MAGIC MOONLIGHT ON THE TEIGN, ARCHANGEL HITS 800 & THE MYSTERY OF THE MISSING PILLOCK SHIRT

by Man-Pig and the Bird

 

Run #1951 Monday 9th January

 

From the Taphouse, Newton Abbot

 

 

HARE: Archangel

 

Who wuz there: Arkangel, Shitfaced, Man-Pig, Hotlips, Zoot, Ollie, Cheerio Beerio, Warmfront, Beefy, Pisswell, Piddler, Piltdown Man, Georgie Porgy, Smellie, Melon-Picker, Soapy, Wet-Johnny, Erection, Fukarewe, Ablesemen, Threesum, Slip-on-Me, Teapot, Ernie, Bluebird & Coldtits.

 

THE CIRCLE

Grand Master Shitfaced announced that annual subscriptions are now due at £30. Threesum announced that she'd put a deposit on a villa in the Bahamas and Smellie requires hares from 24th February onwards.

 

Man-Pig volunteered Bluebird for the Words. This was a "Thankyou" for having received the Hashshit shirt last week, "You - BLEEEEP".

 

Over to the Arkangel. "There are Walkers', Shorts', and longs' trails. No, Bluebird, I am not telling you how long they are". And we are jolly well off.

 

THE TRAIL according to MP

The Longs headed across the playing fields opposite the Taphouse whilst the Walkers and the Shorts headed down Teign Road towards the canal.

 

The Longs took a short loop around St John's Street and Salisbury Road before rejoining the Shorts and Walkers at the River Lemon. The trail then looped into the Brunel Industrial estate before following the footpath alongside the River Teign.

 

Where Aller Brook joins the Teign, the Walkers headed right and down the west side of Aller Brook whilst the Longs and Shorts continued downstream along the banks of the Teign.

 

We usually turn inland towards Buckland where the A380 passes over the Teign. Not this time. Instead, we continued along the Teign footpath for another 300 yards or so before crossing a small marshy area and climbing up into Wildwood Copse. At this point, Cheerio didn't want to get her feet wet and let out a large scream.....or was that Piddler poking her with one of his walking poles?

 

The reverse trail ran parallel with Besigheim Way passing between the A380 and Wildwood Crescent and Gilbert Road. We passed the children's play area and then the trail took us to the footbridge over the A380. Up to this point, I'd pretty much been on my own but then a flying Beefy passed me on the bridge.

 

The final Long/Short split had the Shorts heading into the Brunel Estate and along Forde Road back to the pub. The Longs went left running along the west side of Aller Brook towards Forde House. A check had us running into the gardens of Forde House and then.......nothing. Beefy was running round in circles. I checked three exits out of Forde House. Whilst I was looking for marks along the Torquay Road, I lost Beefy but I could see torchlight back in the garden. By the time I'd failed to find marks in the industrial estate, I'd lost contact with whomsoever had been in Forde House's gardens. I was just about to make my way to the On-Down when I thought I'd just check out the Penn Inn. Bingo! An arrow at the only exit I hadn't checked.

The trail now took the Longs up the east side of Aller Brook and up to the Walker/ Long & Shorts' split which had now been scrubbed out and replaced by an arrow. This took the Longs down Aller Brook's west bank. At the footbridge, the Longs' rejoined the Shorts' trail for the final canter back to the On-Down. 3.94 miles of which 0.7 miles was running around Forde House's garden!

 

A nice little wind down after Saturday's A2B.

 

PREAMBLE SQUAWK

The Bird came in the wistful hope that he would be better this week than the preceding week's calamity. He had barely survived the four-mile short and had been on an intravenous drip for three days after the debacle. The question of whether you can resuscitate a corpse was for the moment a moot point.

 

A goodly throng had assembled outside the Taphouse. Old mucker - careful with the spelling - Fukarwi was back, clutching a secret cache of cash, secreted from 'er indoors, for the subs. His new year's res, to attend regularly.

 

Warmfront had arrived on her trusty cycle from Chudleigh - oh to be young and magnificent once more!

 

Ernie, sans milk cart, was keeping his unblemished 2023 attendance intact, and it wouldn't be a hash without stalwarts Pisswell, Beefy, and Coldtits - though Bobby Woll was still in full hibernation mode. Man-Pig and I will wake him up in time for next week.

 

CIRCLE & TRAIL SNIPPETS by the Bird

A carefully orchestrated circle ensued. At great expense and with meticulous planning, the Teignbridge Trotters Couch to 5K group (aka the Sharks) were instructed to have a punch-up cum warm-up with the Jets (TVH you fools). Cue menacing West Side Story soundtrack.

 

The Bird shouted a warning: 'Here they are lads, let's get 'em!' But the Sharks were mob-handed and in the face of an oncoming blazing battery of headlights, the Jets held ranks. For their part, the Sharks also didn't like (it up 'em) the look of the motley crew waiting in ambush.

In complete silence, the Sharks passed by, wisely deciding against the punch-up option.

 

Man-Pig, predictably still irate over the heinous hidden Hashit shirt affair of last week, vented his fury on the unrepentant Bird, utilizing a four-letter word whose origin is still a matter of fierce debate by historians and linguists alike.

