeze past one at a time.
Terrain jamais vu unrolled before us and the marks were excellent. My running partner (name withheld in case of possible legal action) became more suspicious and sceptical as we purred along the byways humming 'Cause I'm a road runner baby'*. 'He's laid it on a quadbike!' Oh scandal, oh sacrilege, Shirley not! But then the route plunged down a precipitous, rock-strewn bridlepath necessitating great care and a rethink was made necessary.
Suddenly and unexpectedly, the Littlehempston church tower hove into view round a corner and there, somewhat remarkably, given the hare's assertion of the five mile long, was the OH! Oh joy! My running partner consulted his tech and declared 'Three point three miles.' We shook hands on a deed well done and legged it back to our respective cars.
It had been a strange trail but as usual for TVH, highly enjoyable - probably more for me as a former road runner - made absorbing by the new (for me) terrain. Only Here for the Beer had done well and lived up to his hash handle in spades. What is more important, the trail or the pub? We are first and foremost 'Drinkers with a running problem' and the visit to the Tally Ho! was not to be missed given its rescue from the bulldozers by the community at large. I award the hares (let's not forget the unsung Slip on Me) an unequivocal 10/10 for the evening.
Idle observations aplenty:
SMellie, still convinced that a head torch was necessary. A boxer sparring with a punch bag by the side of the road: 'Give it one for me son!' Scandalous gossip that Only Here for the Beer had laid the trail on a quad bike (he and Slip on Me had not). Bobby 'I'll do it twice with my ski poles' Ball. Guest appearance of Hatrack in a whistle (shareholder). Forgetting hasher's handle so now he's known to me as 'Wot a Barstard' (private joke). Advising SMellie (bequeathed Moose hat to award) that harriets couldn't be awarded the Moose Hat but knowing that she would definitely do just that - and she did.
ON ON to next week and the rescheduled AGPU from the Wellington Inn with Wet Johnny WJ WJ & Manopause
* Junior Walker and the All Stars you fools
