A BOBBIBALL EXTRAVAGANZA
Advertised late in the day as Bobbiball & Friends with a 'bring your cozzies and mayhap grab a prize' theme, it soon became apparent at the circle that the friends were notorious cronies Wigwam and BB and some got that sinking feeling even before encountering the sea dip.
But Shirley, I am a tad premature with my recounting of the evening's merriment and inevitable disasters along the way, so let us return to the beginning, dearly beloved...
Bobby had planned it all down to the last detail, this was going to be his 'Grand Hash Design' and perhaps return him to the glory days (long past) of Best Hash - sigh. The extravaganza was going to have everything and more: A scenic stroll through the woods; a viewpoint to die for; the de rigueur sweetie stop; and culminating in the grand finale of a beach beer and nibbles stop AND prizes up for offer dip.
Oh Bobby! It looked so good on paper and the pub grub menu had also been arranged with Bob pleading (insanity) for Hash funds to finance the enterprise.
Oh Bobby! It looked so good on paper and the pub grub menu had also been arranged with Bob pleading (insanity) for Hash funds to finance the enterprise.
Cometh the hour, came the car park carnage with latecomers and the World Cup crowd all vying for a place. Manpig quite plainly failed to have a day off by attempting to drive into the congested mayhem of the car park in his massive conveyance at 7:20pm ! White van man U Bend with passenger Piddler refused to take no for an answer and created a space at the entrance albeit by reversing into the pub sign - ah well, nice try boys.
Amidst the confusion, GM Piltdown valiantly attempted to muster the circle with the not so musical background noise of boy racers gunning back and forth in the road outside.
Thirty two was the roll call and eventually they somewhat reluctantly headed on out for the much vaunted semi-epic.
The first check - immediately to the right from the pub - baffled the pack who believed they must be heading for the coast and not up into the concrete clad conurbations of Shorton valley.
The pioneer longs of Beefy, Fukarwe and Wide, cautiously and suspiciously advanced, still unsure of the direction they were heading; the climb into Shorton woods eventually reassuring them that they were not on a falsie.
The lynchpin of the trail was at the summit of these woods and the left turn down into Occombe Valley woods where the hash would be entertained with many a twist and turn before returning to the same place. Wigwam had been taxed with changing the arrow after the hash had rolled through.
However, the heat of battle (and carrying a backpack with a wetsuit etc) changed the game plan.
Wigwam took the news quite well and played the white man in spades, covering both trails and SS while Bobby headed for the beer stop at Hollicombe.
Wigwam took the news quite well and played the white man in spades, covering both trails and SS while Bobby headed for the beer stop at Hollicombe.
Back at the ranch, the shorts began appearing (Slobbadog had already been directed down but had returned a few minutes later) and began enquiring what exactly lay ahead as they were still apparently heading inland and the promise of the dip ever receding. 'I could not tell a lie' related the renegade hare at the disciplinary hearing at the bar afterwards - the result being that, given the choice, many of the shorts decided that they would forego the luxury offer of the tour de woods and head directly for the beer stop on Hollicombe sands.
I was feeling very guilty indeed as I wended my way back with the grateful shorts past that incredible view of Torbay and even the 'You're my hero, BB!' quote from AS didn't allay my trepidation as to what Bobby and Wigs would say at the post mortem.
As we crunched along the beach (was going to edge out Shitfaced in a sprint for the beer until he tugged at my shirt but promptly tripped over a rock! Ha!), the beer and nibbles stop was well underway with Bobby and Teapot dishing out the alcoholic beverages. The hashers, longs and shorts, arrived more or less at the same time and I didn't feel quite so bad with the added plus that Bobby and Wigwam didn't bear a grudge.
The company was great and the swim was welcome reward for the efforts put in. On our way back to the pub, I rescued a damsel destined for the dust cart and persuaded her to accompany me to the bar for a drink. The landlord took one look at my dainty companion and despite my protestation that she was quite 'armless' exclaimed: 'I can't serve her, she's clearly off her head and nearly legless!' No? Well please yourselves then.
The 1748 Trail Awards went to:
BLUEBIRD his 600 Runs badge at last!! but he wants to
share this with his partner
SHIT-FACED who made the biggest splash into the sea!
U-BEND for very carefully reversing his van into the pub sign.
SLIP on ME dug deep to find her lost flip flop on in the sand.
BLUEBIRD his 600 Runs badge at last!! but he wants to
share this with his partner
SHIT-FACED who made the biggest splash into the sea!
U-BEND for very carefully reversing his van into the pub sign.
SLIP on ME dug deep to find her lost flip flop on in the sand.
The Old Manor Inn landlord and staff were obliging, the fare on offer more than adequate and on the occasion of possibly my last ever run badge, I can quite simply say that I had a lovely time. Thank you Bobby and Wigwam for making it so....
ON ON to next week and Hollwell Farm, Hollwell Down, Dartmoor. OD Rugglestone Inn (Pisswell)
