Run #1790 Monday 15th April at Ipplepen Football Club with Hare Wet Johnny & Co.
Being semi coherent and barely alive after the Ipplepen footie club hash, Oh Dearly Partied out, I shall attempt to make sense of the evening's antics and manifold they were Winfield.
WJ, furiously gesticulating, redirected my recalcitrant chariot nearing the clubhouse and the early crawl became rush hour as the faithful arrived in force for that fairly unusual occurrence - a non pub On Down.
'Let's Be Careful Out There'* should be our hashing catch phrase as many a disaster is Shirley awaiting the unwary and idiotic (of which TVH has in spades) so Beefy and I decided to err on the side of caution - it being a WJ/Manopause hard man hash - and added head torches to the survival kit.
Sunday's Honiton Hippo heroes BroadS and SM Ellie were game for another giggle and would provide yet another not so classic Whatamistakatomaka moment from He who Shirley should not be named - sigh...
Bobby Woll was attired in his Heroes of Telemark get up (uncannily the same blue waterproof top, ski pole and hat) and could have passed for old Kirky** - at a distance of five miles.
I made the roll call a mighty respectable thirty eight: Teapot, Piltdown & Georgie, 69 (Verdana Blue, yeh baby), Archangel (on time), SM Ellie, BroadS, Beefy, Manopause, WJ, Erection, orienteers Ben, Hugo & Will arriving by bike, Shitfaced*** rather soberly [sic] attired for the walkers' trail, 3sum, SatNav, Wigwam, nattily bandana clad & Bobby, Hotlips & Zoot, Doris & Rambo, U Bend, Only Here, T Humper, Just Cummin', I-Poo'd, Slobbadog, Manpig, Raf, Anita, Abcess, Gosia, returnees Twinkletoes and Screwed, Poacher and BB.
The hares declared three trails: A long of six miles plus which elicited a cry of 'Is that all you've got?' a short of about two and a half miles and a walkers' route of indeterminate length. A SS and three L/S splits completed the spiel and the shorts and walkers were directed out the main entrance leaving the longs to prescribe a mandatory 'silly sod' loop of the playing field to give the rabble and serial drinkers a head start at least Larry.
The longs found the pack had progressed all of a hundred metres, perhaps being reluctant to stray too far from the bar Bobby in uncharted Indian country.
Another log jam at the second check saw the FRBs weaving through the shorts and anxious not to lose touch at this early stage. It was hard a starboard at the A381 and down past the garage Dainton bound - though turning into a farm and stables hardly helped at one arrow - the old eyesight isn't as good as it used to be Beefy...
The pecking order was now established and Ben, Will and a resurgent Hugo (following the previous week's slump) surged to the front pursued by Beefy, pit stopping (Cider) Poacher, BroadS, the Bird and a slug it out Manpig who was intent on doing some damage to the old boys... longs sweeper Manopause lurked close behind to ensure all went smoothly.
Twenty minutes into the trail trial by heart attack attempting to keep up with the action and only forty five minutes of fun left, blessed relief was given as a series of checks (good boy WJ) slowed the rapido tuxedos up just a tad.
The last long languid loop loomed large immediately after the WJ SS (WJ was dispensing a fine array of sweeties to tempt: Berties, choc peanuts, jelly babies etc).
With the light now fading fast, the Wellington Inn was passed and the shorts were encountered once again descending past the church with 3Sum and SatNav spotted working well. The usual suspect malingerers were given a tongue lashing as we steeled ourselves for the final frontier test.
Eventually, a cluster of lights could be discerned far ahead on the left giving rise to a faint hope that the haven of the footie club was at hand - especially as the heroic hour had now been attained. BroadS had a brief bad feeling that it was someone's conservatory (!) but then the OH appeared. In steady drizzle and 6.87 miles in the bag, we were back and by golly, Geronimo, the longs had Shirley earned their beer tonight.
A little later and Manopause enquired if anyone had seen SM Ellie who was MIA. Misguided and misinformed indeed was the Bat Hat presenter but since when has the truth got in the way of a DD Oh Dearly Wronged Hippos everywhere...
Inside the clubhouse, volunteer hosts Clive and big Dave were serving from the cold cabinet all manner of bottled favourites - Doom Bar, Hobgoblin and London Pride - and all at a wallet friendly £2.50 agogo and the Ipplepenners were scurrying around preparing the sarnies. Comfy cubbyholes were crammed and the usual TVH bubbling atmosphere built up in advance of the live entertainment - and that there Shirley was this evening Oh Dearly to be named and wrongly shamed...
DDs RAd by Manpig:
For the hares WJ & Erection - Manopause abstaining.
T Humper (Ceremonial Bat Hat) to Slobbadog after she had been missing for many weeks.
BB (Vampire bat Hat) to SM Ellie for not doing the long - but she did!
Manpig (Hashit shirt) to Ben which prompted a naming of Flasher - Ben: 'Bike light in rucksack flashed throughout the whole run but no-one told me. Hence the name, Flasher.'
Another naming for big Raf was given by our Polish correspondent Wigwam who decided on Pan Fart (loose Polish translation of Mister Good Luck!).
Final award was a big 400 Run badge to our Grand Master Piltdown who, shades of Teapot and Twin Buffers, refused to be hurried in the beer sampling stakes.
The Penners excelled with a hugely enjoyable and testing trail - some parts I'd never seen before and also what proved to be a great OD. A lot of hard work was much appreciated by us all. Thanks WJ, Manopause and Erection.
* Only the old stagers will recall the line from the 80s NBC show Hill Street Blues - Google it non goggleboxers.
** Kirk Douglas you fools
*** Reportedly banned from attending Tues/Wed SS (rum) at Paraprick's drum and intent on keeping a low profile.
ON ON to next week and Newtons Free House, Newton Abbot TQ12-1TP. (Wigwam)
