A WINTER'S TALE WITH SHIGGY GALORE SERVED UP BY SCREWED (WITH BELLA)

 

Run #1852 Monday 7th December from the Canal CP Teigngrace with Screwed & Bella

 

𝑨 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒅𝒂𝒘𝒏𝒆𝒅

𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒓 𝑰'𝒎 𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒏𝒆𝒅

𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒔 𝒊𝒇 𝑰 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑺𝒐𝒂𝒑𝒚'𝒔 𝒃𝒐𝒐𝒌

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒇𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒌

 

Yes, Oh Dearly Dry, starv-ed of the liquid of life, inspiration was absent. Delusion, already alcoholess fermenting, became rampant as I thought of exotic excuses to explain the absence of words this week.

But what would they Shirley think, the loyal and trusting fabled few as they drifted away - perhaps a little disappointed, who knows? So (Cruise) without further Much Ado About Nothing:

 

𝑶𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉, 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔, 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆;

𝑶𝒓 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒖𝒃 𝒖𝒑 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅...

 

That's better, I think I can continue now Shirley, so read on my one faithful reader and rejoice (or despair) that all is not now lost:

 

A lone chariot with Manopause at the wheel was tethered in that wild and lonely Canal car park out in deepest Teigngrace. There was nothing else to do and Manopause became aware of a chariot describing complicated manoeuvres out on the highway. Twice it passed before finding the entrance. It could only be one hasher, and He who should not be nam-ed finally nosed alongside.... sigh.

 

My first natter with another hasher for some time and merry was the discourse until they arrived...

And arrive they did as they had FB pledged.

 

They trickled in from the hills and the valleys; from town, village and hamlet seeking redemption and solace.

 

Tricky seeing those in attendance but finally think I have everyone including dear Coldtits who arrived late but not as late as Archangel who started his run on Tuesday morning but play the game he Shirley did, eventually:

 

GM Shitfaced, Teapot, Piltdown, Georgy P, SatNav, Triple Jump, Gaga4It, Steph, Pisswell, T Humper, I-Poo'd, S M Ellie, Able, Well Hopped, Big End, Wet Johnny, Erection, Manopause, Beefy, ManPig, Deep Throat, Grinder, Artful Dogger, Wide Receiver, Slip on Me, Natalie, Coldtits, BB and Screwed with Bella.

 

Had it been but thirty five days since we all gathered by the river*? It seemed more than that to our close-knit and hash-starved band.

 

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩

𝙊𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩

𝘼 𝙢𝙖𝙟𝙤𝙧 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙨

𝘼𝙥𝙧𝙚̀𝙨 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙡 𝙬𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙠!

𝙊𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙚'𝙡𝙡 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙗𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙙𝙚𝙛𝙚𝙣𝙙

𝙏𝙤 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙙

 

The Grand Master reminded us how to circle up and offered up a question** (with no promise of a rewarding beer as there wuz no beer to be had) to the chilled cohort patiently waiting with frosty breath. Hares were requested for upcoming trails and then Screwed was asked to elucidate the intricacies of this, her virgin lay.

 

Three trails to satisfy all tastes and abilities: A walkers' pick me up (hopefully not) of two miles or so; a short of three plus miles and a long of five or more miles. We had previously been warned of mud, mud, glorious mud, so were prepar-ed Shirley.

 

The last but certainly not least instruction was 'No checks out there!' and we were summarily despatched into the Teigngrace mud.

 

All of five yards of terra tarmac and then it was skatey-skiddy time off-road. A Torbay AC club outing up front as Deep Throat and Grinder formed up with Wide Receiver and Wet Johnny and stretched the metaphorical rubber band ahead of a clod-hoppered and one-eyed Bird,

 

Artful Dogger, complete with doggy Reuben, were getting organized and a combat betrousered Beefy was starting to gather up a head of steam [sic naturally].

 

Holding the reserve head torch in one hand was not a good idea as soon it could not be operated owing to the finger numbing cold, glove time already Eddy?

