TALES OF THE UNEXPECTED & CONDOLENCES ON THE PASSING OF A GENTLEMAN

 TVH3 The Words for 4th September 2023  

Warren House Inn, Postbridge 

 

Run No. 1985

 

HARE: Pisswell

Who wuz there: Pisswell, Beefy, Man-Pig, Shitfaced, Forrest-Stump, Perry, Piltdown Man, Georgie Porgy, Smellie, Coldtits, Big End, Well Hopped, Broken Man, Fallen Woman, Strap-On, U-Bend, Ernie, Melon Picker, Soapy, Pork Torpedo, Horny & Beeflicker.

Circle

One week on from the bank holiday, the pack size was still smaller than usual at 21. 

Nevertheless, the epic trek into the middle of Dartmoor didn't perturb those 21 individuals. 

We were in no doubt that the Hare would not disappoint.

Shitfaced welcomed all but had little to announce so over to Man-Pig for an update on Winfield.

The original draft of the Words had been sent to Bluebird for publishing an hour before I learnt of Winfield's passing. Hence an update is both necessary and appropriate. Man-Pig had spoken with Mrs Winfield, Hovel Annie, on Friday. At that time, Winfield was in Dawlish hospital. As you might expect, he was not in a good way but he was strong in his mind and he grasped Annie's arm very firmly when she was visiting. Annie also mentioned that Pottsie was also in the same award and, also, with a broken neck. You really couldn't make it up. 

I have since heard that Pottsie is now back at home. Obviously, we all wish him a full and speedy recovery.

I appreciate that some of our newer members of the Hash might not have met Winfield. 

The first word that springs to mind whenever I think of Winfield is "gentleman". Winfield was always polite, helpful and led by example. He was a great long distance runner. 

For several years, he was the main organiser of the Torbay half marathon. And, in the same way in which Rambo encouraged Hashers to have a go at the Grizzly, Winfield did the same with the Torbay half marathon. As his Hash name implied, Winfield was connected with Woolworths. For many years he had been the manager for the Dawlish branch of Woolworths. Winfield, together with Pottsie and Teapot, are the elder statesmen of TVH3 and without them TVH3 would simply not exist. I think that I am correct in saying that Pottsie was one of our founder members.

For several years, Winfield was at the core of TVH3. His daughter Jo (Gobbler) and son-in-law (Sparky) were also regular attendees for many years. As a group, TVH3 extend our condolences to Hovel Annie, Gobbler, Sparky and the rest of Winfield's family. We also thank Winfield for his huge contribution to TVH3 over many, many years. 

 

We've had many a great trail from Winfield and have a lot to be grateful for. It is a privilege to say that I've spent many a run with Winfield and enjoyed every single one them.

On the subject of Teapot, Pisswell has seen him at Torbay Hospital and spoken with Desperate Housewife (daughter) regarding visiting etc. so expect an update soon.

Hare raiser, Smellie, is OK for Hares up to October so it was over to tonight's Hare - Pisswell.

Before the Hare had even opened her mouth, the pack couldn't but help noticie her gloves....furry, very furry. What had this got to do with the trail? What indeed? Read on. 

Dartmoor is in Pisswell's blood. She knows all tracks, the people and its folklore. Pisswell relayed a number of stories and legends about the moor. It commenced with the somewhat improbable story that the Warren House Inn is famous for its fire not having gone out for over 300 years. 

 

Next there was a story about a church tower in Widecombe that was split in two by the Devil who rode off on his horse only to throw his pack of cards across the moor. Continuing in this vein, hashers were strongly advised to collect any playing cards that they might encounter on trail lest a fate worse that death await them upon their return. 

 

Finally, the hairy hands. There is a story that the hairy hands of the moor will grab you from behind. This is most likely to occur when you are crossing a small bridge near the sweetie stop. Ooooo....errr!

Just before embarking onto the trail, Pisswell relayed two warnings.

A puma had escaped from a nearby private zoo (a true story apparently but not necessarily from this year!) and there was a part of the trail marked BB; BB for Bluebird as this part of the trail was a bit dodgy.

Well, nothing to worry about really; just the Devil, some ghoul with hairy hands and a puma. To cap it all, we would be returning to a pub that should, by rights, have burned down years ago. I wonder what its building's insurance premium is?

The Trail

Even before commencing the trail, the scenery in itself was already worth the journey. We could clearly see Grimspound in the distance, and the sun had just set behind the pub. What a beautiful evening with a warm, but fresh, breeze to refresh the soon to be sweating Hashers.

The Pig set off on the return trail and had to be called back whilst the rest of the pack headed off in a southeasterly direction. The landscape here had been mined (lead I think) way back when? 

