I'M SINGIN' IN THE RAIN & A TALE OF TWO TWITTIES

The Monks' Retreat, Broadhempston

 

Run No. 1977 11 July 2023

 

HARES: Fukarewe & Prickley Bush aided by Pole Dodger

 

Who wuz there: Fukarewe, Prickly Bush, Pole Dodger, Shitfaced, Man-Pig, Archangel, Cheerio-Beerio, Threesum, Bluebird, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Beefy, Pisswell, Broadshit, Scott, Coldtits, Beeflicker, Ned, Well Hopped, Ernie, Wetfart, U-Bend, Pork Torpedo, Horny, Fallen Woman, Broken Man, Soapy, Melon Picker, Satnav, Piddler, returnees Rent Boy & Diane, Ollie and plethora of local newbies recruited by the Hare including a chap with a brolly; in total 50!

 

Circle

The forecast was grim - a 90% chance of rain at 7pm. For a change the forecast was correct. It was, therefore, a huge surprise that the pack had swollen to 50! The reason for the huge pack was due to a recruitment drive in the village by the Hares. Such was the success of their recruitment drive, I can only assume that the new faces were all pleurophiles. It was wet and was going to get much wetter.

 

Smellie put out a call for a volunteer Hare for 31 July. Piltdown Man had a final plug for TVH's Grand Day Out on Saturday - an all day A to B style trail. Let's hope that it's a tad drier on Saturday. In addition, Soapy advertised the Turkish meal in Newton Abbot after the run.

 

The Hare then stepped into the huge circle to describe the run. The Walkers' trail would be about 3 miles. The Shorts' 3.5 and the Longs' around 5 miles. Great. We should all be back in the pub just after 8.30. The sooner the better as it was beginning to pelt down. 

 

Furthermore, there would be not one, but two, sweetie stops and three Long/Short splits. The marks could either be in sawdust, chalk or flour.....if any are still left?

 

The Trail

Our local virgins were a mixed bunch. At one end of the spectrum we clearly had some FRB'ing athletes. At the other end of the spectrum, we had some seniors who would, no doubt, be tackling the trail at a more leisurely pace. These were interspersed with everything in-between.

 

Local folklore has it that Broadhempston has four roads in but only three out! Local knowledge would come in useful.

 

The trail started by passing the the village car park and entrance to the new village hall to our left before arriving at the first Long/Short split. 

 

The Shorts' went right and down Small Lane. The Longs' continued onwards and an arrow took us right and though a gate into what appeared to be allotments. I'm not sure if I'd been in there before.

 

Having navigated our way around the allotment, we found ourselves on New Lane heading back into the village. We passed the Coppa Dollar and almost missed the arrow that took us down and then up Daniel's Lane and onto Wotten Way.

 

At this point, we began to catch up with the Shorts'. This included our returnees from Spain, Rent Boy and Diane. 

 

A left and then a right and we were heading uphill on the "main" road that would eventually take you back to Ipplepen. We passed Scott and Broadshit just before arriving at the hairpin left hander where Prickly Bush and Pole Dodger ensured that we didn't end up in Ipplepen as they guided us onto a public footpath.

 

Up and across two fields and past the transmitter and then into a small plantation atop a hill we went until encountering a check. 

 

Some had gone straight ahead. Erection, a seasoned Hasher, stood by the check whilst the Pig and the Bird took the right hand fork.

 

On-On, even though both tracks arrive at the same place.

 

We exited the plantation on high ground. In front, we could see the FRB's down below. A couple of FRB's had gone to the right and were now running back to the left. Big mistakatomaka as some, but not all, eventually found out.

 

We had done this trail a couple of times before, but usually from the other direction. I think the last time we did it was on a Wet-Johnny trail. The obvious route would have been to the left and back to Broadhempston via Torbryan. 

 

Halfway down the slope there is a stile and a field boundary/fence. This was the last mark that I saw for almost 20 minutes.

 

Sheeplike, the Bird and I followed the pack down onto the lane at Ambrook. Quite a few FRB's were on the lane looking for non-existent marks and some had already hightailed it towards Poole Cross.

 

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. Wet-Johnny was convinced that this was similar to one of his trails but in reverse. The FRB'ing Broadhempstoners thought likewise including our be-brollied Dutchman. It was full speed ahead to Poole Cross. At the back of the FRB's were Erection, Wet-Johnny, Well Hopped, Ned, Man-Pig and Bluebird. 

 

Something was amiss. NO MARKS!

 

The Pig and the Bird had an uneasy feeling and slowed. By the time we reached Poole Cross, all the FRB's were out of sight except Erection. Had they gone left or right? Road all the way back to Broadhempston or via Torbryan? 

