Anyway, the Grand Parade of Lifeless Packaging (who was there(!)) is as follows:
Manpig,
Bluebird, Ernie, Pisswell, Big End, Well Hopped, Wet Johnny, Coldtits,
Pollyfella, Georgie P'Orgy, Piltdown Man, Wet Fart, Melon Picker,
Soapy, Bee Flicker, Smash, Miss Mash, Pocket Rocket, Red Rum, Beefy
and, returnee, Flowery Twats. Carpet Crawlers (pub only) were
Shitfaced, initially but disappeared, Bobbiball and Teapot.
At
the Circle, Soapy reminded us that next week is a cake auction, in aid
of SANDS charity so, bring cake and/ or cash to buy cake please.
Monday
was one of Bluebird's birthdays so Manpig was Hare. Co- Hare Poacher's
absence was owing to vehicle breakdown. Manpig explained that his
Trail graced the edge of the Haldon Trail and had helped us distinguish
his by dint of large, friendly, upper case letter "T"s. After all, we
don't want to Trespass!
The
starting gun is (figuratively) fired. So, as happy as fish and
gorgeous as geese, twenty one went on Trail along the St. Marychurch
Road towards St. Marychurch and Babbacombe (formerly two distinct
villages).
We
found ourselves in Cary Park, and ran through the park and along Cary
Avenue whence we were called back by the Hare. Back we went to the
missed split where the birthday Bird vouchsafed that the Trail is the
reverse of last year's. "I care not!" quoth I, "for I recall little of
last week's let alone last year's!"
The Watcher in Skies could give evidence if needed.
We
headed for the Downs and on to the Cliff Railway. Down the adjacent
steps we ran. Beefy ran past the right turn, under the rails, followed
by Pollyfella and Bee Flicker but then we ran back to it after hearing
"On" called.
The
pack followed a path down to the beach. Can-utility and the
Coastliners we were as we headed for Babbacombe beach, past the
waterfall (his madrigal) and inshore sea (his symphony) and saw no
Silent Sorrow in Empty Boats, only Horizons.
We bade "farewell", to Bluebird, at the Cary Arms, where he followed the walkers. The rest of us headed for Anstey's cove.
Up
we climbed, following the Trail across Wall's Hill where Big End
remarked on the Orchid (a flower?) population. Then down we dropped and
were Riding the Scree in a Ravine when suddenly, we perceived what
appeared to be a Sweetie Stop in the car park. And so it was, for Haldon
Hash, anyway.
A
pair of tables, on squeaky feet, stood at the back of an estate car
with drinks and treats upon them and gaily festooned with lights. Where
there is food there are wild things floating about, in the form of
gulls so, the cakes were stored, temporarily, on the back seat of the
car. And gulled by Pisswell's rhetoric, one of the S/S keepers handed
over a crisp. An Aisle of Plenty awaited H4, for sure.
Meanwhile,
TV front runners were searching everywhere for the Trail. Soapy was
trying to show the way just as a marching column of H4 emerged from a
woodland path which, the Hare confirmed now also, was On.
Sure
enough, a series of "T"s showed us the way. So, through Asheldon
Copse we ran, on to Babbacombe Road. Bee Flicker and I ran on until we
found other marks. Pollyfella joined us and, between us, we worked out
that we were seeing marks that bore little resemblance to those of the
'Pig. Luckily, Pollyfella remembered, from last year, where we should
be.
Liquid Len and his smashed bottle men ran back and found themselves back On Trail.
Up
through a narrow wooded area we were led, emerging at the junction of
Quinta Road and Windsor Road, which we crossed to enter Warberry Copse.
We rejoined Windsor Road which took us, more or less, straight back
On Home via Spires secondary school and Plainmoor football ground.
At
around five and a half miles covered, over some mixed and testing
terrain, I feel we had our money's worth. And, we do like to be beside
the seaside.
We'll done Manpig, you produced the goods again.
At
the On Down, Supper's Ready for £3 in the pot, if we can find a pot.
Pisswell was on duty as RA and awarded Supersonic Scientist, Manpig,
a Down-down for his Trail.
Coldtits
took water for straying onto the H4 Trail (don't tell: they'll charge
her a quid!). Ernie did his best to give a Down-down to the RA with
all sorts of accusations (which I don't recall now) but, Pisswell
turned it into a returnee award. Wonderful potion for Flowery Twats and
water for Teapot.
At
the RA's request, Manpig (activating his prayer capsule) paid tribute
to Bluebird, our Guaranteed Eternal Sanctuary Man, for reaching another
Birthday and another Down-down.
Soapy
was awarded the jester's hat for having her cleverness ignored.
After The Ordeal of banter, laughter, (ahem) singing and other general
rowdiness (which confused and amused some regulars), the Hash dispersed
gradually.
Bluebird
did as he promised: he sang. It was a Cinema Show of a performance and
everyone was impressed, truly. Many Happy Returns of the Day,
Bluebird. We miss you at the Hash and we hope to see you more often.
As you know, there is always a space with your name on it! On on.
Somehow,
I volunteered to write the Words: More Fool Me. It was a slow process
but, I thought: Get 'Em Out By Friday, it'll be all right.
On on, Beefy.
No comments:
Post a Comment