 

Some way out, deep in the boondocks, a bugle was sounded - yes, Oh Dearly Impressed, Teapot was out and about, determined to get an infusion of hashing.

 

Soon we were spread out and some were isolated, but the trail twisted and turned along the canal banks and, as others, I found entertainment and contact with other hashers along the way.

 

Wide Receiver was a hundred or so yards up the track and pottering along, enjoying the scenery but even at his leisurely pace, it took a sustained 160 BPM*** effort to gain contact.

 

Passing by the ancient railway track, Wide pointed out the strange 'rocket' lying close to the disused railway. It was a veritable and unexplained mystery and we tarried awhile with Coldtits. But what's this? The appearance of Erection who had been like an itch I couldn't scratch for a couple of miles astern. Abandoning Penner buddy Manopause (unfit and presumably on the short?) Erection was evidently rockin' and rollin' en routey.

 

The trio set off again across the fields speckled from afar with twinkling urban lights and the terrain was rugged and shoe-suckingly muddy but at least the hands were warm again.

 

We were never far from the beautiful, the beautiful river [sic] but Deep Throat ('On a mission' according to WR) got closer than anyone, nearly careering into the icy depths at his frenetic pace... sigh.

 

Piltdown and Georgy (out and about again after fall) plus hash doggy moved over obligingly away from the electric fence as we overtook and soon we turned for home.

 

The FRBs were waiting and tales of derring-do were bandied about. ManPig and SM Ellie had somehow contrived to miss the long and a stewards enquiry ensued to determine the whereabouts of the river bridge and whether all had gone over it.

 

But never mind, we hashed and we had fun - full stop.

 

*There's almost always a river nearby at our hashes.

**When did the canal close? Apparently in 1937

***Beats Per Minute - anything over 150 is heart attack area for the Bird.

 

𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗧𝗦𝗖𝗥𝗜𝗣𝗧

Reflecting on the evening, there was great satisfaction derived. We had the usual excitement of the pre-circle gathering, then the trail itself which was excellently marked throughout and on horse racing going I would describe as 'heavy'. For a virgin trail lay, Screwed (with Bella) discharged her duties like an old hand, checking the marks beforehand, monitoring on trail and waiting for all hashers to return.

There was a few minutes of discussing the trail afterwards in the car park before Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow, our craving for the TV hash assuaged for now.

 

The temperature dipped markedly as Manpig and I waited for the safe return of Coldtits and an air frost glazed the tarmac and remaining cars, freezing my car boot lock solid. A Winter's Tale indeed this night but so well done Screwed - and the gallant Bella of course. A great deal of effort and well-received by all who took part.

 

𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗧𝗦𝗖𝗥𝗜𝗣𝗧

BroadS (knee injury) had wisely opted out to be on the safe side but why weren't you there 69 and Para?

 

𝗢𝗡 𝗢𝗡 to next week from the Parish Centre CP Church End Rd, Kingskerswell, Newton Abbot which is about 50 metres up (towards Newton Abbot) from our usual car parking space in Church Meadow. Trail lay by our hasher on the spot, ManPig! Take care everybody.

A WANDERING VIRGIN & BELLA GETS THE GREEN LIGHT

 

Run #1851 Monday 2nd November from the Wellington Inn at Ipplepen with hare Wet Johnny

Even more tardy are the words related this week, as I confess to a great melancholy which many of us may share. 

 

I beg your understanding for the confused jumble that follows:

 

Yes, Oh Dearly Devastated, hash, drink and be merry, afore the numbing November wilderness that Shirley awaits. 

 

Well, that should have cheered you up, so let's get ready to rumble.

 

They came to circle-up for the last round-up:

GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Teapot, Georgie, Able, visitor Mr X from H4, Pisswell, Steph, Natalie our virgin hasher, Beefy, Manpig, B Roads Hit going to risk it, SM Ellie, Slip on Me, SatNav, Jane with her wonderful wellies, Wet Johnny, Archangel, Coldtits, 69, Well Hopped, Big End & led Ned, Screwed & Bella. I think I got everybody.

