TWO HEROES, A WEREWOLF & A YETI

Run #1766 Monday 29th October: Seven Stars at Kennford. Hares Piltdown & Georgy P Orgy

The Seven Stars at Kennford - Kennford? That's a tad far out, oh Grandest One and it has turned chilly to boot Bertie..

However, Trevor, Winfield messaged that he wasn't exactly on 'cruise' control so I was forced to risk it and go as a werewolf. Soapy would back me up, Shirley, so I wouldn't look a complete idiot...

I dimly recall clogged up Kennford, so I arrived a day early to secure a chariot space. HA! There was Beefy and he was also going to risk it on his RocknRolla ankle. 69 and Avatar persuaded me to go inside the Seven Stars to keep warm but the locals looked at me as though I was an Idiot ... sigh.

The chariots arrived and the great host scattered in search of elusive spaces. White van men U Bend and Piddler briefly gazed at the congested carnage outside the pub and drove on.

Thirty two hashers and an assortment of hounds eventually made the circle outside the Seven Stars and only the Grand Master backed me up with that Tommy Cooper black wig - just like that!

The GM welcomed us with the glad tidings that, mercifully, there was no question this week and then introduced a virgin, Sherelle, for the pack's perusal. Another Parkee and at this rate they'll need a minibus. Welcome indeed, the more the merrier.

Now to the important part of every circle banter - the trail details which this week were a little different Doris. The short was 2.83 miles, the long 5.63 and there was also a 'wimp out' trail from the long of 4.7 miles. The pack would stay together for two thirds of a mile and then the longs and shorts would say goodbye forever Forest AND NO SS! I liked it, I liked it!

An alien terrain (well, for me anyway) greeted us as we climbed out of Kennford and headed for open country. Past the point of no return at the only L/S split and the warriors sorted themselves out. Wide Receiver led our select gathering, closely tracked by Manopause and Manpig. Breathing through the werewolf mask was not recommended and I had to remove it to stay in the action (yes, you were right Wide). An unwelcome feature of the hill and dale trail was the four step stile system and Manpig and I lost ground at each one as the youthful elements coursed onwards, ever onwards.

The first adventure occurred just before the great wimp out point. Wide's headtorch could be seen below us but Manpig, Manopause and I were trapped in a field above and a great deal of shouting broke out (from guess who?). Manpig and Manopause surrendered and backtracked to the previous check to be on trail again but, a nameless one chose another option. Finding a gap in the hedge and jumping a water filled ditch, the cry of triumph echoed across the valley. Half a mile away, Beefy heard and sighed in resignation. And there was Piltdown, shining his headtorch like a beacon, guiding us to glory.

Meanwhile, some way back and cautiously testing the ankle, Beefy had let the longs steal a march and he found himself detached from the action. Last of the longs on trail and with the ankle not coping well with field and furrow, Beefy would be out there for some time - more on his travails later.

The pattern of the longs had now been set. Wide was well away and would solo to the finish. Manopause, Manpig and BB would duke it out, on and off while Piddler and the Yeti* would drift back and forth, always maintaining contact.

We learnt much later (in the pub) that Archangel, arriving late, had also set out onto the long trail making eight takers or a quarter of the hash having a go-go dance.

The Band of Brothers plus a relentlessly fluorescing Yeti pressed on, crossing the M5, A30 and A38, taking in many wondrous vistas and unknown territory along the way. Piddler entertained with his offering of 'She was only the Abominable Snowman's daughter, Yet I loved her...' No?

Piddler's tech showed that we covered 6.3 miles in all so had only gone off trail by about 700 metres and time flew as we had such fun out there.

The Seven Stars, rarely visited by TVH was welcoming and the Seven Stars session ale 3.7 abv (£3.50 a pint) hit the spot every time, didn't it Only Here, or were you on the Jail? The house pizza challenge defeated all comers - a half pizza at £8.50 a throw was a magnificent sight. Shitfaced managed a quarter of a quarter: 'It's the thickness of the pizza dough that defeats you.' I begged a portion off Wide and it was a winner. Doggy bags galore were the order of the evening.

DDs were awarded by Wide

A case of mistaken identity as Roxanne was selected as the miscreant who had admitted following BB on trail - corrected to Manopause and trust me, that lad can really moto moto.

A saga by Manpig who teased and prevaricated, apparently nominating SM Ellie for the dazzling Yeti jacket and then yon virgin, Sherelle for wearing a clean pair of shoes before, finally dearly beloved, giving the ruddy hat to Slip on Me for her comment to Only Here 'You mustn't worry, Archangel is far more experienced than you!'

A birthday DD for I-Poo'd followed plus a cake offering from T Humper.

Most reluctantly (still forlornly awaiting Archangel and Beefy to return) Slip on Me awarded the Hashit shirt to Only Here for the Beer for being only here for the beer.

POSTSCRIPT

Yes, they eventually returned to a welcome fit for heroes. Beefy after going the Wang Wei** - made the Matford roundabout before retracing his footsteps and recording just short of eight miles. Archangel recovered from some dodgy kicked out checks to get round in his own time.

The trail was, in my opinion, a great one and very well thought out by the hares. It took in all terrains, was hilly and demanding just as I like them and I am so glad I didn't miss it. And do you know what? I would have actually paid for the privilege of running that trail! Thanks GM and Georgy.

*Aka SM Ellie, that jacket really dazzled!

**Hainan Island incident April 1, 2001

ON ON to next week and Forest Stump's Firework Extravaganza from Tinkley Bottom, Trusham.

FUKARWI FIVE'S FAMOUS FAILURE

Run #1765 Monday 22nd October: Teignmouth Rugby Club. Hare Wide Receiver

Was it just a dream? Oh Shirley lightning can't have struck twice in as many Mondays! After last week's 'Gone With the Long' trail at Stoke Gabriel, Part 2 was about to run its course down in the urban jungle of western Teignmouth. There are a few of you out there wondering how I'm going to (get out of this tight spot) relate this tale - well, it isn't going to be easy Eric.

A solitary car (the hare) was parked in the main car park when I arrived, but then the few became many as TVH arrived in some numbers. A more than respectable forty two was the final roll call, including Kermit + bike: 'I just wanted to see what was going on.'

