A WANDERING VIRGIN & BELLA GETS THE GREEN LIGHT

 

Run #1851 Monday 2nd November from the Wellington Inn at Ipplepen with hare Wet Johnny

Even more tardy are the words related this week, as I confess to a great melancholy which many of us may share. 

 

I beg your understanding for the confused jumble that follows:

 

Yes, Oh Dearly Devastated, hash, drink and be merry, afore the numbing November wilderness that Shirley awaits. 

 

Well, that should have cheered you up, so let's get ready to rumble.

 

They came to circle-up for the last round-up:

GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Teapot, Georgie, Able, visitor Mr X from H4, Pisswell, Steph, Natalie our virgin hasher, Beefy, Manpig, B Roads Hit going to risk it, SM Ellie, Slip on Me, SatNav, Jane with her wonderful wellies, Wet Johnny, Archangel, Coldtits, 69, Well Hopped, Big End & led Ned, Screwed & Bella. I think I got everybody.

 

Old friends, new friends and friends to be, gathered in the velvety, embracing darkness, faintly illuminated by a waning gibbous moon. Intimate, like a family affair, which of course it is, Oh Dearly Politically Incorrect Let Us Stick Together..

 

Ah, I feel a song coming on, so singalong with that seductive ladies swooning crooner*:

 

𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒏, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒏, 𝒍𝒆𝒕'𝒔 (𝒏𝒐𝒕) 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒂 𝒗𝒐𝒘 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓..

 

Yes, I know, I'm pertubalating** again.

 

Circle called to order and a virgin summoned for initiation. My, we hadn't seen this ceremony for many a wandering moon and you saw the joy in Teapot as he asked for flour to anoint the damsel new. And what was this? I do believe that a pair of new shoes were on show and gleefully did the R A supremo baptize the forbidden footwear.

 

An in depth pre-circle quizzing of the hare reveal-ed that the trail was heavily endowed with off-road and that a prodigious amount of the wet stuff had fallen - most recently at 5:30. 'But will I get away with my So Cruise road racers?' persisted he who should not be nam-ed. 'Do you remember the place you went a right royal purler last time? Well, it's even slippier now, so....'

 

Wet Johnny outlined the order of battle: A walkers' deluge delight, a soggy short of three or four and a long of five glorious miles.

 

The ON ON was called and with long warriors thin on the ground - Fukarwi on the road again - Beefy and the Karrimor clod-hoppered Bird sallied forth for the last Lockdown Long.

 

On skirting Orley Common, the second check materialized and the Bird waited (and recovered) to kick it out once Beefy had checked it out.

 

Whilst loitering with no particular place to go, (so we hashed way out on the Kokomo), a light approached from behind and a small dog attended by a young lady hove into sight. Naturally assuming it must be Well Hopped, I started a conversation, but was cut short by a 'I'm not with you lot!' and with a haughty sniff, she swept by... sigh. 

 

Just after a mile, B Roads Hit knew his hash was ended as the month long knee injury resurfaced and it was a lonely journey back to the chariot. Bad luck BroadS, but you'll be back, just like Arnie.

 

Meanwhile, back at the sharp end, Beefy and the Bird were puzzled. Where was old mucker ManPig? No sign of lights behind and for that matter, where were Big End and entourage? It was a rum do and no mistaka.

 

The crop denuded field of Agincourt mud opened up and on reaching the other side, the duo looked back to see a light commencing passage. Yes, it was ManPig who had been holding station some two hundred yards distant for a mile or two. But never mind, like all hashers true, his enjoyment of the trail was undiminished.

 

Shades of the previous week as we intersected with Coldtits on the short trail and had a chin-wag. Far away on the horizon, more lights appeared. It was beginning to get quite 'congested' out there but a Gold Star for the hare at cleverly combining the trails.

 

Past ye olde Church House Inn at Torbryan coursed the trailblazers. Glancing through the dimly lit window, two lonely and mournful drinkers were hunched over a table. And there ahead were Big End, Ned and Well Hopped, apparently on a short trail awayday.

 

Not so welcoming (trail shoes most unsuitable) road was encountered as we turned for home and came upon the l.e.d garlanded Bella who had got the green light with Screwed.

 

The last check awaited and Beefy chose right up the hill to espy Wet Johnny waiting for us accompanied by the long absent Manopause - nice to see you, to see you..

 

On her first hash, virgin Natalie, accompanied by Steph, went for a wander but both managed to get back to tell the tale. After seeing Beefy's Strava posting, they saw what had happened and are looking forward to next time.

 

Close to home, SM Ellie curiously appeared from the opposite direction. We never found out what exotic locations she had discovered on her village detour.

 

A pint or two of Otter in the Wellington put the seal on a very good evening.

 

*Bryan Ferry of course.

**Please tell me you didn't Google it.

 

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓

A professional trail lay by Wet Johnny and the five miles was exactly what was wanted. I know I harp on about my love of the rolling road, but with the correct footwear (for once), I really enjoyed the open country and muddy stretches aplenty. We thank you WJ for your well thought out and varied trail.

As hashers drifted away, Happy New Year greetings were exchanged as you never know, do you?

A closing tiny verse, intended for my own consumption to give even more cheer:

 

𝑶𝒉 𝒘𝒐𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒅𝒂𝒚, 𝒐𝒉 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒏

𝑶𝒖𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆

𝑨𝒏 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒂 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒓

𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒖𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆..

 

𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐍 to who knows when. Take care, hashers.