 

Old friends, new friends and friends to be, gathered in the velvety, embracing darkness, faintly illuminated by a waning gibbous moon. Intimate, like a family affair, which of course it is, Oh Dearly Politically Incorrect Let Us Stick Together..

 

Ah, I feel a song coming on, so singalong with that seductive ladies swooning crooner*:

 

𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒏, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒏, 𝒍𝒆𝒕'𝒔 (𝒏𝒐𝒕) 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒂 𝒗𝒐𝒘 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓..

 

Yes, I know, I'm pertubalating** again.

 

Circle called to order and a virgin summoned for initiation. My, we hadn't seen this ceremony for many a wandering moon and you saw the joy in Teapot as he asked for flour to anoint the damsel new. And what was this? I do believe that a pair of new shoes were on show and gleefully did the R A supremo baptize the forbidden footwear.

 

An in depth pre-circle quizzing of the hare reveal-ed that the trail was heavily endowed with off-road and that a prodigious amount of the wet stuff had fallen - most recently at 5:30. 'But will I get away with my So Cruise road racers?' persisted he who should not be nam-ed. 'Do you remember the place you went a right royal purler last time? Well, it's even slippier now, so....'

 

Wet Johnny outlined the order of battle: A walkers' deluge delight, a soggy short of three or four and a long of five glorious miles.

 

The ON ON was called and with long warriors thin on the ground - Fukarwi on the road again - Beefy and the Karrimor clod-hoppered Bird sallied forth for the last Lockdown Long.

 

On skirting Orley Common, the second check materialized and the Bird waited (and recovered) to kick it out once Beefy had checked it out.

 

Whilst loitering with no particular place to go, (so we hashed way out on the Kokomo), a light approached from behind and a small dog attended by a young lady hove into sight. Naturally assuming it must be Well Hopped, I started a conversation, but was cut short by a 'I'm not with you lot!' and with a haughty sniff, she swept by... sigh. 

 

Just after a mile, B Roads Hit knew his hash was ended as the month long knee injury resurfaced and it was a lonely journey back to the chariot. Bad luck BroadS, but you'll be back, just like Arnie.

 

Meanwhile, back at the sharp end, Beefy and the Bird were puzzled. Where was old mucker ManPig? No sign of lights behind and for that matter, where were Big End and entourage? It was a rum do and no mistaka.

 

The crop denuded field of Agincourt mud opened up and on reaching the other side, the duo looked back to see a light commencing passage. Yes, it was ManPig who had been holding station some two hundred yards distant for a mile or two. But never mind, like all hashers true, his enjoyment of the trail was undiminished.

 

Shades of the previous week as we intersected with Coldtits on the short trail and had a chin-wag. Far away on the horizon, more lights appeared. It was beginning to get quite 'congested' out there but a Gold Star for the hare at cleverly combining the trails.

 

Past ye olde Church House Inn at Torbryan coursed the trailblazers. Glancing through the dimly lit window, two lonely and mournful drinkers were hunched over a table. And there ahead were Big End, Ned and Well Hopped, apparently on a short trail awayday.

 

Not so welcoming (trail shoes most unsuitable) road was encountered as we turned for home and came upon the l.e.d garlanded Bella who had got the green light with Screwed.

 

The last check awaited and Beefy chose right up the hill to espy Wet Johnny waiting for us accompanied by the long absent Manopause - nice to see you, to see you..

 

On her first hash, virgin Natalie, accompanied by Steph, went for a wander but both managed to get back to tell the tale. After seeing Beefy's Strava posting, they saw what had happened and are looking forward to next time.

 

Close to home, SM Ellie curiously appeared from the opposite direction. We never found out what exotic locations she had discovered on her village detour.

 

A pint or two of Otter in the Wellington put the seal on a very good evening.

 

*Bryan Ferry of course.