It was tricky seeing who was there in the darkness but I discerned Teignmouth locals Coldtits and Polyfella, the alluring (to a number of male hashers I've heard tell) SM Ellie, Fallen Woman (minus Broken Man?), Ipplepenners Manopause and Roxanne, the Park mob, Rambo & Doris (who had walked down the hill) and the late arriving Only Here for the Beer/Shitfaced chariot, both occupants looking blank faced when asked about the mystery back up incident last week.

Forest advertised his upcoming Firework Night extravaganza and requested a volunteer to lay the trail, oh where are you Poacher when we need you? Satnav declared that the Christmas Draw tickets were now available and then Wide gave his spiel and off we went, with five of us blissfully unaware what was about to befall us Bertie..

The usual milling about outside the rugby club took place as the hare tried and succeeded in deceiving the pack. A rogue car driver with no lights came bearing down onto hashers trying to cross the road and Wigwam had a word with the oblivious driver and the lights were safely turned on.

The first L/S split was discovered at the bottom of Mill Lane and the longs commenced the steep climb led by local lad Polyfella with Grinder following. The first sign of something not quite right occurred when Grinder appeared running back down the hill. A tempting alternative route was the turn right into Fourth Avenue and a group of FRBs galloped - straight into the trap! With my new found fitness, I wasn't going to let Manpig and Fukarwi get too far in front, so I followed. A hundred yards on and the trail went cold, no dots, no crosses, no back checks. There we were, the five of us, Fukarwi, Manpig, Grinder, Roxanne and of course yours truly.

By the time we had retraced our footsteps back to the check, we found the road bereft of hashers, including the hare. Manpig was promoted leader of our tiny battalion and set about organising the Hunt for Red October*.

A magic moment in that hunt was the discovery of the Man Cave up a blind alley close by. It was a converted garage with open doors and a lit brazier cooking the barbie outside. We paused and gazed longingly at the happy group inside the gaily lit 'cave'. 'They've even got a woman!' cried one of our group, who, I now forget. It was only the Call of Duty that took us away to resume our quest.

Manpig is nothing but meticulous and he ordered a second check of all routes which finally yielded a glimmer of hope to the forlorn five. The route was past Teignmouth Hospital and eventually brought us back onto the main Bishopsteignton highway. Grinder, being fleet of foot, was sent on as scout but it was Manpig again who found the trail up a dark path and then the fun really began.

It was all too easy, a succession of kicked out checks in a straight line for about a quarter of a mile and then - wait for it - a cross. Back we went, carefully re-checking the kicked out checks but with the same result, all had two marks and then nothing. Eventually, we dropped down into Broadmeadow Ind. Estate, past the Sports Centre and back onto the main road. Fukarwi and I had a suspicion that Wide may have taken them over Shaldon Bridge and we congregated there to find Doris about to cross over to Shaldon for a swift one at the London Inn. Shirley she knew something? But alas, no and there our quest came to an inglorious end, dearly beloved and the Lost Boys tape reveals the following desperate quotes: 'I think we've missed something in the woods!' (Fukarwi). 'This is a first, even for us, we never ****ing found it!' (BB). 'How could we have gone so wrong so long?' (BB again).

On checking the map, I discovered that we had never got beyond 500 metres from the bar at any point in our run. Roxanne and Grinder had got into bad company indeed, accompanying the reigning Hash Pillock, a nine times Hash Pillock and a several time Hash runner up Pillock. Bad luck lads.

Back in the rugby club bar, surprise surprise, we found, as anticipated, the entire hash ensconced and swigging the Morland's Bitter 4.0 ABV (at £3 a pint a real hash pleaser) and all relating that they had no trouble finding the trail.

The management had very kindly put on that hash staple of bangers and chips (with 2 squid thrown in the kitty) for us although the U Boat commander would not have been happy with the chips Charles but never mind, all sins were forgiven, courtesy of the Morland's Bitter.

We missed out on the babbling brook, the sweetie stop and farmers and cows and bare breasted beauties (apparently) but we saw the Man Cave didn't we lads!

DDs

Manpig our usual RA politely gave way to Wide for the DDs:

Archangel (Pillock shirt) to Slip on Me for referring to Only Here for the Beer and Shitfaced as 'boys' which apparently they no longer are.

Wigwam (sans Horsey Horseface Hat) to Manpig for missing his DD last week.

Unknown awarder to Piddler for something about his 'girlfriend' on the trail (SM Ellie).

Wide Receiver (given subs. Checkin' Chicken Hat by double awardee Archangel) to Grinder who was colour co-ordinated orange with his oppo Deep Throat.

POSTSCRIPT

Fukarwi's Lost Boys quote of: 'It's been a great laugh though..' sums it up completely. We had a fantastic time at Stoke Gabriel and again tonight. Wide Receiver, as ever, was a true gent and remains my hash hero. Thank you.

*No? well please yourselves then.

ON ON to next week and the Seven Stars at Kennford ( EX6 7TR ) with Piltdown Man & Georgy P.Orgy.

GONE WITH THE LONG*

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OLLIE'S MAGIC MONKEY

Monday 8th October #1763 from Labrador Bay CP, OD Church House Inn at Stokeinteignhead. Hare Ollie

We gathered in the Labrador Bay CP on a dry, windless, autumnal evening full of promise. Ollie had decided to go coast side for his Harvest Festival Auction hash trail before decanting us down Deane Road to the Church House Inn for the auction fun.

Thirty five, including Polyfella and AH3 Avatar, made the dark circle to listen to GM Piltdown, precariously balanced on the bank betwixt the car park and the Teignmouth Road.

Ollie was summoned and outlined two L/S splits and no RGs as time was of the essence. His stratagem was 'keep it simple, keep it safe' but the irresolute and infirm would know all about the infamous coast path trestles, sooner rather than later..

The route was simplicity itself - even an idiot couldn't go wrong, Shirley. The longs would prescribe a clockwise, rectangular route from Labrador to Maidencombe low side and return via the high route to enjoy the splendid views out over Babbacombe and Lyme bay. The shorts would go the same route until turning off right into Blackberry Lane, just above the Mackerel Cove VP.

