MING THE MERCILESS, BECHER'S BROOK & A POSSIBLE WONG WEI

Run #1850 Monday 26th October from the Park Inn, Kingskerswell with hare I-Poo'd's Birthday trail

'𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒈𝒂𝒖𝒏𝒕, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒅, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒐𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒕

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚'𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒅, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒊𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒏 '𝒆𝒎 𝒚𝒆𝒕...'

 

Back to Headquarters for I-Pood's Birthday hash and an oasis hiatus in the curtain of autumnal depressions.

 

Prove to me that you're no fool* and recall those present:

 

GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Teapot, 3Sum, Gag4It, Triple Jump, Brenda, Fukarwi, Roxanne, Harry, Wet Johnny, Gianluca, Big End, Small End, Ned, Well Hopped, Dad, I-Poo'd, T Humper, Archangel, Wiggy, Beefy, ManPig, SM Ellie, Slip on Me, Coldtits and special celebrity visit (and run) of Poacher and wingman Compo. Bobby Woll** arrived après trail for a diesel top-up.

 

Arriving late at the circle - test jog to see if it was possible to run - darkened figures were assembled for the pep talk and only a brief opportunity to check who was there. A number of tiny hashers were evident: Roxanne with Harry; Wet Johnny had brought along another Mini-Me - Gianluca and likewise Big End with a Small End (never did find out the nerd name).

 

A hashing milestone at #1850 and the expectant huddle half thought a tee shirt would be on offer, but the GM only celebrated the hashing landmark with a question about the first university to run a X country, Oh Dearly Robbed of a Memento..

 

Over to the hare(s) and a couple of stark warnings which sharpened the senses: Livestock in a field and the best angle of attack plus a stile that might 𝗘𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗗𝗮𝘆𝘀 (1999 Arnie) for the unwary.

 

The Go With Thy God was slightly anticipated by a pumped up and warmed up Bird who flew the coop (liked that so much last week, thought I'd try it again) and took wing down the hill, ignoring the vet's warning of a possible coronary.

 

With ears flat back and eyes narrowed, he waited for the Assassin to inevitably pass, not knowing that Wet Johnny would not be playing tonight, but having a day off training a wannabe assassin.

It was familiar territory down across the railway line and hard a port heading south up to the South Devon Highway flyover, safari so good, muchachos.

 

The footfalls and the flickering torches astern closed up as we crested the flyover and the L/S walkers split mark was espied. Thank you I-Poo'd, relief at not turning off into the shiggy either side and all hail the hill, Harry.

 

The tiny troops and hashing dads were formed up and Fukarwi - he that is patently lacking in fitness Shirley, was able to tag along for the ride.

 

Up and ever upwards ManPig, Beefy and the Bird endured and a windmill was mentioned by ManPig which seemed a good place to build one - on top of a mountain..

Breasting the summit and then:

 

𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒂𝒘

𝑨-𝒑𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒌𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒖𝒑 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅𝒚 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒘

 

Come on, singalong with Johnny Cash and the Ghost Hashers in the Sky:

 

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒍

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒉𝒐𝒕 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍..

𝒀𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒆 𝒚𝒊 𝒐𝒐𝒉

𝒀𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒆 𝒚𝒊 𝒚𝒂𝒚

𝑮𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝑯𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒚...

 

Didulikethat? No? Well I did anyway.

 

Warily did the dread three steer [sic] past the mighty herd, but hold hard Harry, the next obstacle loom-ed large - the fearsome stone drop stile AKA Becher's Brook on the National course at Aintree. The hashers with hooves of steel leapt over with alacrity but the delicate one hesitated, sensing, as always, his imminent demise and had to be assisted by Beefy.

 

The entrance to Compton Castle appeared on the left as we changed direction and the promise of the Gun Dog urged us onwards.

 

Glancing back, Beefy's light had disappeared and the thought was that his knee injury had forced an abandon, so it was a relief that he appeared safely a short time after the finish.

 

ManPig was on a mission and pushed on. Suddenly, a harriet appeared from the right hand track - it was SM Ellie and I stopped for a quick 'We must stop meeting like this..' and ManPig was quickly fifty yards to the good and going for glory. Into Snakey Copse and there, in the distance, was another short trail hasher and he was going pretty well. 

 

For a moment I thought it was Big End (same blue jacket), but as I closed, found it was Wiggy who confirmed later that for a few moments out there, he felt he was going great guns.

 

Ming the Merciless ManPig wasn't going to let 10 Grand Prix points slip from his grasp and continued to pour it on - right into his chateau which was most handily placed for a quick wash 'n' brush up.

 

There was no hiding from the all-seeing eye in the sky GPS, which revealed a possible Wong Wei by dear Coldtits nearing the end of her run. Arriving back at the railway bridge near the church, she embarked on another lap before eventually turning back.

 

Shirley Suspicion fell on the Bird when he arriv-ed back alone at the Park fifty minutes after departure. 'Did you see the castle?' enquired 3Sum to wit the reply from the dim-witted one [sic] was 'What castle? ...sigh

 

Now for a well-earned Gun Dog. Over and out for now, Oh Long Suffering Readers.

 

*And walk across my swimming pool - from the 1970 rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar.
**Sad news that the real Bobby Ball passed away this very evening.

 

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓

Testing and well laid trails, with all tastes catered for and a lot of work put in by I-Poo'd and company. The shorts at 4.19 miles (courtesy of Coldtits Strava) was only a mile shorter than the longs so they are to be congratulated on their efforts out there. The walking trail was an interesting figure of eight 1.47 miles (courtesy of 3Sums Strava).

 

The individuals that dropped by into the Park were particularly well looked after by a very hard working and attentive Park 'n' Ride - thank you 'Dad'! Some great photos posted of I-Poo'd enjoying laying the trail and a very Happy Birthday to you from everyone with thanks for all your efforts. In closing, a good time had by all and it was good to see Poacher again, cheers my old son.

 

𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐍 with everlasting hope in our hearts to next week from the Wellington Inn at Ipplepen with hare Wet Johnny.