**Please tell me you didn't Google it.

 

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓

A professional trail lay by Wet Johnny and the five miles was exactly what was wanted. I know I harp on about my love of the rolling road, but with the correct footwear (for once), I really enjoyed the open country and muddy stretches aplenty. We thank you WJ for your well thought out and varied trail.

As hashers drifted away, Happy New Year greetings were exchanged as you never know, do you?

A closing tiny verse, intended for my own consumption to give even more cheer:

 

𝑶𝒉 𝒘𝒐𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒅𝒂𝒚, 𝒐𝒉 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒏

𝑶𝒖𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆

𝑨𝒏 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒂 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒓

𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒖𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆..

 

𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐍 to who knows when. Take care, hashers.

MING THE MERCILESS, BECHER'S BROOK & A POSSIBLE WONG WEI

Run #1850 Monday 26th October from the Park Inn, Kingskerswell with hare I-Poo'd's Birthday trail

'𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒈𝒂𝒖𝒏𝒕, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒅, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒐𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒕

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚'𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒅, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒊𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒏 '𝒆𝒎 𝒚𝒆𝒕...'

 

Back to Headquarters for I-Pood's Birthday hash and an oasis hiatus in the curtain of autumnal depressions.

 

Prove to me that you're no fool* and recall those present:

 

GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Teapot, 3Sum, Gag4It, Triple Jump, Brenda, Fukarwi, Roxanne, Harry, Wet Johnny, Gianluca, Big End, Small End, Ned, Well Hopped, Dad, I-Poo'd, T Humper, Archangel, Wiggy, Beefy, ManPig, SM Ellie, Slip on Me, Coldtits and special celebrity visit (and run) of Poacher and wingman Compo. Bobby Woll** arrived après trail for a diesel top-up.

 

Arriving late at the circle - test jog to see if it was possible to run - darkened figures were assembled for the pep talk and only a brief opportunity to check who was there. A number of tiny hashers were evident: Roxanne with Harry; Wet Johnny had brought along another Mini-Me - Gianluca and likewise Big End with a Small End (never did find out the nerd name).

 

A hashing milestone at #1850 and the expectant huddle half thought a tee shirt would be on offer, but the GM only celebrated the hashing landmark with a question about the first university to run a X country, Oh Dearly Robbed of a Memento..

 

Over to the hare(s) and a couple of stark warnings which sharpened the senses: Livestock in a field and the best angle of attack plus a stile that might 𝗘𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗗𝗮𝘆𝘀 (1999 Arnie) for the unwary.

 

The Go With Thy God was slightly anticipated by a pumped up and warmed up Bird who flew the coop (liked that so much last week, thought I'd try it again) and took wing down the hill, ignoring the vet's warning of a possible coronary.

 

With ears flat back and eyes narrowed, he waited for the Assassin to inevitably pass, not knowing that Wet Johnny would not be playing tonight, but having a day off training a wannabe assassin.

It was familiar territory down across the railway line and hard a port heading south up to the South Devon Highway flyover, safari so good, muchachos.

 

The footfalls and the flickering torches astern closed up as we crested the flyover and the L/S walkers split mark was espied. Thank you I-Poo'd, relief at not turning off into the shiggy either side and all hail the hill, Harry.

 

The tiny troops and hashing dads were formed up and Fukarwi - he that is patently lacking in fitness Shirley, was able to tag along for the ride.

 

Up and ever upwards ManPig, Beefy and the Bird endured and a windmill was mentioned by ManPig which seemed a good place to build one - on top of a mountain..

Breasting the summit and then:

 

𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒂𝒘

𝑨-𝒑𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒌𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒖𝒑 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅𝒚 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒘

 

Come on, singalong with Johnny Cash and the Ghost Hashers in the Sky:

 

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒍

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒉𝒐𝒕 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍..

𝒀𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒆 𝒚𝒊 𝒐𝒐𝒉

𝒀𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒆 𝒚𝒊 𝒚𝒂𝒚

𝑮𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝑯𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒚...

 

Didulikethat? No? Well I did anyway.

