TVH3 The Words for 4th February 2024 PART ONE

The Old Commercial, Bishopsteignton

Run No. 2010

 

PART ONE

 

HARES: Man-Pig and, er... Bluebird

 

Who wuz there: Bluebird, Man-Pig, Zoot, Hotlips, Cheerio Beerio, Threesum, Only Here for the Beer, Forest-Stump, Perry, Sam (virgin), Smellie, Warmfront, Psycho, Beefy, Pisswell, Beeflicker, Squeaky Bum, Well Hopped, Big End, Ned, Roger the Dodger, Melonpicker, Pollyfella, Wet-Johnny, Slip-on-Me, Manopause, Strap-On, Ernie, Bobbiball, Coldtits and a return of our Polish contingent, Wigwam & Mrs Sheen.

 

Circle

The Bird had pre-warned the Hash that parking was limited in the Old Commercial's car park. Nevertheless, this didn't deter several Hashers from entering the Tardis competition - "How many cars can you get in a small car park?". Quite a lot as it turned out, if you allow for the inevitable musical chairs associated therewith.

 

There was no Wetfart so Forrest Stump updated us on Teapot. He has been moved to Templar ward in Newton Abbot hospital and appears to be improving. Good news. Hopefully, parking will be a little easier at Newton Abbot hospital.

 

Forrest was a week adrift for the "Bring a friend Hash". He had brought along his son-in-law, Sam. The virgin was given a liberal sprinkling of flour and, with no GM in attendance, it was over to the Hares.

The trail had been laid in two sections and at different times during the day. The Bird had squawked his way around the Shorts' and the Pig had snorted his way around the Longs'. 

 

The fly in the ointment was that the Pig hadn't seen any Long/Short split and precious little in the way of marks on what, he was sure, would have been the trail. There was good reason for this as I will explain later.

 

The Bird imparted that the Walkers' trail was exactly one English imperial mile long and the Shorts' would be three and a half miles. There was one Long/Short split (that appeared to require marking/remarking) and the Longs' would be about five miles.

 

And now the novel bit. Some of the trail was marked in chalk lozenges on tarmac - but most of the trail was laid in invisible ink!

 

The Pig kept the pack chatting for a few moments whilst the Bird flew up the road to put a few marks in and to remark the single Long/Short split.

 

Trail

I hate being Hare and writing the Words. It is like marking your own homework. Let's just say that the trail was a generous 3/10... "Could do better" which was a frequent comment on my end of term reports at school. Some things never change it seems.

 

The weather had been appalling earlier in the day. Strong winds and perpetual rain. The original plan, if there ever had been a plan, was for the Hares to meet at 1pm to set the trail. 

 

On the day, the forecast was for the worst of the weather to come in the afternoon. Hence the Bird took it upon himself to lay the Shorts' in the morning. At 11.39am the Pig gets a call from the Bird. "It's all laid Man-Pig - apart from the Longs. All you need to do is turn up at 7, run ahead, and lay the Longs' loop". 

 

This sounded good, in theory.

 

However, the Pig thought that this was cutting it fine. Hence, in true Titus Oates' fashion, the Pig braved the elements to lay the Longs' loop at the height of the storm - around 3.30. 

 

Regrettably, and unlike Titus Oates, the Pig made it back. But he had seen precious few marks whilst he'd been out. This he imparted to the Bird in the Circle.

 

This ruffled some feathers and led to the Bird flying off early to lay a couple of marks. Accordingly, the early part of the trail was, effectively, a live lay. Only one mark was found on the way up to the Long/Short split at Ashwell Cross. 

 

The solitary mark was just inside the cemetery gate. Wet-Johnny went to check it out. It was a false trail and he came back saying, "I never found a cross". Impossible, you were in a graveyard!

 

At Ashwell Cross, the Bird was proud to declare that his chalk "S" had not been washed away after all. Indeed, it was still there, and intact, but nevertheless not particularly clear against the torchlight being reflected off the wet tarmac.

 

Other Hashers were looking for a mark for the Long. The Pig assured everyone that such a mark did exist. In fact it was currently floodlit! The Topiary Twins had been FRB'ing but still couldn't find a mark. 

 

It is not a very big junction, and they didn't have a large area to investigate. The Hare suggested that Warmfront might want to have a look in front of a Fiat that was parked up at the crossroads. The Fiat had an occupant, the engine was running and its lights were on. 

 

I know that the Fiat 500 is a bit of a bubble shape wise. I suppose that it is possible, from a long, long way away that you might not be able to distinguish the front from the back. However, at a distance of 3 feet the difference between the front and back seemed pretty obvious. This did not prevent Warmfront from getting up close and personal with the rear of the car. She inspected the lights....they were red. She had a look at the exhaust and finally got very close to have a look at the boot release. These were all clues from which most people would have concluded that they were viewing the back of the car. Eventually, and with a little encouragement from the Hare, Warmfront ventured to the front of the car. "Oh. there it is!", she exclaimed.

 

The Longs sallied forth towards the Old Red Rock Brewery. These comprised: Beeflicker, Forrest-Stump with son-in-law virgin Sam, Warmfront, Psycho, Big End, Well Hopped, Beefy, Pisswell, Pollyfella, Strap-On, Ernie and the Pig sweeping.

