TVH3 Run No. 1887 25th October 2021
VENUE: Wick-Dipper and Mouldy Dick's Residence, Clennon Heights, Paignton
HARES: Wick-Dipper and Mouldy Dick
ROLL CALL:
Mouldy Dick, Wick-Dipper, Francesca, Amy, Shit-Faced, Piltdown-Man,
Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Strap-On, Triple Jump, Anne, Twisted Tart,
Man-Pig, Ali, Able Seamen, Beefy, Pisswell, Pollyfella, Coldtits, Rambo,
Erection, Manopause, Mini-Penners (3), Wet-Johnny, The Artful Dogger,
Big-End (sans Ned), Well-Hopped, Swinger.
APOLOGIES:
Bluebird (injured) and apologies for omitting the following from last
week's roll call - Bobbiball, Wet Fart, Artful Dogger and the moaning
Piddler.
THE CIRCLE
The
venue had been advertised as the Wick Dipper/Mouldy Dick residence.
BYOB but sausage and chips would be provided by the hosts....yummy.
Although the temperature had dropped a little, it was still warm for the
time of year. So it was that 31 souls descended (or should that be
ascended?) upon Wicky and Mouldy's abode. One thing is for sure, we were
all going to finish this trail with an uphill slog. It was good to see
Twisted Tart again; only the second time in 10 years! I was also
intrigued to see her new toy - a Ford Mustang SUV. "Five litre V8?", I
enquired? "No. All electric" - that's progress I guess.
The
Circle announcements comprised Shitfaced advising us that next week was
going to be a fancy dress Halloween Hash, "Come dressed up!". 3Sum then
confirmed that there would be a Christmas raffle this year with tickets
at £1 a strip. The raffle would take place at the Kings Arms,
Kingsteignton - the date eludes me....again. Over to Mouldy. "There was a
long, short and a walkers' trail. The long would be circa 6
miles.....". How we laughed? Mouldy laying a six miler? Not on your
Nelly. However, we would all be laughing on the other side of our faces
by the end of the trail. Mouldy continued, "Shorts, 4 miles". More
merriment and incredulity. "Walkers to be determined. Follow Wick
Dipper". "The marks maybe a long way from the checks" (he wasn't
kidding!). "If you see flour - you're ON". We took this to mean one dot
and you're ON.
THE RUN
The
trail did not take us straight down Clennon Rise. Instead it was across
onto Osney Crescent. The first check had everyone bamboozled but
Well-Hopped opted to check out the Osney Avenue cul-de-sac. Success. At
the end of the cul-de-sac, there is a footpath that took us to Fisher
Street and the first Long-Short split. The Longs went up Fisher Street
before a check had us going down Elmsleigh Road and across the railway
line.
We
continued down Sands Road and then onto Queens Road. Another check and
the mini-Penners got us on trail, across Queens Park and on to the
Apollo Cinema. Another check and left for a simple loop around Paignton
Green. Well, not that simple.
Nearly
15 minutes were spent checking hither and thither before Wet-Johnny
decided, "It must be down the coast towards Roundham Head". As we passed
Paignton Pier, we picked up the trail again, heading due south along
the seafront and through the arch into Paignton Harbour. Around the
harbour, onto Roundham Road and then left onto Cliff Road before
dropping down for our zig-zag around Roundham Gardens. From here it was
pretty much a reverse run of Mouldy's trail from 2 years ago. All along
the seafront, past Goodrington Sands and Water World and up to the
viewpoint above Three Beaches. Here another check had us on a path
turning inland and exiting onto Dartmouth Road opposite Grange Road.
Turning
left off Grange Road, we followed the trail due west on an uphill
footpath towards Clennon Hill. We were on trail....but which trail? The
next thing we see is Erection, Manopause and Small Erection coming
towards us. Were they still on the Short? A U-turn for the Longs and a
descent to where the Longs and Shorts merged. The descent was a tad
slippery as we gingerly headed towards the Clennon Lakes and crossed
Clennon Valley Park and picked up the trail again at Brentwood Drive.
This
is where we simultaneously lost the trail. We could only check left or
right. Wet-Johnny and Big End went left. Man-Pig and Polyfella went
right.....for ages. It was not until we reached the junction with
Penwill Way did we find another mark....only 600 yards between dots
here! Mouldy was not joking when he said, "You might need to go a long
way before you find a mark!". Down to Dartmouth Road and, at last, the "On Home" sign.