 

Warily did the dread three steer [sic] past the mighty herd, but hold hard Harry, the next obstacle loom-ed large - the fearsome stone drop stile AKA Becher's Brook on the National course at Aintree. The hashers with hooves of steel leapt over with alacrity but the delicate one hesitated, sensing, as always, his imminent demise and had to be assisted by Beefy.

 

The entrance to Compton Castle appeared on the left as we changed direction and the promise of the Gun Dog urged us onwards.

 

Glancing back, Beefy's light had disappeared and the thought was that his knee injury had forced an abandon, so it was a relief that he appeared safely a short time after the finish.

 

ManPig was on a mission and pushed on. Suddenly, a harriet appeared from the right hand track - it was SM Ellie and I stopped for a quick 'We must stop meeting like this..' and ManPig was quickly fifty yards to the good and going for glory. Into Snakey Copse and there, in the distance, was another short trail hasher and he was going pretty well. 

 

For a moment I thought it was Big End (same blue jacket), but as I closed, found it was Wiggy who confirmed later that for a few moments out there, he felt he was going great guns.

 

Ming the Merciless ManPig wasn't going to let 10 Grand Prix points slip from his grasp and continued to pour it on - right into his chateau which was most handily placed for a quick wash 'n' brush up.

 

There was no hiding from the all-seeing eye in the sky GPS, which revealed a possible Wong Wei by dear Coldtits nearing the end of her run. Arriving back at the railway bridge near the church, she embarked on another lap before eventually turning back.

 

Shirley Suspicion fell on the Bird when he arriv-ed back alone at the Park fifty minutes after departure. 'Did you see the castle?' enquired 3Sum to wit the reply from the dim-witted one [sic] was 'What castle? ...sigh

 

Now for a well-earned Gun Dog. Over and out for now, Oh Long Suffering Readers.

 

*And walk across my swimming pool - from the 1970 rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar.
**Sad news that the real Bobby Ball passed away this very evening.

 

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓

Testing and well laid trails, with all tastes catered for and a lot of work put in by I-Poo'd and company. The shorts at 4.19 miles (courtesy of Coldtits Strava) was only a mile shorter than the longs so they are to be congratulated on their efforts out there. The walking trail was an interesting figure of eight 1.47 miles (courtesy of 3Sums Strava).

 

The individuals that dropped by into the Park were particularly well looked after by a very hard working and attentive Park 'n' Ride - thank you 'Dad'! Some great photos posted of I-Poo'd enjoying laying the trail and a very Happy Birthday to you from everyone with thanks for all your efforts. In closing, a good time had by all and it was good to see Poacher again, cheers my old son.

 

𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐍 with everlasting hope in our hearts to next week from the Wellington Inn at Ipplepen with hare Wet Johnny.

ALL ARE SAFELY GATHERED IN ON AN EVENTFUL EVENING

Run #1849 Monday 19th October from Bovey Tracy CP with hares Beefy and Pisswell

 

I was late, so late, for a most important date as I turned into Bovey. A figure striding purposefully towards the Dolphin - away from the circle CP - caught my (Pop) eye, more on that later.

 

Entering the car park, a goodly number was already gathered by the river, the beautiful the beautiful river, but still below the maximum Judge Dredd requirement in these dystopian times.

 

Circle spotted:

GM Shitfaced, Teapot, Piltdown, Georgie, 3Sum, SatNav, Able, Slip on Me, Well Hopped, Big End & Ned, Screwed & Bella, Fukarwi, Roxanne, Harry, Wet Johnny, Erection, Ravi, SM Ellie, Pisswell, ManPig, Strap-On, BB, Coldtits, Artful Dogger, Beefy, Popeye, Gaga4It, Triple Jump and special guest appearance of Wide Receiver.

 

A pleasant surprise to see Wide Receiver back with us once more, but little time to chat as circle up was imminent. But wait, that's Popeye loitering in a tent* across the road and I know it's early, but singalong with me to the Coasters smash hit of '57 if you please:

 

(𝑮𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎**)

𝑨-𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏'

𝑶𝒉, 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒉, 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏' 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒂-𝒘𝒂𝒚

𝒀𝒆𝒂𝒉, 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒉

𝑶𝒉, 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒉, 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏'

𝑰'𝒎 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏'

𝑺𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏' 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒂-𝒘𝒂𝒚...

