"A TALE OF TWO CITIES" (or pubs?)

(Words by Charles Dickens and Jim Steinman)

TVH3 The Words for 16th May 2022 

 

The Bishop Lacy, Chudleigh (or was it?) Run No. 1917

 

HARES: Soapy and Melonpicker

 

Who wuz there: Melonpicker, Soapy, Shitfaced, Cheerio Beerio, Man-Pig, Archangel, Beefy, Pisswell, Ernie, Forrest-Stump, Coldtits, Rambo, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Big End, Well Hopped, Ned, Manopause, Wet-Johnny, Bobbiball, Zoot, Hotlips, Slip-on-Me, Ablesemen, Wetfart, Swinger.

'It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. We had everything before us. We had nothing before us'. These Words, immortalised in Charles Dickens' A tail of Two Cities pretty much summed up the evening.

 

It had been a long, long time since Teign Valley had run from the Bishop Lacy. So long, in fact, that our illustrious GM confirmed that he'd never run from there. The senior citizens of the hash cast their minds back probably no more than 7 or 8 years. Back then, and indeed way before that, there was a time when Chudleigh was Hash Central.

 

Back then, TVH3 very rarely ran from the same pub more than twice a year. The two exceptions being the Bishop Lacy and the Teign House Inn run by Robin and Wendy and Captain Pugwash respectively. Both pubs have a long history of making the Hash so very welcome. And, with that in mind, the oldies were looking forward to a return to our roots and reminiscing about the Good Old Days.

 

Even in his absence, Bluebird still managed to trace the history of our last run from the Bishop Lacey; way back in 2018 - staggering.

 

It was fitting that our return to the Bishop Lacy should be organised by one of Teign Valley's most senior Hares, Melonpicker, on the cusp of his 70th birthday (or was Melonpicker just angling for free Down-Downs on two consecutive weeks?). We will never know. What a fantastic effort. I wonder how many more of us will Hare into our 70s; a brilliant inning by anyone's standards.

Enough of the nostalgia. What about the run?

 

The Circle

We circled up in Chudleigh's main car park. Shitfaced asked for any announcements. There were effectively none. Nonetheless, Rambo advised the Circle that the run diary was now full through to September. Well done all those volunteer Hares.

 

The Trail

Soapy gave a brief description of the trail, including approximate lengths and scant details of a secret sweetie stop. Then Melopicker ruined it all by querying the distances and then telling everyone where the sweeties were. And with that, we were off.

 

Left out of the car park, left again and through the roads and alleyways of a newish housing estate with checks aplenty. Along Greathill before turning right onto Oldway and heading southwest before another right and down a steep lane towards the sewage works.....lovely. Under the A38 before arriving at the first Long/Short split. The Shorts stayed on a footpath entering Chudleigh Wood and climbing steeply uphill. Over a stile and then downhill to the lower end of Parr's Lane.

 

The Longs, meanwhile, climbed over a steel gate and headed for the River Teign near Huxbear Bridge (an old railway bridge unused since the Beeching cuts in the mid-sixties).

 

Wet Johnny was way out in front. Pursuers comprised Ernie, Manopause, Man-Pig, Forrest Stump, Beefy, Pisswell, Swinger, Big End, and Well Hopped. The trail along the banks of the Teign was in an open field and re-entered woodland at Putshills. 

 

A little further along, we climbed another steel gate and continued along the Teign, but no marks. Beefy and Man-Pig continued all around a field almost up to Northwood Farm before realising that there was no one behind us.

 

Back to the gate over which we'd clambered not 5 minutes earlier - marks! We should never have crossed into the field. It had been a sharp U-turn and up to the top edge of Chudleigh Woods. We passed Smellie who is still constrained to walking on Doctor's orders. 

 

Soon we rejoined the Shorts' trail at the stile existing Chudleigh Woods; passing Able Semen and Slip-on-Me before hitting the end of Parr's Lane. Bobbiball was another backmarker but the Shorts and Longs (who hadn't had a jolly jaunt around an unmarked field) were within sight. At the top of Parr's Lane, we came to the sweetie top.