Ollie, gent that he is, had kindly marked my card beforehand and in truth, I was unable to run, so I stuck to my two words of undeniable wisdom pertaining to navigation of this coastal strip: Stay high (you fools).

The hash had quickly settled into known groups of ability and I felt sorry for the Teapot group of Wetfart, Able and Twin Buffers who descended into the lower reaches of the RSPB Reserve, heading for the first of the trestled climbs - and possibly the most demanding. Known as the 'alpine curves', it was an ascent so severe that it had to take in several hairpin turns to gain the summit.

A lifeline and a way out was offered. Some maniac with a shunting horn was heard (and seen courtesy of his headlight) high up above the trekking file. 'Do you see the light? DO YOU SEE THE LIGHT?' * Well, Teapot's little group did and wisely scuttled for the exit. Others did not and upon breasting the alpine curves, the vanguard of the shorts - Squashed Balls and #69 saw a steep trestled descent unfold. 'I really don't want to go down there.' muttered Squashed Balls forlornly and there miraculously was James Brown, complete with shining light to give solace to the clearly suffering duo.

Atop Labrador summit, the toiling trail of lights, barely moving, was a fine sight to behold, though the super heroes of the long had already descended to Maidencombe led by Deep Throat and Poacher, locked in mortal combat. Grinder was a little way behind but Beefy had somehow managed to get into an argument with some brambles and had lost contact. Surprisingly, Manopause had got the better of his mentor Wet Johnny and was having a fine time out there under the stars. WJ lamented later in the pub 'The legs had gone, gone I say!'

Finally, after our sightseeing tour, we arrived back at the scenic car park to find a 'semi' long Wigwam already changing. 'I dun the first long guv, honest!' Twin Buffers and the 'Saw the Light' crew had already made it and were first down the hill to the bar.

The Church House had Otter, Jail and Doom Bar on tap and plates of gratis chips were promised for the TVH gannets - many thanks Simon.

The DDs were got out of the way before the main event:
Deep Throat (substitute Checkin' Chicken hat) to Poacher for 'Forgetting to charge his head torch.'
Manpig (Hashit Pillock shirt) to Shitfaced for filming T Humper's epic karaoke turn on the TVH away day Brewery Tour.**
A joint DD for Squashed Balls and Twin Buffers celebrating their 8th anniversary meeting at this event.

The auctioneer was, as ever, Teapot and the bidding was frenetic and keenly fought. Poacher refused to be outbid on many a produce lot prompting the classic comment from Only Here: 'The caullies must be selling well!' However, Poacher finally relented on the last lot, a sought after copy of Soapy's Havoc book - allowing Melissa (chair of St Marychurch Traders) to take the prize.
Totting up the figures, the amount raised for Rowcroft was a new auction record of £505 - Ollie's Magic Monkey indeed!

POSTSCRIPT
A lovely evening and grateful thanks must go to Ollie for travelling down specially to lay the trail for us. It was just reward for his efforts that so much was raised on the evening and he was justifiably gratified by the generosity of TVH.

* James Brown, The Blues Brothers (1980)
** Soon to be made into a film: Teign Valley P**s Up (2018)

ON ON to next week from the Castle Inn at Stoke Gabriel with Wigwam.

I BLAME IT ON THE GUN DOG IN THE FAIRY GROTTO

Mon 1st October #1762 The Park Inn Kingskerswell with Hares Shitfaced & T.Humper

Recollections - I've had a few Gun Dogs, but then again, too few to mention* as it was a strange, almost mystical evening from the Park Inn on the first evening of October. And, in my defence, I blame it on the Gun Dog in the fairy grotto. Confused? Then read on, my faithful and long suffering literates..

Said (befuddled) recollections, such as they were, herewith follow but remember the title please:
June 11th last time at the Park Inn #1746

The gathering gloom prompts a semi poetic opening by our venerable Grand Master:
'We might just celebrate the last vestiges of light (at the circle) before it gets really dark.'

The background blur of various notices by various hashers disturb the various hashers' gossip and catch up - naughty school kids all.

Man Pig reveals a bit of intelligence on the direction of the trail: 'There's flour everywhere outside mine!'

Teapot - he came back - a man like him** calls the attendees at thirty five, just as three more round the corner.

An extremely shy virgin is shielded and protected from the motley crew by T Humper - Casey is her name, not to be confused with the vice president.

We listen to important details such as Shitfaced declaring a monster six mile long.

We're off and the first climb will decide what trail I can attempt. Breasting the rise and the first L/S split, I hesitate and then decide to play the game and go long, a wiser Erection (can an erection ever be wise, I hear you ask) skedaddles right onto the short. If I knew then what I know now, I would have Shirley followed.

Man Pig and Fukarwe chat but I'm too breathless to join in.

Note the natty red heel flashers on Pork Torpedo - I want some.

Past the Lord Nelson we trundle and down nearly to 3sum's drum before inevitably turning right back down to the main road. We all have a sense of deja vu as we negotiate the playing fields, but in reverse.

Up a short hill and we rejoin the trail all of 75 yards down from that first L/S split, yes, we have been silly-sodded - sigh.

I have latched onto Piddler, he of the long range bermudas and twin knee protectors. Shirley to heaven I can keep up with him - but no, he soon disappears at a rate of about one knot an hour into the velvety darkness, never to be seen again.

Up over the bypass and the madding crowd swells the highway. The big decision is whether to ascend the fields below North Whilborough or quit while I'm ahead. Now, do I look like a Wally?

So return it is, nattering with Melon Picker about B & Q's rip off prices.

Back in the welcoming Park, I hear that the hash has skirted the Bickleigh Mill and gone out as far as the Barn Owl - an epic indeed and all of the predicted six miles - confirmed by Beefy's strava.
Armed with my first Gun Dog 4.3 ABV, I retire to the mystical fairy grotto where the hash eats are being set up.

I join the crony crew table of Deep Throat, Grinder and Poacher to enjoy the Gun Dog.

The Ipplepenners' table is bare indeed with only Wet Johnny and Erection being let out to play.