 

Yes, Oh Dearly Named and Shamed, Popeye was a searchin' for the Land Ho! circle but after a few bird calls from the car park, eventually joined our ranks... really Popeye, we thought you were one of us not one of...

 

And, Oh Dearly Confusion May Reigneth, there were two overlapping trails out there in the Bovey boondocks but never mind, Beefy had a cunning plan which was to be executed with remarkable precision. I know, hashes are not renowned for going right, but this was to be the exception that proves the rule, Rodney.

 

Contact had been made with Beefy's opposite number at Land Ho! and a campaign plan was hatched. TVH marks were a single dot and t'other one would have a double dot. Justatomakasura Shirley, all checks were suspended with arrows substituted. Hashers with caveman IQ's struggled to comprehend the complexities of the enterprise and Pete Tong nodded sadly.

 

Two L/S splits and a longish long of six miles and a bit with supporting short and hiking trails and, without further ado, Beefy dropped the chequered flag.

 

With the pep talk still being digested, the pack Hit the Road Jack [sic] and now comes the tricky bit which, doubtless, a few will be interested in, Oh Dearly How Can I Get Out of This...

 

Wide was on rails early doors and on the bunny through the unlikely chicanes pursued by Artful. Onto the B3344 Highway to Heaven and the Nike Epic Reacts*** were a joy - though a recent knee niggle was hampering engaging top gear - love it ,safari so good... BUT

 

An arrow of Ultimate Doom pointed down into an unappetizing and apparently muddy lane and the Bird, still undergoing therapy from the previous week, was loathe to leave the safety of the tarmac. Wet Johnny was bringing up the rear and enquired if all was well with the Bird who had now gone a Whiter Shade of Pale. But now I must hand you over to the hash proper while I try and make up a good story..

 

The pack dutifully descended into the black hole, turned left across two fields and were regurgitated back onto the main road three hundred yards along. Wide and Artful had flown the coop but the advance party of longs comprising Wet Johnny, Big End, Well Hopped, Fukarwi and Erection came across a very surprised hasher who could not believe his eyes and promptly fell to the ground, a foaming at the mouth. Oh Deary Me..

 

Convinced he was back on trail, the Bird flew [sic] down the road while the scouting party - equally convinced that the Bird had finally cracked - turned back to explore other more attractive avenues [sic]...

 

No marks, no marks, was the result and the Bird was now in quite a quandary. On his lonesome, he raised the white flag and retraced his faltering footsteps. Nothing! Not a sausage! Back to the right-minded...

 

A panel of red warning lights flashed on Artful's dash and after making the only real hill summit, he decided to abandon his burnt-out Ferrari and freewheeled forlornly back down into Bovey for an early bath. He only just missed intersecting with a (by now) very desperate Bird who was playing his final card to get back in the game.

 

A tiny blob of flour at the fire station roundabout gave hope that the trail would cross the Moretonhampstead road at some point and six turn-offs (all carefully inspected) later, a glorious arrow of redemption was sighted on the right hand side. That's handy Harry, pop it in the oven****..

 

Only just in time as Wide appeared some way in front of the next hasher, Wet Johnny, who had gradually moved through the pack. Then ManPig arrived and went on his lonely way. Several minutes later, merry banter could be heard and the Fukarwi styled 'touring club' crossed the road - namely Fukarwi, Popeye, Big End, Ned and Well Hopped.

 

Two hundred yards later, we came upon ManPig who had been studiously examining the vegetation for some time, looking for clues....sigh

 

Hashing proper got underway and the trail led us into the East Dartmoor woods of Beefy's realm. Hash calls could be heard from Land Ho! and ManPig called back to let them know that TVH were here and about to join the party. Did you hear us Grinder? I know you're there, so don't try and hide.