 

All too soon, we were dropping back into Chudleigh across a flyover and then the inevitable - a check. This had us going left along a footpath (now enclosed) before crossing Old Exeter Street where a Walkers/Long Short split offered a shortcut back to the car park. For the non-Walkers, it was down and across New Exeter Road and thence down past the cricket field to the bowling club at Old Kate Bridge and another check. This narrow lane was choc-a-bloc with cars. I never knew that bowling was so popular and the bowling green was packed with smiling retirees enjoying an early summer's evening. It all looked rather tranquil.

 

The check had been kicked out right along Kate Brook. The old footpath soon gave way to a new footpath-cum-cycle path before hitting tarmac at Towerhill and the final Long/Short split.

 

The Shorts had a straight run northwest back to the car park. The Longs went up Towerhill, towards Uggbrook House, for a short while before the trail took us right and along a track known as Garden Spot Lane. An arrow had us turning left through an iron kissing gate and then right through another. At this point, Wet-Johnny and Beefy were ahead of the Pig. But, in close pursuit were Big End, Ned, Well Hopped, and Swinger. This footpath ran at the lower edge of some woodland before crossing an open field, another two kissing gates, and re-entering Chudleigh near Rock Road. An absence of marks had Beefy and Wet-Johnny checking unsuccessful avenues. The Pig found the trail on Rock Road before turning right onto Parkway Road. I had expected the trail to take us up the ginnel next to the church but no. 

 

The trail followed Parkway Road up to its junction with Clifford Street where it joined up with the Shorts' trail. In no time at all, we were back at Chudleigh car park and looking forward to renewing our acquaintance with an old friend - The Bishop Lacy.

 

The Down-Downs

Once back in the car park it was a quick change of clothes for the 300 yards jaunt down to The Bishop Lacy where Robin and Wendy were opening up, especially for us. A special treat organised by the Hares. We were so looking forward to the piping hot sausages and chips that Robin and Wendy were putting on the bar for us hungry hashers. I could almost smell the sausages....ahhhhhhhh!

 

STOP RIGHT THERE!

Before you go any further, are you hungry? Will you be hungry forever?

Well, let me sleep on it. I'll give you the answer in the morning.

I gotta know right now. Are you hungry?

Yes....and thirsty!

Then a phone call. It was Arkangel.

"There is no room at the inn".

Hmmm, it's not Christmas Eve pondered the Pig.

Apparently, The Bishop Lacy, which does not usually open on a Monday, still wasn't open on a Monday. 

 

It eventually transpired that Wendy hadn't put Melonpicker's request in the pub diary. Poor Robin was Home Alone (1990) and had no staff to attend the bar as it is Robin who usually mans the kitchen.

C'est la vie. With that news, it was an about turn and a quick yomp back up to the car park via the Ship Inn. The 300-yard retreat was not without its incidents. The first involved an elderly pedestrian attempting to cross the road opposite a charity shop by means of the pedestrian crossing. An even more elderly gentleman was driving up the road at a sedate 15 mph. We could see that he was old by the way in which he was hunched over the wheel of his rather battered silver Peugeot estate. It all happened in slow motion - as these things always do. The car appeared to slow. The pedestrian stepped onto the crossing. Nothing happened. The car kept moving at 15 mph. The pedestrian was about to take his second step across the crossings. IMPACT! Well, not quite. A startled pedestrian leapt back just in time as the car continued its crawl across the crossing. Its driver completely oblivious to the near-death collision.

 

The second event was to check:

a) was the Ship open?

and

b) could they accommodate twenty-plus hungry and thirsty Hashers?

The answer was:

Yes. No. Yes.

Yes. Please come in.

No. I'm afraid that we don't do food.

Yes. We do do beer.

And with that we were Inn - so to speak.