Teapot takes the DDs which are:
T Humper, Pillock shirt to Man Pig for going home to take a shower after run.
Piltdown, Horsey horse face hat to Piddler - the reason escapes me and I blame it on the Gun Dog + the audio on the clip crashed.
SatNav to Deep Throat for 'getting lost' on trail.
Finally, a well deserved DD for Shitfaced for the big 6 miler.

EPILOGUE
The Parkies served up yet another feast of hashing with a not for the fainthearted epic trail and the hash special grub in the 'fairy grotto'. A lot of hard work was truly appreciated by all, thanks T Humper & Shitfaced.

*Apologies to Frank & Elvis
**Calvera, The Magnificent Seven you fools

OF DOGS AND DOGGING*

Run # 1761 Mon 24th Sept. Harcombe Woods in lane behind (EX6 7XS) Haldon F Diner OD: Bishop Lacey. Hares: Soapy & Melon Picker

Back to Harcombe we went for another Tour de Haldon and as I nosed round the corner in sight of the car park entrance, a veritable traffic jam unfolded before me. Gawd 'elp us all, there must be an awful lot of cars to necessitate parking on the verges outside. But no, it became apparent that the car park was now locked and barred. Oh sacre bleu! So what had happened to our snug little parking space, I hear you gently enquire?

 A little research found said locale mentioned in the Cruising Gays hookup guide (comments anticipated I am sure) and probably is one of the reasons the car park is now sealed: 

'𝑨 𝒄𝒂𝒓 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒌 𝒈𝒐 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒇𝒖𝒏. 𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒐𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒃𝒊, 𝒈𝒂𝒚 𝒄𝒅/𝒕𝒗 𝒇𝒖𝒏. 𝑳𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒔, 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒐 𝒇𝒂𝒓 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒌𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚!! 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓.
𝑵𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒅: 𝑯𝒂𝒍𝒅𝒐𝒏 𝑯𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒔'

Well, the dubious author of that pretty narrative got it spot on in the first sentence - though I don't think it wise to dwell on the subsequent somewhat lurid details.

The GM took charge of his rapidly swelling flock and shepherded us past the barrier into the vacant car park. Soapy and Melon Picker took centre stage after the ritual banter and described the evening's 'weapon of choice' as a concoction resembling crushed digestive biscuits. This turned out to be a sawdust and flour mix which 'might be difficult to see in the dark'... Soapy said the trail had taken much of the day to lay and was very well marked - and indeed it was. The moronic elements were reminded that if they didn't see marks, they were not on the trail... So there we had it, three L/S splits, a sweetie stop and the added reassurance (for me anyway) that it wasn't that long. With that, forty four hashers and seven dogs embarked on the adventure**.

It was dry, no wind and quite clement out there and the hashers did what they usually do: The gladiators duelled - Wide, Poacher, Beefy; the keep fit fanatics - Fukarwe, Manopause, Wet Johnny, 69, U Bend, Erection, SM Ellie, Forrest, Man Pig, 3sum, SatNav, Coldtits, Wigwam, Winfield, Hornie & Pork Torpedo et al, battled themseves; the just get rounders - typically Only Here for the Beer, did just that and the remainder, comprising the decrepit and walking wounded had but one ambition - to survive the expedition and arrive at the bar to tell of yet another triumph.

Bobby did what he does so well*** and promptly slipped up, much to Slip on Me's delight but she too 'fell' foul of the elements a bit later on. A novelty 'river' crossing was easily forded by a mossy tree trunk but still caused consternation for the more timid souls.
The sweetie stop, manned by Soapy was most welcome and the Berties sustained us for the final stretch back home. Just before that, our little group caught sight of a line of head torches spread out over a hundred yards or so which prompted Slip on Me to exclaim 'How beautiful, take a photo someone!'

Back at the cars and there was no dilly-dallying as hashers were well aware of the scarcity of parking spaces in Chudleigh though crafty Winfield and Wetfart found prime spaces, HA!

The strange tasting Greene King IPA was the chosen ale and at a watery 3.6 ABV, it ensured a safe journey home. The chips were how they should be, yes, crisp unt light brown.

The DDs were delayed as both hares and the GM & Georgy were still missing at 9:30pm. Coldtits was also absent and some had deduced that there could be a connection, but no, they were mistaken. It finally transpired that SM Ellie hadn't returned to Piltdown's car and a rescue party had been organized. Coldtits had zeroed in on SM Ellie's phone and she was eventually found. Her head torch was very low and she had had difficulty seeing the way through the forest but all's well that ends well. Well done, the rescuers!

Spud (the hash dog, I remind you) wearing the Pillock Hashit shirt was the highlight of the DDs. I do recall Crusher wearing a hash hat once but never a shirt!

A splendid and eventful evening courtesy of the hard work of Soapy and Melon Picker. Thank you.

Downdowns in the Bishop Lacy where the following offenders received justice?
T.HUMPER for allowing SPUD to make amorous advances to Choccy. (Spud found a drink as well ! )
SATNAV for knocking Winfield over in her rush to the bar.
PILTDOWN MAN (again!) for leading the pack astray.
MELLON PICKER drinks for the pairs excellent muddy-deceiving Trail.

*With apologies to John Steinbeck
**Ding Dong went back to the van to collect her dog so was a bit late on trail.
***Come on, this is Bobbiball we're talking about, so you must know what he does so well!

On-On to next week at The Park Inn Kingskerswell with Hares Shitfaced & THumper.

HOME MADE FLAPJACKS AND CRISP UNT LIGHT BROWN CHIPS AT LAST

Run #1760 Monday 17th Sept. Circle Middle CP Trendlebere Down Dartmoor. OD The Dolphin Inn Bovey, with Hare Beefy

The not so merry season of roadworks is firmly upon us, as signalled by last week's mega works in Ipplepen and continuing Monday evening in Bovey Tracey. Numbers did seem on the lowish side at the circle - nearing thirty - and some hashers had missed the 7pm town closure and become 'marooned' Chudleigh Knighton side. Late arrivals brought numbers up to around thirty five.

The words could be summarised in one sentence: A brilliant Birthday Bash bestowed by Beefy with praise for his homemade flapjacks. However, dearly beloved, you do not escape my crutches, sorry, clutches, so easily... Is that a collective sigh of regret I hear? No matter, pray continue with the chronicle..