 

Ah, familiar territory and the tiny marks were intuitive as we toured the riverside trails and it was going swimmingly until the (Wong Wei) railway road chugged into view and the first sighting of the dread double dots.

 

And then it all kicked off Arry. A weird combination of Mad Max vehicles and figures, tricycles, motorized lawnmowers, mopeds and quad bikes came charging down the old railway line towards the bemused duo of ManPig and the Bird. Yes, Land Ho! were having a hoot in the woods, hereabouts and thereabouts.

 

Also having a 'hoot' was Coldtits on her usual nocturnal investigations en routey, listening for owls, spotting bats and mushrooms. Remember, a hash is many things to hashers and it's not all about cavorting around racking up Grand Prix points.

 

A casualty of the trail was Strap-On (which curiously reads backwards: No-Parts) who took a tumble and was later found to have fractured a metatarsal which will necessitate a few weeks off running. Beefy was sweeping the trail and was able to direct a limping Strap-On the quickest way back to base.

 

Another adventure was panning out farther back on the trail as Screwed and Bella somehow took the last long split and came across Roxanne - whether son Harry was with them is not clear as we encountered the little lad in the car park and he didn't seem to know where dear old dad was - answers on a postcard please.

 

Homeward bound we spotted the Land Ho! chariot tether in Parke and they shouted encouragement as we passed. Despite my unfortunate 'detour' I recorded 6.26 miles - about the same as those that did the official trail.

 

The Bell or the Dolphin? We preferred the Bell but as time was pressing, opted for the Dolphin and entering from the front, failed to spot the 'No Entry' sign and we were gently chided by the staff. After registering our life histories, there was just ninety seconds to get the drinks in but at least we got some beer, unlike the hare..

 

*No? Well...

**Land Ho! of course.

***Sadly still no trail shoes at the moment

****Loved that advert back in the day when a pizza carton landed on the table from on high.

 

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓

All in all, a most eventful evening, what with the overlapping trails; the howler of a mistake early trail by someone who should know better; the fall and injury of Strap-On - fortunately not too serious; the accidental foray onto the last long by Screwed and Bella and a rather well thought out trail by the hare which combined virgin urban sprawl with ideal hashing trail territory in the woods.

 

As you know, the usual closing thoughts are recognition and thanks for the work undertaken by our hare(s) on the night, but Beefy and Pisswell's efforts were exceptional. Planning, laying and sweeping were executed faultlessly and the sight of the hares entering and leaving the Dolphin without having the opportunity to at least have a drink was disappointing and no reward for their joint efforts. I'll get you a beer next week! ManPig and I waited for you in the car park, Beefy and we only just got in before the last orders at 9:15 pm. Never mind, we all knew how well you both had done - thank you from everyone Beefy and Pisswell.

 

𝗢𝗡 𝗢𝗡 with hope in our hearts to next Monday from the welcoming Park Inn at Kingskerswell with Hare: I-Poo'd.

CONQUERING MT DOOM, THE MUDSLIDE OF CERTAIN DEATH & WET JOHNNY THE GENT LENDS A HAND

Run #1848 Monday 12th October from Lawns End Park, Bishopsteignton with hares Coldtits and Polyfella

 

Forgetting the turn-off was Forder Lane, I spent some time exploring Cockhaven and Church roads looking for the elusive Lawns End Park, finally having to ask directions from a dog walking local. Par for the course..

 

But there at last was the haven of the circle up chariot park with wartime blackout restrictions still in operation.

 

Shadowy hashers picked out:
GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Georgie, Teapot, Coldtits, Polyfella, Beefy, 69, Fukarwi, ManPig, Strap-On, Pisswell, SM Ellie, Wet Johnny, Erection, Ravi, Roxanne, Harry + 2, Artful Dogger, Big End and red led Ned, Well Hopped, Screwed and Bella.