 

This is the first time that I'd even been into the Ship. It is a good old-fashioned boozer. Simple and unpretentious. It has a pool table, a jukebox, and a TV. A real locals' pub. Indeed, half a dozen locals were watching a football match on the box with teams that I've never heard of, "New" and "Ars". The landlord made us very welcome as we huddled in a slightly elevated part of the bar next to those glued to the footie, or was that the Ars they were looking at?

 

Before long, it was halftime and our cue to move to the other end of the bar, to minimise disturbance to the football supporters, to do the Down-Downs. This week it was Forrest-Stump's turn to preside over the proceedings. 

 

Being our first time in the Ship, it would have been far too presumptuous to ask the landlord to sub the Down-Downs so I believe the Hare paid for them all. Bravo! 

 

Just as the Down-Downs were about to commence, Forrest decided that a quick rendition of Bobbiball, Bobbiball, etc was called for. Once that was out of the way, Forrest delivered the Down-Downs in reverse order.

 

First up were the Hares, Soapy and Melonpicker, intertwining arms. Here's to the Hares etc etc.

Second up it was Melonpicker again. This time for his birthday which is on Friday. All the right notes - not necessarily in the right order. I do hope that the second half hadn't started!

 

Third, in the order of proceedings were a couple of badges to assign; 200 runs for Beefy and 700 runs for Soapy. Down-Downs were dispatched to the sounds of "Hold it in your hand, Mrs . Murphy...." for Beefy and "Get a life, life, life" for Soapy.

 

Next, it was over to the awards. Forrest had the Jester's hat from the previous week but couldn't think of a story. However, Man-Pig had one or two to recount. The first story related to the near RTA at the pedestrian crossing earlier in the evening. Here it was revealed that the identity of the elderly pedestrian was none other than Man-Pig and that the doddery driver was Forrest Stump - obviously on a mission to commit porcuscide! However, the hat was not going straight back to Forrest. The Pig asked Hotlips to recount a conversation, earlier in the week between his PA and a senior member of the Hash.

 

The story recounted went something like this:

"I have some information that could make you a very rich woman".

"Now what would that be?"

The senior hasher proved details of this almost fool-proof, but not perhaps hasher-proof, plan of how to access free cash. The senior hasher then asked, "And what might I receive in return for this valuable information?"

"Anything you want for that amount!"

 

And so it transpired that the Jester's hat went to Cheerio Beerio to the tune of "Here's to a lady of easy virtue. She's a hasher through and through etc......." Well. Not quite. Cheerio will be sick if she drinks beer. With no WKD immediately to hand, Cheerio nominated Piddler to accept the Down-Down on her behalf. Despite the transgendering, the (Down-Down) Song Remained the same.

 

Next, it was Melonpicker's turn to tell a story. This involved the stand-off between a stubborn Ginger Tom and Slip-on-Me's dog....a lurcher I think. A Down-Down to Slip-on-Me and a note for the ginger pussy dogger.

 

Forrest was just about to wrap up proceedings by asking, "Where's next week's hash running from?" when Coldtits came forward. She had the Hashit shirt from the previous week. It was also the Old Hashshit shirt that had been in hiding for at least 6 months until Smellie had mysteriously found it in her bag (the culprit's still out there Smellie). I really cannot remember the misdemeanor for the life of me. However, the shirt went to Pisswell and I'm sure for good reason.

 

We concluded the evening with Soapy handing out cake to celebrate Melopicker's upcoming birthday. Regrettably, it was a bought cake so we were not treated to one of Soap's fantastic works of art. It always seems such a shame to cut into any of Soapy's cakes. There really has been a fantastic selection over the years!

 

Epilogue

Well, this wasn't quite the end of the evening; a rather sorry tale to tell. As Hashers were leaving the pub a rather dejected-looking Bobbiball scuffled past. He looked up forlornly, "It's my birthday tomorrow" and left. I am so sorry Bobby. I had no idea. Next week. Next week.

 

Next week

 

Hound Tor car park with Hare, Pisswell assisted by Beefy. The On-Down is The Rugglestone.

On-On to next week