Being of unsound mind and diminishing intellect, I had failed to identify the correct circle car park, even after consulting the map man himself*. Singing 'Everybody knows the Bird is the word' I had seen, out of the corner of my eye, a smattering of yellow clad figures on my right and with a snarl of rage had been forced into a mid road manoeuvre to return. I wasn't the only one though, as I heard that the latecoming Queen** herself had tried the first car park before moving on.

Reassuringly, T Humper, Slobbadog and I Poo'd had returned after an absence of a few weeks and good to see Ding Dong and her two multi-award winning dogs.

The Birthday hare Beefy was brooking no interference when finally addressing the rabble - sorry Beefy! The menu of trails on offer was comprehensive indeed: 4 L/S with an extra long thrown in for luck, the 'extra long' estimated at 5.5 miles, the 'ordinary' long at 4.5, the short 3.5 and the walkers trail of some 2 miles. Also included was a specially prepared SS which will be described later..

The various trails were well thought out and converged at several points. Poacher and hound whizzed past Winfield and me three or four times on his sightseeing tour of the scenic nature reserve. Late arrivals 3sum and Satnav overtook us and Coldtits was not far behind. Welcoming lights were eventually seen through the trees of Yarner wood and we arrived at the SS which was set up inside the rustic and robustly built information shelter. A vast array of vittles had been laid out, including cider, water, lemonade, home made flapjacks, mixed nuts, olives and other tasties. Beefy had, not for the first time, done us proud. We tarried in the snug confines before resuming the trail - a gentle descent back to the car park. I lent Wiggy my headtorch for the final section and I'm not sure how he had got round before that with no light.

In theory, we were well in time to make the Dolphin by the food shut off time of 9pm except for the small matter of getting there - the town being shut to all traffic for road resurfacing. My chosen route was the swimming pool approach road, but following the Ipplepen chariot, I was surprised to see them slow down at the roundabout turn off and then choose the next turning! Thinking the lads knew something I didn't***, I pursued them for a mile and a half, heading east to Japan before giving up and returning to the reliable route. A mere hundred yards away from the Dolphin and parked in various disarray, white van man U Bend & Piddler and T Humper & crew had secured prime positions.

Inside the Dolphin and the IPA 4.0 was the business for drivers and the Jail 4.8 for the passengers but the tour de force of the evening, for me at least, were the chips. At the serving hatch, I requested - in my best German accent: 'I vant mine crisp unt light brown, bitte..' And do you know what? They were! I was in hashing heaven, sat in the balcony section of the bar with a pint of IPA, and a dollop of mayo on mine chips Hans. I doff my cap to the Dolphin, a triumph!

POSTSCRIPT
A solid and enjoyable trail within an area I hadn't seen before and it was clear how much effort had been put in by the solo hare, all power to your flour Beefy.

#1760 TRAIL AWARDS
On Hunk o'Beef's Birthday Trail at Trendlebere Down
First Award to BEEFY, for an excellent trail plus the usual harmonious? Birthday song to congratulate him on both.
Next BEEFY again! as Georgy P really loved that yummy Flap Jack.
PILTDOWN MAN ( already prepared shirt off) for nearly snapping another woman's (Fallen Woman) ribs in a passionate game??
POACHER for self abuse in taking a DD and he only passed us 5 times on trail ?
*Winfield of course.
**Coldtits!
***Driver Wet Johnny blamed their slight detour on his navigator - either Roxanne or Manopause!

ON ON to next week from Harcombe Woods CP behind Haldon Forest Diner EX6 7XS OD Bishop Lacey. Soapy & Melon Picker.

CIDER WITH SATNAV & 'I VANT MINE CRISP UNT LIGHT BROWN'

Monday 10th September #1759 From the Wellington Inn, Ipplepen with Hares: Erection & Roxanne.

The star attraction was undoubtedly the Virgin Lay by Roxanne & Erection. A daunting task lay [sic] ahead and the novices had prepared thoroughly. Four days of poring over Google maps and a staggered double lay on Sunday and Monday demonstrated the care taken by the local lads. So, how did they do? Read on and see...

The ample car park behind the pub soon filled up with the somewhat shredded hash caravan which had negotiated the extensive roadworks en route. It was good to see old buddy and Ash Hasher Zorro at the circle. Three trails had been laid to accommodate all tastes and abilities. The short was estimated at 3.5 miles and the long 6 - 6.5 miles which prompted oohs from the gallery. The mention of a hash-pleasing cider & sweetie stop elicited an even more enthusiastic response. Thirty eight hashers true were counted out through the narrow entrance with Erection, already on trail, making thirty nine.

Thirty nine hashers, each with a tale to tell of the evening. Poacher, as is his wont, rapidly disappeared from view and was not seen again until inside the pub. Beefy and Dutch Rudder pioneered the search party for marks with Manopause, Wet Johnny, Forest and Robin* in close attendance.
Unfortunately, tracking the sharp end, our party soon distanced the rest of the longs which ultimately caused a problem or two for some of us - more on that later.

Back down the trail and Winfield had his own story to tell:
'I was following near the tail end of the pack concentrating on not trying to run for too long on my improving knee condition. We left Ipplepen, headed to Orley Common and saw the Walkers' mark and then encountered a L/S mark which some thought was a Split! On On cautiously towards Torbryan as very few marks and met Erection who directed us on to the village. Marks led us off road to the Old Rectory where the usual loud barking dog was waiting! On On off road though a field to lane with L/S split. This group, headed On Short except for Archangel who chose the Long! At Wrenwell Cross a Check and after searching a farmyard and being told that it was private land, we found the footpath beside it which let to the excellent Cider/Sweet stop.'

Meanwhile, with the advance party of longs, I had been forced to stop with severe Achilles tendon problems. Forest & Robin, complete with hounds blurred into the fading light and looking back I espied SM Ellie similarly isolated after her companions had opted for the short trail. Onto tarmac, I decided to risk it (and go as a biscuit) and made contact again with 'Robin de Forest' just as we veered off road and up a long, heavily wooded path which we all 'enjoyed' immensely.