This
was way longer than any of us had expected. The stoic Mini-Penners had
stayed with us and put in a good pace. A fantastic effort by our young
hashers. But not quite as fantastical as the Artful Dogger's recount of
the trail. He had turned up late and ended up doing the entire trail on
his own. However, we're not quite sure which trail he was following.
Sometimes it was the Long; sometimes the Short and sometimes no trail at
all. The trail on his Strava looked like someone had deposited a plate
of spaghetti all over his iPhone. He must have clocked up 11 or 12 miles
even though his, obviously malfunctioning, techno-gizmo had only
recorded a paltry 7 miles!
A very good run, made all the better by the long distance between the marks......which kept hashers guessing.
THE DOWN-DOWNS
Back at the Wick-Dipper residence, Mouldy had erected a large tent in his back garden. This was the improvised On-Down,
restaurant and pub for the evening. Although the run had been dry, the
rain was just commencing as the last of the Longs were returning. Hence
it was with some relief that we found ourselves under cover in a large,
but nevertheless snug tent for the Down-Downs.
As
the rain started to increase in intensity. the floor of the tent began
to get wet as hashers traipsed from car to tent, loo to tent, kitchen to
tent, rabbit hutch to tent etc. I was, therefore, both delighted and
surprised to observe Shitfaced dutifully mopping up the damp patches
with an old rag. How thoughtful of him!
The first award was actually an award outstanding from a fortnight ago - the jester's hat. Beefy awarded it to Wet-Johnny
for, as the Yank's say, "hitting on me". Apparently, Wet-Johnny had
made the comment, "Hey. Looking good tonight Beefy!". Does your wife
know about this Wet-Johnny?
Big-End
had the horse's head hat to dish out. There was some story about an
experienced hasher not being very good at checking. Despite covering 400
yards along the seafront at Paignton Green, this hasher had not found a
mark and had turned back shouting "No marks". Had he persevered for
another 5 yards he would have found five closely spaced dots. The error
of his ways had been compounded by the fact that the Hare had told him
where to go. Who on earth could be so stupid? Man-Pig did, indeed, look more and more sheepish as this sorry tale unfolded and was duly awarded a down-down for appalling checking.
It
was Smellie's turn to name and shame as she had the third award of the
night to allocate to some deserving soul. Well, I don't know how long
Smellie had been back in the tent or how much she'd been drinking. The
narrative regarding the award was all about erections. Big ones. Small
ones. Canvas ones. She couldn't get enough of them! Ultimately it turned
out to be a story about child exploitation.
Seasoned Hasher, Erection
(that's Big Erection) really couldn't be bothered doing the checks.
However, just like Santa, he had a little helper - his son. Hence, on
arriving at a check, Big Erection would send his son (Small Erection)
checking for marks. A vote was taken on whether the down-down should go
to the big or small erection with the Big Erection winning the vote......a vote for Ivor Biggun then.
Finally,
Shitfaced had the Hashshit shirt to award. The soiled, damp rag that he
held before the gaping crowd seemed peculiarly familiar. Why? It was
the rag that he'd spent all evening wiping the tent floor with! What sin
was so heinous that it deserved such an award? Once again the story
reverted back a fortnight to the run from the Rugglestone. Apparently,
one hasher had made a bit of a night of it. So much so that, when he got
home, he only made it as far as the bathroom; never even seeing his bed
till the following day. Which party animal could this be? None other
than the Hare for that evening - Beefy. Well, Beefy
wriggled and squirmed suggesting that the Hashshit shirt was big enough
to fit over what he was already wearing. The crowd were having none of
it. "Off. Off", they bayed. Reluctantly, Beefy donned the odorous, dank
rag and sank his down-down.
There was one beer left but no awards. What to do? In time honoured tradition, Mouldy awarded himself the last down-down and made it disappear in pretty swift order.
Well done Wick-Dipper and Mouldy
for your hospitality, the trail and the venue. It must have taken a
fair old while to get that tent up. Let's hope that it dries up soon to
allow you to take it down and pack it away dry.
Next week the venue is the Devon Arms, Teignmouth. It is a fancy dress Halloween run.
Judging by the map gazing taking place in Mouldy's tent I'm guessing
that our Hares will be Polyfella, Coldtits and Smellie. I am advised
that the beer on tap is Gun Dog or Deckhand and that food can be got
from the chippy and brought into the pub.
On-On to next week!
Post script: The Revenge of the Rabbit Worrier?
We
had a bit of difficulty locating Wet-Johnny for the Down-Downs. He was
the only one not in the tent. Apparently he was worrying the rabbits
and, as his name suggests, getting wet. Read into that what you will?