 

It appeared to be open season on the Bird as Smellie seemed to join in on the Bird-bashing. Being deaf, I failed to hear the utterance but as all eyes turned upon me, it may not have been complimentary.

 

Enough, desist, you must excuse my ramblings. I shall now return to the trail.

 

As Archangel refused to be drawn on distances, the short seemed a sensible option. The action was in front as the formidable Wet Johnny and fellow Penner, Erection, spearheaded the assault. 

 

Under the canal bridge, a group of potential delinquents was loitering in a tent outside an opium den. Expecting verbal abuse, I was pleasantly surprised by a lone cry: 'Ooh look, he's got finger lights!' Cancel delinquents and substitute well-behaved little darlings.

 

Catching up with the Penners it was made official that we were the advance party. Wishing to delay the moment Beefy et al caught up, I pressed on. The arrows were greatly appreciated.

Turning off onto the River Teign footpath, I sensed I was alone. Looking back - nothing. No dots and I had the disquietening feeling that I was off-trail. A few moments later, many head torches appeared at the kissing gate, the game was still at least a foot long.

 

Rounding a bend, a magnificent moonlit riverscape unfolded. A deep orange Wolf Moon hung low in the sky, projecting a broad ribbon of moonlight down the River Teign. What an amazing sight our hare had prepared for us completely free of charge.

 

So engrossed was I with the spell-binding scene, I narrowly missed falling into a large puddle. For a moment I considered hurdling the water jump before sanity returned.

 

The arrows were straight as, well, an arrow, remaining reliable as I scrambled up a bank into the woods. A light manifested itself below - I had tarried too long at the moon show and now the longs were on me. Fortunately, it was a single long - Warmfront. No contest, I waved her past and watched in admiration as she rapidly left me in her wake.

 

A few hundred yards later and Wet Johnny caught up. How long will an elastic band stretch before it snaps? I managed to stretch it to twenty yards before Wet Johnny kindly eased off.

So much had happened along the highways and byways that it came as something of a shock to discover we had only recorded two miles as we paused on the outskirts of the town centre.

Just as well, I was spent and Wet Johnny knew it as he surveyed the near-lifeless body on the pavement. Helping me to my feet after my collapse, he said that we would just do a little extra around the canal bank before adjourning to the refreshment tent.

 

We picked up part of the first long split before mercifully turning for home. Thanks, Wet Johnny, good job you were having an easy run.

 

THE DOWN-DOWNS

The Hare had arranged with Chris at the Taphouse to open especially for us. This is because the tap house is usually closed on Mondays in January. Hence the first order of service was to thank Chis for opening and the beers. Thank you.

 

Horned hat from Piddler to Melon-Picker for achieving septuagenarian status. "Here's to the septuagenarian....."

 

Replacement jester's hat (as baby Bat hat had been left at home) from Smellie to Man-Pig for very nearly turning up the Hash with his slippers but without his trainers. "Hold it in your hand Mrs. Murphy....."

 

Birthday down-down for Piltdown Man's birthday the following day; all the right notes - not necessarily in the right order.

 

The Hashshit shirt needed a new home. There were quite a few contenders. The first contender was Smellie for dropping Man-Pig in the quagmire by recounting the story of the wardrobe malfunction re substituting his trainers for slippers! The next contender was Fukarewe. Some shenanigans regarding electricity consumption at their abode. Third up was the screamer. Who was screaming on trail? It was Cheerio Beerio in a botched attempt to cross a small puddle. (Could that have been my water-jump?)

 

However, none of the previous three could contend with the award of an 800-run badge. Who could be so bored as to have attained the dizzy heights of 800 runs? None other than our Hare for the evening - Archangel....."Get a life, life, life......"

 

Finally, there was a rather strange award. Brandishing a tee shirt, Teapot seemed to be offering up lost property. 'Anyone here own the Pillock of the Year 2019 shirt?' A perplexed and frowning Bird stepped hesitantly forward. 'Well, it must be me, but where did I leave it?' An answer was not forthcoming to the riddle, and the half of heavily-chlorinated tap water was downed.

 

On examination of the shirt, it became clear that it was brand new and had never been worn. Back home, I searched the archive and the mystery was solved. Dear Winfield had posted the awardees from the Union Inn at Denbury, but curiously there was no mention of a Pillock Award. I had been unable to make the Union Inn and so had thought that there was no Pillock that year. The surprise awarding was somehow forgotten and the shirt has languished in Teapot's bag of tricks for over three years!

 

Never mind, better late...

 

POSTSCRIPT

A great evening and Archangel showed that a trail doesn't have to be long to succeed. The highlight had to be the spectacular orange moon along the Teign, captured so well by Beefy and Pisswell (her photo posted here).

 

The Taphouse is fast becoming a hash favourite and we will be returning there at the end of the month.

 

Rest assured that Man-Pig and the Bird are still friends but bear in mind that the friendship will come under strain again next Monday with the Bird having an unsettling habit of going Wong Wei.

 

Last word - Congratulations to Archangel on getting his 800 run badge!

 

NEXT WEEK

Next week's Hash is from The Crown and Sceptre, St Marychurch. The Hares will be Bluebird, Man-Pig, and, perhaps, Bobbiball - but he doesn't know anything about it yet!

 

ON ON to next week.