 

Now some simple arithmetic means that the balance of 16 must have been on the 1 mile Walkers' trail. I can only conclude that they were all hungry.

 

Just as the Walkers would have been sitting down to tuck into their pies in a nice snug old boozer, the Longs were heading for the former brewery and Manopause was Shirley heading for disaster....on his lonesome.

 

Before the brewery, there was a check. Psycho checked out the public footpath that runs across a field but was soon called back as there was a call of "On-On" from an FRB - most probably Beeflicker. 

 

The trail now continued past the former brewery and then bore right into Humber at the back entrance to Lindridge Park. Another check at the end of Three Trees Lane didn't fool anyone. The check at the end of Three trees lane had been kicked out right. At the next junction marks! Three in a row to our left. I think this made 5 in total on the trail so far. We had a good nosey into the turn off onto the postman's path but nothing. 

 

Sure enough, we were destined to remain on tarmac for the rest of the trail. Another junction and another single blob of flour. We took a right, past the entrance to Teignmouth Golf Club, and all the way down Old Wall's Hill. 

 

There was a complete absence of marks, probably due to water washing all across the road. Towards the bottom of Old Wall's Hill, Beefy checked out a footpath to the left.....nothing. The Hare checked dead ahead. Again, nothing but the Pig marked it anyway. 

 

Old Walls Hill runs into Radway Street and then Manor Road. Still no marks. The Hare and Strap-On decided to cheat and use Strava on our phones to find out where we were in relation to the pub. But Beefy said, "No. Where's the fun" (good lad, Beefy, BB). With that, the Pig put down an arrow heading up Manor Road. 

 

When Manor Road turned into Teignview Road the Hare knew where he was. The "On-Home" was marked at the top of Berry Hill and we were, indeed, home.

 

NB in a bid to do our bit to save the planet the hares had ensured that no excess of flour was expended on this trail.

 

Down-Downs

The last time TVH3 were in this pub was well over 20 years ago. Back then it was called the Bishop John de Grandisson. What a pleasant change to come into a nice, quaint and unpretentious old boozer with an open fire. Absolutely lovely. 

 

James and his partner Darren opened especially for us and made us very welcome. That was until Bluebird got hold of the radio microphone. Only the intervention of the Boston strangler curtailed his sea shantying (sigh).

 

Forrest-Stump, complete with coat hanger stuffed into his back jacket, assumed RA'ing and thanked the pub for opening and, mistakenly, for the beer as Bluebird had thought it imprudent to ask when initial negotiations had been taking place..

 

Most unusually, the RA kicked off proceedings by presenting the Bird with a DD, despite nary a mark to be seen! 

 

Forrest had the Hash turd hat. Now, last week it was revealed that it was a bit whiffy. In fact, it smelt as though someone had wee'd on it - or in it. It could have been worse I suppose. Someone could have matched the smell to the hat. 

 

Anyway, Forrest had allegedly washed the damn thing. Now it only smelt of dead mouse - which may still have been in situ. This he gave back to Roger the Dodger and I have no idea why.

 

Next up was Bluebird who had requested a half of ale for a special naming award. A story of derring do and that rarest of things, trust in the mad as a hatter, Bird.. Namely, only one brave Hasher foolish enough to follow the unmarked trail that the Bird purported to be the Shorts' trail. A note for Manopause the Magnifico - see Part 2 of the words.

 

There was definitely a note for the "Dubious ?????" but I am blessed if I can remember who or what it was for. (Perhaps Psycho for not wanting to reveal her hash name to Teapot in ward?)

 

Finally, Man-Pig had the Hashshit shirt from the previous week. The Pig had three stories to regale.

The first actually related to Saturday's Devon A2B hash. This involved one of the Pig's very best friends giving him a present that he really didn't want. 

 

Now this Hasher is a kind and generous man. He visits poorly Hashers in hospital. he brings virgins to the hash and on Saturday he volunteered to do the Words for the Devon A2B....or did he? At Saturday's A2B Circle their GM, That's Crap, asked for a volunteer to do The Words. Forrest shot up his hand.

"I'll volunteer....." he said. This was followed by a slight pause which ended with the name ".....Man-Pig". Just the sort of friend that you want to have in your life.

 

The next candidate was Forrest's son-in-law. He's turned up at the Hash as a virgin. he's been married to Mucking Fuddle for three years....isn't it about time? I think Forrest needs to have a word with him.

Our final contended for the Hashshit shirt was Warmfront. this was for her abject difficulty in being unable to tell the difference between the front and the back of a car. I hope that she wasn't the driver this evening.

 

The Pig put it to the floor to vote on. It was unanimous. Man-Pig's bestie, Forrest, was the outright winner. "Hold it in your hand Mrs Murphy".

 

We bade our farewells to each other and to James and Darren at the pub. A really nice old pub. I am sure we'll be back.

 

Next week

Next week's Hash is from Cockhaven Manor, again in Bishopsteignton. The Hares are Roger the Dodger and Well Hopped, no doubt assisted by Big End - and some flour next week might come in useful.

 

On-On to next week, MP.