The Grumpy Farmer (formerly Red Rock Brewery) Humber
Run No. 2078
HARES: Well Hopped & Roger the Dodger
Who
  wuz there: Well Hopped, Roger the Dodger, Pocket Rocket, Man-Pig,  
Forrest Stump, Bluebird, Pisswell, Beefy, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy,  
Smellie, Coldtits, Big End, Beeflicker, Wet-Johnny, Psycho, Warm Front, 
 Smash, Miss Mash, Slip-on-Me, Ablesemen, Polyfella, Wetfart, Archangel,
  Miss'ing (who wasn't), Rise'n'Shine & returnee, Bog Roll
Circle
A
  welcome return to the former Red Rock Brewery after an absence of over
 a  year. The Grumpy Farmer now operates as a wedding venue.
Prior
 to the  Circle, Rise'n'Shine, Ablesemen and Man-Pig were lucky to get a
 guided  tour of the wedding barn and reception areas, courtesy of the 
new owner.  Lovely exposed ancient oak beams atop a stone built barn. 
All beautiful  and very rustic.
But in no time at all it was time to Circle Up.
Pocket
  Rocket quietly welcomes all whilst the Hash firing squad surround him 
  and take aim. What was his misdemeanour? Drinking beer with .....a  
meal - all quite legal apparently so we all put down our weapons and  
carried on as normal.
The GM advises that we have two returnees in the form of Rise'n'Shine and Bog Roll - welcome back.
Smellie needs a hare for one slot in July. I think Beeflicker has volunteered.
Next
  Pork Torpedo steps up to give us an update on the fund-raising that he
  has being doing for the SANDS charity. Pork Torpedo explained that he 
 was one of a group of seven fundraisers that had committed to running 
at  least a mile-a-day throughout May; although all had well exceeded 
that  mileage.
The
 team comprised Pork Torpedo, Hornie, Hornies' daughter  (Jailbait) 
their son-in-law (Up-Periscope), Soapy, and two  others. Together they 
have raised in excess of £6,000 - a fantastic  effort and a round of 
applause all round.
However,
 and more importantly,  Pork Torpedo wanted to read out a text message 
from Hornie's daughter  thanking all those who had baked and donated to 
the charity.
It
 was a  heartfelt message than only a bereaved Mother could have penned.
 The key  message was that it is OK to talk about one's loss. Even 
though the  child might not have made it into our world, the child was 
very much  alive throughout the pregnancy and it is important to keep 
that memory  alive.
People
 frequently consider the issue of still-birth somewhat  taboo. Something
 not to be talked about. Something to be kept inside the  family. This 
just makes matters worse.
We
 have all lost someone we love,  a parent, a partner and, Heaven forbid,
 a child. Talking is good. It  keeps the memory of those we love, and 
have loved, alive. It  is cathartic. It is not taboo. To quote the old 
BT advert, "It is good  to talk" - especially amongst friends.
And so over to the Hare.
Well
 Hopped had diligently made some notes. There  would be the usual three 
trails, a Walkers', Shorts' and Longs'.  Marks would usually be on the 
right....except when they weren't. For  the Walkers, it was crucially 
important to check for an important mark  on your left. The distances 
were approximately 2, 4 and 6 miles. This  clear explanation was 
immediately followed by the Bird asking how far it  was!
Trail
The
 trail was pretty much the tried and tested route from this venue. But 
that certainly did not detract from it remaining a fantastic trail.
I
 think the operative word from the first sentence  is "pretty". The 
views over Teignmouth and out to sea from the drink  stop are beautiful.
 Ergo, the view over the Teign from Higher Radway  Farm must be one of 
the most picturesque views from any Hash trail in  Devon. And all this 
washed down by another brilliant drink stop guarded  by Norman and 
Norma. The sea shunting Bluebird just couldn't get enough  Captain 
Morgan at the drink stop....or now that he's gone all reggae,  should 
that be a brandy shandy and grenadine?
The
  trail headed up through woods towards the golf course and Little  
Haldon. The Longs then went on a loop around the edge of the golf course
  and lost the trail....two dots and........errr....nothing. 
Eventually,
  after backtracking to the previous check that was cunningly laid,  
almost in reverse, we picked up the trail along and then across 
Teignmouth golf  course. 
Just
 below  the clubhouse, we are back with the Shorts and heading along the
  postman's path to the drink stop which was being manned by Roger the  
Dodger. Excellent selection, presentation and hospitality along with  
terrific views. We loitered and nibbled for far too long. Almost  
inevitably it is was onto the public footpath at Higher Radway Farm.
Whilst
  Polyfella and the Pig carefully watched their steps along the steep  
descent, the light-footed Warmfront simply disappeared from view, her  
feet barely touching the ground.
At
 Teignview Road, there was the second  Long/Short split. The Shorts 
headed right and up Teignview Road towards  the cemetery. The Longs 
dropped down onto Forde Lane.
Unfortunately,
 what goes down  must, Shirley, go up. Almost at the end of Forder Lane,
 an arrow directs  us towards the steep climb up the locally nicknamed 
Happy Hill. Beefy  maintained that he was perfectly happy. Warmfront did
 not pass comment  on the extent to which she was happy - or not. 
