Run #1839 from the Park Inn, Kingskerswell
From far and wide they came to rediscover the ages old art of hashing, but this time in a different way. Here follows the sacred roll call of They who Dared:
Manpig - looking a little trimmer and sporting the latest fashion of the Surrey with the Fringe on Top; Popeye - carrying a little more in condition and taking the Fringe on Top to award winning proportions; Piltdown & Georgy P - sans Yellow Submarine transport; Screwed - with the Daz Brilliant whitest pooch I have ever seen; T Humper and I-Poo'd + Spud; Slip on Me - a fervent and guaranteed attendee; sweet and forgiving (more on that later) Coldtits; a pugnacious (I heard you were laying it Bluebird you effing Pillock) Wetfart; Only Here for the Beer (cider actually on the night); the FRB battalion of Flasher, Artful Dogger and Plonker; Pisswell - hoping to get a long run in; late arrival Archangel bless him [sic]; even later arrival ParaP with dawgs; Beefy and last but Shirley not least our Grand Master Shitfaced who had arranged the affair with Piltdown and equally supportive Mine Host Park 'n' Ride. Twenty lost souls seeking redemption in a cruel lost world... No? Well please....
Unsurprisingly, it hadn't begun well. Wishin' And Hopin' to get ahead of the game, the becatlittered** Bird had commenced operations Sunday at 6:33 pm. Two hours and thirty six minutes later and with 9.69 miles on the clock, a gibbering and mortally wounded maniac staggered back to his chariot. I will gloss over this sorry sob story as I do not wish to dwell further on the details.
A Sleepless in Seattle night followed with the extra bad news that thunderstorms were likely Monday which could well wipe out any marks laid - though the trail did not actually link up and needed a complete rethink. Shirley enough, a rumble of thunder at 7:45 am presaged a downpour which flooded my extension...
Never mind, another foray at 2 pm on this Day of Days saw a rough and ready 10K trail cobbled together. It wasn't pretty and A Wing and a Prayer summed it up. Unsure who was going to arrive, there was as yet no short or walkers' trails, but at least there was something to run out there.
A fine blend of anticipation and trepidation (on the hare's side) prevailed as the GM and Piltdown, complete with official clipboard, awaited. The babbling Bird was ordered back on station by the GM to direct any shorts and T Humper was tasked with organizing a walkabout, hereabouts or thereabouts.
Oh yes, Oh Dearly Beloved, it was a hash - for the loyal and battle-hardened longs at least. High up on Connybear Lane just off the footpath (and only salvation from the tarmac for the tiny band of shorts) I waited and counted the longs through: Flasher, Plonker, Artful Dogger, Beefy, Manpig, Popeye - still recovering from deep calf muscle tear and Pisswell - all game and up for it. I tried to mark their cards and bid them a tearful goodbye.
Putting the shorts marks down (merely sending them back down the lane to retrace their steps back home) I return-ed to mine chariot to head back to the watering hole at the Park.
As I turned, there was Coldtits coming round the corner. She was so understanding when I explained that she was merely going back the same way and I felt really guilty at the deception. Two hundred yards away there was the welcome sight of that grand hasher Archangel and I paused to apologize to him as well and I felt a tiny bit better for both of their understanding.
Great news in the Park as I saw that the Teignworthy Gundog 4.3 abv was on and at an amazing £3.60 a pint, Oh Wow with bells and ribbons on it!
However, it was still an anxious wait for my longs to get back, but get back they Shirley Valentine did. I really shouldn't have fretted Betty, as all Magnificent Seven hashers were some of our finest and well used to searching out missing or faded (yes, some marks had been savaged in the early monsoon) marks.
Beefy and Manpig apparently had gone for a swim post trail which left us puzzled - perhaps the drainage ditch down by the church? Where on earth would they find water? The answer was, of course, at MP's gaff and his heavily sawn-off Olympic sized pool.
Hashers were given the choice of returning home or entering the pub as individuals to have a drink. No RA'ing or DDs but simple social distancing and a chat over a beer or two - magic...
Plenty of space inside and out in the garden and wasn't it blissful being together once more.
A pint of Gundog, beautiful company with long-absent friends, quite simply a fantastic night. Nuff said.
Grateful thanks to our Grand Master and Piltdown for having the courage to put together and carry out the exercise.
*The header was to read: SHIRLEY VALENTINE & A DAZ BRILLIANT WHITE POOCH WITH A GUNDOG but I thought this was more relevant and perhaps, poignant in these Doomsday times..
**So let it be written, so let it be coined.
ON ON to next week with details to follow.
No comments:
Post a Comment