 

Erection made the decision to make a beeline back to Broadhempston via road. The Bird and Pig checked out towards Torbyan. Nothing. No marks. No calling. No returning Hashers off-trail.

"Let's follow Erection and see if we find marks" suggested the Piggy one. After 500m we found nothing apart from a solitary blob of four. But this was in the middle of the road. It was definitely flour but is didn't look like a mark.

 

"OK. Back to the last mark at the field boundary above Ambrook".

 

The Bird wrung out about a pound of water from his singlet. The Pig re-donned his Ron Hill waterproof....don't know why, and back to Ambrook we jolly well trotted. Here we came across Shitfaced and friend just about to backtrack the Longs'.

 

"Are you on trail?" asked the Pig.

 

"Yes. I think so. We've only just come out of the field 20 yards back".

 

Sure enough, 50 yards further on there was a second footpath exiting onto the lane. What was more, most of the local Walkers' trail were coming down it. 

 

The penny dropped. At the fenced field boundary we should have gone right and not left. Beeflicker should have stuck to his guns as he was on trail.

 

Although backtracking the Longs' outward trail was tempting we elected to run the marked trail....but where on earth were the other FRB's? There had to be at least 7 or 8 hashers off trail in the Torbryan area.

 

We soon found sawdust and then more sawdust. We were definitely back on trail after nearly 20 minutes lost at sea. Were we still FRB's? Was everyone else off trail? 

 

At Fishacre Cross it was right and up past Fishacre Barton. We had got our eye in and we could see plenty of sawdust now. Perplexingly however, this was now in the middle of the road - perhaps to avoid any gully water washing them away.

 

We headed northwest and uphill towards Broadhempston. Occasionally, we could see a splash of flour in the hedge augmenting the sawdust. Hallelujah!. The sweetie stop and a Long/Short split. We arrived just as Coldtits was leaving.

 

"Have you seen the Longs'?" the Pig asked Fukarewe.

"Yes. Smellie, Beefy etc have already been through".

"What about Wet-Johnny?'

"No".

"Ahhhhh. You might not be seeing him or any more of the FRB's. They were last seen heading towards Torbryan!"

".......and haven't returned?" enquired the slightly incredulous Hare.

 

"Nope" I perceived that the Hare was making a mental note for the recipient of a Down-Down.

 

"I will stay here for 10 minutes just in case they get back on trail", announced Fukarewe. What a stalwart but, if I was a betting man, I would wager that we would be the last to arrive at the sweetie stop.

 

The Hare gave the bedraggled back markers some directions and we trotted down the bridal path at Hollycombe Green. We ignored the third and final Long/Short split across a field of corn and joined the highway at Slipperstone Cross. 

 

Fukarewe had told us to do a dogleg left and then right at this juncture. This would have taken us down to Bow Cross and then back into Broadhempston via Bow Mill Farm and Millclose Linhay.

 

We were soaked through and parts of Hollycombe Green had been decidedly dipsy. Hence we turned north and up past Lowmans Farm, encountering Fukarewe again at Stoop Cross. We were pretty much home.

 

What a trail (for those that were on it)? Made all the better because of the rain!

 

And now, with apologies to Charles Dickens and Alfred, Lord Tennyson, we bring to you:

 

A Tale of Two Twitties by Bird Sickens

 

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, as Bird Sickens wandered lonely as a cloud way way down in the boondocks of despair that was the blighted land of the Fukarwi tribe.

 

Nosing into the obviously misnamed Broadhempston, a mighty host of rain-jacketed hashers appeared. Having been cut off from the civilized world for five days, Bird Sickens was unaware of the forecast deluge, emerging from the silver chariot clad in shorts and singlet... whatamistakatomaka.

 

The NeverEnding Story circle spiel was tedious, and the Rain god on high began to weave his mischief as, finally, the host got underway beneath leaden skies.

 

All was uneventful until the two mile marker and the Tale of Two Twitties unfolded.

 

Captain Johnny's Twitties

 

There were some tasty virgins out there. A group of five or six smashed onto tarmac with narrowed eyes and snorting steam.

 

in the absence of a check, and not waiting for the scouts to the right to return, they veered left.

Johnny had laid a trail from these parts before and believed it must be left. The die was cast and there would be no turning back. 

 

A half a mile later, and still nary a mark to be seen, Johnny's Twitties were undeterred in their quest for everlasting foolishness. 

 

The last sighting had them closing fast with Denbury village green.