Suffice to say that, at this  point, the usually warp factor progress of
 the light footed one had  ground to a slow walk.
A tad shy of 7 miles for the Longs. I'd say that we had earned ourselves a beer....or two?
And now over to the Bird is the Word:
CAPTAIN MORGAN INVIGORATES & MISS INN' APPEARS IN THE INN
Yes,  Oh Dearly Beloved, it's me again. The reports of my hash retirement  were somewhat premature. 
The
 whimsy in me fluttered and stirred on  seeing the ages old snap of 
Wiggsy and the Beetlejuice trouser-attired  Bird, so you have Beefy to 
blame for my appearance at the Red Rock Baby  this early June evening.
Weary
  you further, I shall not and cut to the chase without further ado  
though I was deeply troubled by my inability to recall the hare giving  
out distances and my asking for same but a few moments later. Never  
mind, now on to the action.. slowmo though it proved to be.
Few
  will recall that olden day cars needed the engine to be run for 
several  minutes before setting off to necessitate fuel mixing and 
lubrication.  The parallel with ancient hashers is similar. The shock of
 starting to  run without a warm-up was disconcerting to say the least.
That
  first hill doesn't get easier and by the first check at half a mile I 
 could hear the warning voice: 'Come in number thirty three, your time 
is  up..' sigh.
I
  tarried with Big End, fervently hoping it wasn't up the rocky hell 
path  to the golf course, but indeed it was. The two mile walkers looked
 to  be the wisest choice as I grimly climbed and staggered upwards.
Up  the gloomy gorge we struggled, valley of the shade of death
No time to  halt gladly at the summit or indeed to catch our breath
The once gay caravan of hashers faltered and shredded apart, some never to be seen again.
My
  company for the evening's test was young Flowery who also was lacking 
 in fitness. We tagged onto Big End and Wet Johnny as we traversed the  
golf course. At the exit of the golf course we ground to a halt. Big End
  was surveying the marks with a frown. 'They can't be right' and with  
that, he erased a cross and we continued.
Huge  was the effort expended as the drinks stop hove into view.
As a rule, I seldom  tarry long at such contrivances, but this evening I was grateful for a  pause.
And
  there it was - a bottle of Captain Morgan rum!  Oh lordy and smacka my
  thigh. I recall having a few shots and then launching into Bury My 
Body  and Calypso Rum and Grenadine but it's all a bit hazy.
Leaving
  Captain Morgan, I spotted a potential souvenir to take away. Over the 
 years I have 'recovered' a few unlikely trail souvenirs: A false leg 
(on  this very trail) a lady mannequin and an inflatable crocodile to 
name  but three.
However,
 there was a  problem with this contender - what I thought was a plastic
 gnome turned  out to be a weighty ceramic model. As I toyed with the 
idea of  transporting it back to the bar, Big End shouted: 'Oi, you 
can't nick  that!' I reluctantly abandoned the enterprise as Flowery 
reminded me of  the Basil Fawlty sketch of Basil holding a gnome which 
he was going to  insert into the cowboy builder O'Reilly. No? Well...
Now,
  where was I? Ah yes, we had already travelled three miles by the  
watering hole and both Flowery and I were a tad concerned about how far 
 there was to go. The projected four for the short seemed unlikely and 
if  that were the case, the long might be over six as well.
The
  hares had done well as the hash had been brought together and we had  
company up to the L/S split.  Flowery and I decided that the short was  
the wisest option and we were delighted to squeeze a five miler out of a
 short trail -  and survive to relate the tale.
A
  quarter of a mile from the sanctuary of the bar, a large 4 X 4 drew  
alongside. A short conversation with Bin Laden who regularly drops by  
the Humber farm enterprise for an ale or two, though Flowery failed to  
recognise him. Perhaps it wasn't him- after those invigorating jolts of 
 Captain Morgan.
Back
  at the ranch-house, the Jail was an okay £4.50 agogo and the company  
was excellent. Wetfart marked my card with an Elvis song I hadn't heard -
 Long Black Limousine - well That's All Right. 
Quite
 a surprise was the appearance inside by Miss Inn' -  named as such for 
the reason she only does the run and fails to attend  the pub. A DD 
Shirley? Nope, apparently no-one had spotted the rarity.
A most enjoyable evening - thank you Roger and Well Hopped. And not forgetting Captain Morgan!
Down-Downs
The Pig is RA
Ablesemen for hoarding "a nice pair" of Awards, including the missing Hashshit shirt (recently returned from Porton Down)
The Hares for an excellent trail and sweetie stop
Coldtits for telephone usage on trail
As Beefy remarked, the 'inevitable' DD to Psycho for making a pit stop en route
Pork Torpedo for kicking over his own drink  and finally,
Pork Torpedo and Horny for their excellent fundraising in support of SANDS
A final Hash song only for the co-owner of the Grumpy farmer who had missed all the down-downs, "Hold it your hand Mrs Murphy"!
Next week
Next week's Hash is from the Artichoke at Christow (a long time since we were last there). Our Hare is Forrest-Stump.
On-On to next week. MP & the Bird.
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