Eventually, we reached the outskirts of Denbury and the defining (for us anyway) moment of the trail. A large arrow had been 'got at' and there was no way of telling the direction. We continued straight on and came upon the memorial crossroads and turned right and down to the Union Inn. It was make our minds up now, whether to search for the trail or cut our losses and get back to Ipplepen and the beer. By now I was limping heavily so we chose the latter course of action. I was tasked with going into the Union and asking for directions as Forest had cunningly stated that 'They won't listen to a one-legged man!' 'But they'll think I'm an idiot!' I countered - so no contest..

Little did we realise that, only a few hundred yards away, down the lane from the Union Inn, the cider/sweetie stop was in full fling - over to Winfield to resume his tale:

'I tried to take a posing pic of Satnav drinking from the cider bottle, but as the top was loose, she poured it down her t-shirt! On On again in the gathering gloom we plodded, down Beech Trees Lane which led us up through Clennonpark wood. Torches were needed now and eventually we finally found ourselves back in Ipplepen and the On-Home.'

A half-sozzled Union Inn local imparted wisdom to the bedraggled Bird: 'It be about two mile, as the crow flies, keep bearing to your right mind...' Sound advice indeedy but for two things - we weren't crows and we definitely were not in our right minds...

A quarter of an hour later and the signage (probably of WW2 vintage designed to confuse) indicated that we had gone all of a quarter of a mile - and that after 'legging' it. The orange illuminated church tower of St Andrew revealed itself to be but an illusion on the horizon as it never seemed to get closer, prompting Forest to gasp 'We're caught in a time warp, we'll never get home!'

But of course we did, and upon checking the GPS, saw we had covered virtually the same distance as the proper trail - 6.1 miles.

Warm and welcoming was the Wellington Inn and they had laid on bangers & chips in a basket at £2.50 a throw for the hash though the Dad's Army U Boat commander's quote did spring to mind when I saw the chips: 'I vant mine crisp unt light brown...' But never mind, there was excellent feedback for the trail and I wish that the Robin de Forest band of Merry hashers could have made the cider stop and second half of the trail. Roxanne & Erection's trail lived up to the expectations and our thanks to them for the evening. Thanks lads, I had a great time.

THE AWARDS FROM "VIRGIN HASH" No 1759
First presentation to...
ROXANNE & ERECTION for the trail of two halves but it all worked!
BOBBIBALL (came all the way to the pub on his 'moto' cycle) something unrelated about his camper van!
FALLEN WOMAN who was following a cigarette paper trail?
POACHER and FORREST STUMP who had the combined birthday song sung in the usual harmonious way!

*There has to be some connection with (Sherwood) Forest and Robin (Hood) but it's got me stumped so far - No? Well please yourselves then.

ON ON to next week and Trendlebere Down ( MIDDLE CP) Dartmoor. OD Confirmed as Dolphin Inn, Bovey Tracey Hare: Beefy

NO MERCY LONG & SAVAGE SHORT aka VENI VIDI PASSUS SUM

# 1758 on Mon 3rd September at The Crown & Sceptre. Hares Poacher & Bluebird

PREAMBLE
An intriguing pairing of hares saw Poacher & Bluebird reunited in trail laying after a lengthy absence. The Crown & Sceptre also had been neglected and we had returned after a 40 month hiatus.

Several months previous, Poacher had persuaded me to lay a joint trail and I had accepted, believing that Poacher would forget the beer laden discussion in some already forgotten OD. But he hadn't and I had, dear friends, dreaded the awful day that I would have to lay once more.

In the event, I had little to worry about, as the youthful Poacher laid virtually all the trail, relying on me as merely the 'technical advisor', which suited me down to the very ground that I had trod for half a century and more. Without further ado, ON ON to the words then...

NO MERCY LONG & SAVAGE SHORT aka VENI VIDI PASSUS SUM
The trickle became a mini flood as hashers arrived from whatever bolthole parking space they had secured. Forty three was the count with the pub packed out with nigh on 50. It was like olden days at the Crown & Sceptre and Dave did us proud with the sarnies and mini pasties.

The tiny pub car park could hardly contain the rabble who awaited the 'Deadly Duo's'* dread delivery.... HA! Poacher proved to be the sensible one, imparting useful facts to the already aghast assemblage before the Supreme Pillock, suitably colour clash coordinated, struck fear into gentle and timid souls all. The warriors and young bucks screamed defiance - COME ON, GET ON WITH IT!

Out from the shelter of the car park they went, some fearing for their survival and safety. Poacher took charge of the 'No Mercy' longs and the 'Savage shorts' whilst the abomination led, Pied Piper like, the bewildered and confused.

A luxury indeed, pottering along the downs and it was a busman's holiday observing the hash descending to Little Oddicombe through telephoto lens. Winfield had taken a breakaway party of hashers down into Oddicombe woods to intercept the trail at the Cary Arms and we watched their gentle progress from the railings above.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch house, the No Mercy longs had smashed their way down the woods above Petitor cove (nudist) and cursed Poacher as they came to a dead end which had been sadistically converted to a thoroughfare and necessitated a ten foot vertical climb to escape. From there they joined with the Savage Shorts and descended onto Little Oddicombe and thence across the sandstone mud spill to Oddicombe, the Cary Arms and Walls Hill.

VENI VIDI PASSUS SUM**
The light was fading fast as the intermixed longs and 'savage' shorts survivors approached the southern tract of Walls Hill and the piece de resistance of the trail.. Either go short across Walls Hill towards the setting sun and assured safety of the pub or hazard the darkening doom descent through the cut and the anguish and danger de mort of the subsequent ascent.

There were some that were unexpected and some that were missing but every hasher and harriet that managed the last long were magnificent - it was a time of heroes and triumphant were those that emerged from the depths of Redgate. Te saluto, I salute you!

One by one they materialised from the dark: Beefy, Jay, Deep Throat and then the Ipplepenners Manopause and Wet Johnny, an unknown black clad lady, Going Down (whoa!) and Piddler. The yellow vested U Bend preceded a bare chested Ramboesque Wigwam - what a baptism for his SWEATEMBER CHALLENGE in memory of Migman - good boy Wiggers! There followed a torchless Wide Receiver and bringing up the rear was Forest and hound escorting two harriets.