 

Singalong with me:

When Wet Johnny comes marching home again

Hurrah! Hurrah!
We'll give him a hearty welcome then
Hurrah! Hurrah!
The men will cheer and the boys will shout
The ladies they will all turn out
And we'll all feel gay

When Wet Johnny comes marching home.

 

No? Well please yourselves then - you usually do.

 

Colonel Man-Pig's Twitties

Meanwhile, the rearguard of the Colonel and Bird Sickens had followed Captain Johnny's ill-fated foray in the fond belief that marks had been seen.

 

With every furlong covered, a deeper suspicion formed in the mind of Colonel Man-Pig. The rain intensified and Bird sickened even more. He began to edge furtively back from whence he had come but was halted in his retreat as the Colonel bellowed: 'Come on, let's check out the Torbryan road!' sigh...

 

Half a league, half a league,

Half a league onward,

All in the valley of Death

Rode the Colonel and Bird Sickens.

Someone had blundered.

Theirs not to make reply,

Theirs not to reason why,

Theirs but to hash and die.

 

The Colonel had a set of wheels that just wouldn't quit. 

 

Leaving the bedraggled and soaking wet Bird at Giraffe junction, he coursed back in the other direction.

A brief eureka moment faded away as Man-Pig called the Bird to investigate a strange white mark in the road. 

 

A lesser hasher would have headed for the salvation of the pub but Colonel Man-Pig was on a quixotic mission and he was going to find the trail even if hell did bar the way.

 

And find it Don Quixote and his faithful companion Sancho Panza Shirley did.

 

Many twists and turns later, in heavy rain and non-existent light, the Colonel and Bird Sickens made the haven of the Monks Retreat. 

 

Shirley Valentine a Night to Remember.

 

Down-Downs

The Hare and co-Hare were keen to get the Down-Downs underway whilst most of the visiting locals were still in the pub. They also had some suggestions for those who were deserving of a Down-Down. Hence, push on with the Down-Downs. But first a question posed by the RA:

 

"What happened in 1977?"

 

Beefy immediately answered with, "The Queen's Silver Jubilee" - correct.

 

The pub made us enormously welcome. In fact, Fukarewe had enticed them to open especially for us. Splendid.

 

Accordingly the RA commenced proceedings by:

1. Thanking the pub for opening

2. Thanking the pub for providing the scoff

3. Thanking the pub for such pretty bar staff (the silver tongued lounge lizard strikes again)

4. Most importantly, thank the pub for the beer

Cheers all round.

 

What did we think of the trail? "Too dry". Obvious really.

 

On to the Down-Downs.

Satnav had had a Down-Down the previous week so she came up with the story of one of our visitors taking the initiative. He would avoid the rain by running with a brolly. Big mistaka. Pisswell had just given the RA a child's wellington boot resurfacing again from the previous week's hash at the Rugglestone.The RA then delighted in pouring a half pint of beer into the toddler's welly for him to down accompanied by Pork Torpedo reciting 'Why was he born so beautiful...'

 

Next up was Smellie who had the birthday cake hat. She commenced by asserting that a Hasher had almost caused a diplomatic incident before even clearing passport control in Poland the previous week. This was Man-Pig who was simply practicing the name of a local brand of beer. However, if mispronounced it means nipples or tits. The Pig had already received a down-down for this in Poland so he wasn't getting a second one. Tonight's story went back a fortnight to the Hash from the Parkers Arms. 

 

Those of you on Facebook will recall that the Hash's David Bailley (aka Beefy) posted a photo of Smellie with the caption, "Back end of a bus". Hence Beefy was awarded a Down-Down for a crime against womanhood with the rendition of the faulty Aladdin's lamp ditty.

 

Co-hare Prickly Bush had a story about a local virgin who had committed the most heinous of crimes....and on her first hash. This was awarded to local girl Polly for getting a lift back in a car. Pork Torpedo let rip with his particular rendition of "Love me tender"....oh dear!

 

Finally, the Hare got his revenge for waiting for ages for those that did not come. Fukarewe awarded the final Down-Down to Wet-Johnny for taking 50% of the Longs' off trail on a DIY route around Torbryan....with not a mark in sight. Wet-Johnny, you know better than that. Pork Torpedo came up with "The Grand Old Duke of York".

 

A big "Thank you" to the Hares for laying a pretty good trail in atrocious conditions and for going over and above the call of duty in arranging the pub on a night when it's usually closed. In fact we enjoyed it so much that next week's Hare threatened to change the venue!

 

Thankyou all for coming and the contribution made by the indigenous virgin Hashers. We hope that you enjoyed it. 

 

Please come again.

 

Next week

Next week's Hash is at The Star, Liverton with Hares Melon Picker and Soapy.

 

On-On to next week!