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.