Beefy's Strava failed but another GPS watch had the long at 4.6 miles with most out for over an hour.

DOWNDOWNS
SOAPY (Hashit shirt) the new budding author of Havoc's tale "Wherever I hang my Lead"
TEAPOT (Horsey Horseface hat) for asking if he should now "blow off?"
"GEORGY P. (substitute Checkin' Chicken hat) who took a dip in the sea".....
....but nominated SMELLIE for the DD!
JAY (Ipplepen crew) now to be known for ever as DUTCH RUDDER

POSTSCRIPT
The lay was long and arduous, the trail easy (for me) and the pub was something else. Long after the hash had dispersed, I sat down with the Ipplepenners and many a tale did we tell as we continued to sup with Dave finally throwing us out just before midnight and engaging in a mock kung fu fight out in the road with Dutch Rudder - you had to have been there to see it, magic.

Hey ho, ON ON to next week and the much anticipated Virgin Lay of Roxanne and Erection from where else? Yes, the Wellington Inn at Ipplepen.

*A Winfielder
**I came, I saw, I suffered.

PANIC AT THE RIVER CROSSING AND THE RETURN OF WIDE

#1757 Mon 27th August at Staverton Railway Station. Hare: Beefy.

A novelty venue indeed - Beefy, he of Thomas the Tank Engine fame, had engineered [sic] the event which would allow TVH to enjoy an extension to the South Devon Railway's 'Rails & Ales' cider and beer festival - more of this later.

Circle up was within the tiny railway car park by the level crossing and a certain amount of manoeuvring was necessary to accommodate us all before the Grand Master summoned.

Good to see the return of Wide Receiver who had been absent (owing to workload) for a few weeks. It was just as well as there was a distinct lack of RA's on the ground.

Beefy embarked on his course description of three L/S splits and a SS and eventually (prompted by the GM) got to the river crossing which provoked a question from SM Ellie: 'What if you want to run but don't want the water?' The usual hilarity ensued but SM Ellie's concern about the depth of water was somewhat dispelled by Beefy indicating that it was merely knee high.

Circle jollities concluded, the hash leisurely trundled across the level crossing and headed for the hills above the tiny community of Staverton.

Into the shadow of the wood and through a complex of ingenious Beefy style marks the hash endured before stumbling upon the quaint, medieval style tented Glade in the North Woods of the Dartington Estate where the SS was set up. Top man Beefy!

Impish indeed were the marks that then led us to our nemesis - the river crossing. A vast span of the Dart unfolded to our tiny band. Satnav, Threesum, 69, Forest and the wild-eyed Bird Blue surveyed the savage scene afore fearlessly wading forward to the far shore.
Memories of my camcorder's demise in Galmpton creek were still vivid and yet again, I had failed to bring the waterproof housing for the cam so my trepidation was palpable.

Seeing my anxiety, Satnav kindly took my hand and together we crossed safely - much to my relief. Thank you Satnav.

Now on the 'right' side of the river, we followed the railway line back to the station and the welcome of John the barman and his array of ales within the railway station.

The BYO food to share request by Beefy was really well supported and all manners of sandwiches and tasties were set out on the table by the bar. Simple soul that I am, I was completely taken in by the £20 and £10 napkins which added a classy touch to the fare.

Three dozen or so* may have been our select company, but a family atmosphere of conviviality prevailed as we sampled the ales and tucked into our joint offerings.

I have to mention one of the beverages, namely the Greenodd (Cumbria) brewery's Captain's Choice 4.1. In over 50 years of beer drinking, I have never tasted anything like this and the several hashers who (forcibly) sampled it agreed. The description is: 'Captain's choice is an amber old style English ale which is proving popular with old and young drinkers alike.' Ask any of the Ipplepen crew (mob-handed with Roxanne, Wet Johnny, Manopause, Erection and returnee Jay) what they thought.
The Captain's choice was, however, the only questionable 'beer' and all other available beers were excellent and fantastic value at £3 a pint. Bluff barman John got my number eventually and guffaws abounded at his observation: 'If you drank half as well as you talk, you'd be a world-beater!' HA! Like it, like it!

The downdowns were organized by Wide and supported by Teapot.

Forest 'kept it in the family' and awarded the substitute Checkin' Chicken hat to the 'hashette' who had enquired what exactly a river crossing was... ?
Good old Poacher sent the Hashit shirt to Georgy P Orgy who apparently had, like me, panicked at the river crossing.
Bluebird by courtesy of a vote, gave the Horsey Horseface hat** to Satnav for her helping hand across the river.
There was a birthday DD for Tiny Tanks and Threesum was awarded her 50 Run badge.

A most enjoyable evening so well done Beefy and ON ON to next week from the (now confirmed) Crown & Sceptre at St Marychurch

*Recall these hashers present plus 2 or 3 more:
Satnav, Threesum, Forest + 2, GM, Georgy Porgy, Rambo, Fallen Woman, Broken Man, WR, 69, Wigwam, Beefy, SM Ellie, Poacher, Tiny Tanks, Erection, Wet Johnny, Roxanne, Jay, Manopause, Doris, Teapot, Only Here for the Beer, Able Semen, Winfield, Shitfaced, I-Poo'd, Pisswell, Woof woof, Compo, Mrs S.

**The Moose hat is currently undergoing major surgery (antler ripped off) and sanitizing after my large tomcat gave it a severe mauling and finished it off by peeing on it.... sigh.