We were running along the ridgeline of deep furrows when a BB (Bluebird) mark had the more adventurous dropping down into a complex of deep furrows. The most dangerous of the mine workings had been fenced off but it was still a bum-sliding descent for all of us to the bottom of the Bluebirdesque obstacle course. As promised, we came across a pack of playing cards and we all took one - that is ONE EACH Melonpicker!

Soon we were at the sweetie stop and the remains of an old building which must have been mining related. Why on earth would it be there otherwise? Over a tiny stone bridge we pattered and on to the Walkers'/Long & Shorts' split.

The Walkers' had a short 1.5 mile loop back to the car park whilst the Longs' and the Shorts' went eastwards and up. A pair of arrows had the pack turn north and up again to the top of Birch Tor and north again to the Long/Short split on the Two Moors Way.

FRB Beeflicker was long gone. I hadn't seen him since the car park. The balance of the Longs' comprised Beefy, Big End, Well Hopped, Ernie and Man-Pig. The Longs' proved to be a loop east along Two Moors Way before bearing southeast off the Two Moors Way and then southwest to Headland Warren Farm. Even before seeing the farm, we detected the whiff of a wood fire burning. The same smell that we had just caught on the outward trail and our first ascent to be atop Birch Tor. First?!

Yes. First. The trail took us back to the two arrows that we'd seen on the outward trail. 

All was clear - well clearish as it was beginning to get a bit dipsy. It looked as though the Longs' would be ascending Birch Tor - again - and then completing the trail by following the Shorts' trail west along the Two Moors Way. 

Just past the Tor, we caught up with Coldtits and Smellie. Beefy elected to shepherd the tail-enders home whilst Ernie, the Pig, Well Hopped and Big End closed in on the solitary torchlight at Bennett's Cross where Pisswell was....errrr, resting? It was now, ahem, quite dark. We were only 100 yards from the main road and, in the absence of a torch, the prospect of a 1km canter along the road was looking really rather inviting.

It was not to be as Pisswell directed us down a fairly broad track that took us back to the sweetie stop where we picked up the Walkers' return trail. Fortunately, despite the tales of hairy-handed ghouls and pumas, I was in the company of two good samaritans - Big End and Well Hopped. Even better, they both had torches. I snuck in between them for the final kilometre home.

Back in the car park, it was DARK. Definitely torches required after 8.30 now, even without any tree cover. Back at the pub, we worked out that the "missing" comprised Pisswell, Beefy, Smellie and Coldtits. From our vantage point at the Warren House, we could look down onto 

the trail. Sure enough, one, two and then three torchlights appeared meandering slowly long the trail. Pisswell and Coldtits with torches, Smellie with mobile phone light and Beefy, evidently benefitting from a diet of carrots.

Down-Downs

All safely back at the pub, it was time for the Down-Downs. Forrest Stump assumed RA'ing duties on the basis that he would not be RA'ing on his own trail next week. For some reason, the pub preferred us to do our down-downs outside. Equally perplexingly, we all had to be out of the pub by 9.30. In fairness, this is an isolated pub and makes all of its money from the tourist trade. I doubt if it gets much trade after 8pm.

There were only two non-hashers in the pub. As a matter of courtesy we explained what we were up to, and they elected to come outside and watch the spectacle of the Down-Downs. Whatamistakatomaka.

Outside, Ernie was desperate to give away two awards - the Hashshit shirt and the birthday hat. Forrest called for anyone who had a birthday that week. No one answered. Then, foolishly, our non-Hasher friend (Gerard from Dorset) mentioned that it was his 50th birthday. A half pint 

was thrust into his hand - but he was driving. So, he took one sip and handed the glass to his wife who was videoing all this on her phone. Even better, she is teetotal. This didn't prevent her from disposing of the remaining beer in pretty short order to the tune of all the rights notes

 - but not necessarily in the right order.

Back to Ernie - again.

"Do you recall Pisswell's instruction to take one card from the deck?"

"Yes", replied the Hash.

"How many have you got Melonpicker?"

"Err don't know. Twenty?"

Forrest poured the half pint into the child's wellington boot (unwashed since The Monks' Retreat) whilst songmeister, Pork Torpedo, kicked off with "He doesn't kiss the girls anymore....."

Third Down-Down went to the Hare for yet another excellent trail. No abductions by the Devil, and no-one eaten by a puma. This must be some measure of success. The songmeister offered up:

"The hairs of her dickiedido....." or should that be "Hares on her dickiedido"?

The final half, along with the Hash shirt, is returned to Ernie....and I'm blessed if I can remember why.

Another moorland extravaganza, replete with local folklore. Thank you Pisswell. A fantastically beautiful run.

Next week

Next week's Hash is at Tinkley Bottom (chez Forrest) with barbecue - bring your own food to BBQ and booze. Forrest will supply soup and rolls. Also, bring any unused fireworks from last year's cancelled bonfire night Hash and don't forget your TORCHES!

On-On to next week  

RIP Winfield.