MIGMAN'S MEMORIAL HASH

Mon.20th Kestor Inn Manaton- Hare Poacher/69- Scribe Soapy
You’ve seen the pictures, now here’s the words, of a Monday evening quite absurd
Where Manaton residents soon discover, it was an evening like no other.
Locals in pub witnessed the sights, and thought we were transvestites!
Dressed in undies, bras and pantie, 38D’s and thongs quite scanty.
Brought along some cakes if able, carried in pub and placed on table,
To sell as many as we can, a memorial fundraise for Migman.
Some returnees came (six years too late) and swelled the pack to 48.
Motormouth and Her indoors, Ollie and Kermit all wore their drawers......
outside their clothing just for fun, all turned up to join the run.
Other returnees Fishbait and knotty, Palmolive, Miss Piggy Lyla and Lottie.
Our GM (the Sexy beast), asked a ‘supporting’ question, (to say the least!)
“Who discovered the brassiere?” but no one knew - it was quite clear.
Apparently, to match your briefs - the first one made of handkerchiefs!
Despite the raucous and the fun, we’d all turned up to have a run!
Poacher laid with 69, a proper trail and genuine.
Plenty of off road through the wood, 3 and on (as you should)
There was a trail for everyone, serious or just for fun,
Hills and checks kept us on toes, what people thought… goodness knows?
Amid thatched cottages and church on green, Pork torpedo could be seen…
in red bikini feathers flowing and Hornie also – everything showing!
Passing motorists looked aghast at bras and panties running past.
Blokes running in ladies knickers, athletes and blackberry pickers.
Long short splits all laid in flour got us back in ‘bout an hour
I did the short for what it takes (I had my mind set on those cakes)
Back at pub I had survived! As more cakes on table had arrived!
Cakes from here to kingdom come. Homemade, boughten, all yum yum!
Before the auctions down downs awarded, (can’t remember – not recorded)
Except that Poacher broke a tooth, (showed me where - so uncouth)
At last the time we’d all been waiting, tummies rumble anticipating,
Amid the sticky atmosphere, Forest was our auctioneer….
with Sexy Sandra (who was once a man) the cake shop bidding war began.
Big cakes little cakes, loaves and round, the prices rising pound by pound
Brownies, fairy cakes and Muffins, tension rising, bidding toughens.
Chocolate, fruit and some with cream with jammy bits sandwiched between.
Poacher bought at least three, kept asking “are they Gluten free?”
One by one they disappeared, and all too soon the table cleared.
All the cakes had gained new owners, a special thanks to all the donors.
£300 pounds (or just amiss), a brilliant amount for Rowcroft Hospice.
You gave from pockets and your purses, to help with care from special nurses.
An awesome cake was shared by all, made by Migman’s daughter in law.
A fitting remembrance at the end, to send our love to a special friend.
When loved ones leave we wonder why, but there is a Hash up in the sky!
So on a Monday be light hearted and remember friends who have departed.
Soapy xxx

…..

HALF A LEG, HALF A LEG ONWARDS*......

.......TO A P**S UP IN A BREWERY
#1755 Mon 13th August from The RED ROCK BREWERY Bishopsteignton.
Hares: Shit-Faced & Archangel  Scribe Bluebird
 My first visit to the Red Rock Brewery, nestled sleepily in the Humber depths above Bishopsteignton and I wasn't to be disappointed.
Hashing derring-do, another chance to ascend the Halls of Valhalla and, if surviving - a right royal p**s up in a brewery to conclude the jollity, but I overstep myself, so back to the beginning.
Rugged and rural parking was plentiful at the Red Rock and Broken Man and Fallen Woman had - as always - already reserved a prime position for their hashwagon as the hash cavalry drew up, cowboy fashion, in a cloud of dust.
A goodly turnout of some forty four and Winfield was quick on the draw answering the GM's party piece circle starter for ten question to secure the Red Rock pint.
Soapy stepped to the oche to deliver her exhortation for Migman's Memorial Bra & Pants run next week and a plea for cakes to be baked/bought and brought along for an auction in the Kestor afterwards - all proceeds to Rowcroft.
Shit-faced delivered the glad tidings for the trail - three L/S splits with marks on the right and with the setting sun at our backs we set off on another journey into the unknown.
A longish climb strung the pack out and upon breasting the rise an unexpected sight befell mine eyes - half a leg lying forlornly and abandoned at the road junction. Thinking that a calamity had befallen Forrest, I gathered the half a leg up and set off to find our gladiator of the hash.
Up a gloomy and craggy lane we struggled to suddenly be met by Poacher in all flee mode coming back to us - apparently the victim of one of his Ha Has at the summit.- the biter bit so it would seem. Forrest, propelled by his hound, loomed into view and explained the purpose of the 'half a leg'. Still, a trophy it was and I continued to clutch it, magpie like around the trail.
The trail manifested itself as a huge figure of eight loop with chances aplenty for shorts and walkers to keep up with the action. Espied along the way were Slip on Me, Teapot and buddy Wetfart, Broken Man and Rambo - all determined to upkeep the ethos of the hash - you all dun good.
The last L/S and Fukawe and I, both pretty well done in by the climbs would have sneakily opted for the silvery short but for Tiny Tanks and Woof Woof just ahead. 'What are we, men or wimps?' quoth Fukawe and off we (reluctantly) staggered.
Across the last field and glory be, the brewery (and the beer) could be seen below us as Forrest asked us for our estimates of the mileage. I thought about the same as last week (3.7M) but remarkably it was 5.3M though Forrest was the closest, guesstimating 5 plus miles.
Inside the tiny bar area we patiently queued for the Red Rock selection and the £2.50 price tag - what a night for the non drivers it was! The pies at £2 were great as well I was told. Through a comfy snug and into a betrestled garden did we gather in the fading light to quaff our ale and await the entertainment afforded by the downdowns. Our Song-master Pork Torpedo astonished us with several bawdy ditties - oh hail the Song-master!
DOWN-DOWNS
Moose hat by Poacher to Kermit's partner (who passed it on to Kermit) for refusing to let him pass.
Hashit shirt by Hornie to Bluebird for last week's shenanigans and losing his keys.
Substitute Checkin' chicken hat by Bluebird to Fukawe for not coming to his aid when he was felled by a low branch.
250 Run Badge to Fukawe.
Hare's DD to Shit-faced for the trail and Ha Ha.
* From the Alfred, Lord Tennyson poem 'The Charge of the Light Brigade' … 'Half a league, half a league, half a league onward..' No? well please yourselves then.
A brilliant evening and thanks go to Shit-faced and co hare Archangel for their efforts and not forgetting the huge hospitality of the Red Rock Brewery.
ON ON to next week and the Migman Bra & Pants Memorial run from the Kestor Inn at Manaton with Poacher & 69.