 

I tried unsuccessfully to get an autograph from Strap-On who has just been unanimously voted the TVH Slimmer of the Century. He is about to embark on a Covid-controlled tour of Torbay to promote his new range of SlimJim© menswear.

 

Inky black Circle summoned were the motley throng and the usual pleasantries dispensed by the Grand Master before the glad tidings of the evening's jollities were announced by the hares. Two L/S splits with a cautionary warning about something tricky in the closing stages - but the Birdbrain was still adjusting his newly acquired ACME main beam head torch and paid scant attention. It was a decision he would have cause to regret in about fifty five minutes time...Oh Dearly Just an Accident Waiting to Happen..

 

Polyfella pointed towards the entrance to the park and the extravaganza was underway with Artful, turbo spluttering, careering the Wong Wei and having to be recalled. Misgivings - later to be justified - about the wisdom of wearing road racing flats were to the fore as the grass was wet and slick but Shirley the tarmac beckoned Becky.

A horse is a horse of course of course* and the main road could be sighted in front of that supreme slimmer Strap-On, proudly leading the pack, but the luxury was to be fleeting as we turned for the river, Oh Dearly Having a Sinking [sic] Feeling...

 

An obstacle course of rocks, piles of seaweed and assorted horrors were encountered as we lurched along the banks of the Teign. The sheet of galvanized metal nearly ended the game before it had really started. In the distance, Artful had regained the lead and was nearly out of third gear on the awful terrain with the Assassin** purring along in stealth mode close behind. Beefy, meanwhile, was taking snaps of the Teign, tourist style, and had little interest in getting involved with the frenetic pace.

 

Up the little known Jack's Patch lane under the railway to be met by Polyfella, standing guard on the busy main road and who was making sure that there was no hasher roadkill on his watch. Teapot had stolen a march on most (card marked?) but looked quite perky and good to go.

 

It was then a case of ON ON up and up - and up some for two kilometres until the summit of Mt Doom was reached, some seven hundred feet above the glistening Teign:

 

𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙

𝙏𝙤 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖 𝙡𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙡 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚

𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙

𝙊𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙝 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚 .. No? Well I think I need a shot of O2 at this altitude.

.

Ah, blessed tarmacadam followed as a reward for our heady endeavours as Beefy and the Bird sauntered steadily along to the final L/S split and if I knew then what I knew afterwards, I would Shirley have heeded Polyfella's advisory, given so long ago at the circle..

 

Taking the wise option were Screwed and Bella with Roxanne and tiny crew in attendance, but on reflection, perhaps the tinies would have enjoyed themselves on the hilarious helter-skelter Harry...

But never mind, In the Heat of the Night (1967 recommended viewing) a hasher has to do what a hasher has to do and saluting sharply the touring duo embarked on what would be for some, the fateful final frontier...

 

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐁𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 while sales staff attend the stalls with refreshments (you Shirley will need them). A short feature might keep you entertained***:

 

𝗕𝗢𝗕𝗕𝗬 𝗪𝗢𝗟𝗟'𝗦 𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠

The Gun Dog vas relaxing und der brown haze swirled down upon a soporific Bobby Woll und he began to dream a fitful dream...so ACHTUNG Baby****

 

In some far-flung Bavarian bierkeller sat a dejected rottenführer. He'd had a bad day in der Panzer and had come out for ein or zwei biers. An assortment of life-size cardboard cutout caricatures were arrayed to keep him company including the notorious Blauer Vogel. Entering stage left vas Doris to have her mandatory pint of Guinness. 'It must be a dream,' mused the celebrated tank gunner but the apparition downed der Guinness and turned to depart with a wistful 'I'll see you sometime...' 

 

It was all too much for Bobby, now suitably saturated mit dem Gun Dog and he rose unsteadily with glass in hand to give a reverse rendition of Der Panzerlied..

 

'Ve'll meet again, don't know vere don't know ven but I know ve'll meet again vun ..'

'Enough!' cried the management, 'Ve, I mean we will have no singing in this establishment.' Disappointed, the rottenführer did desist but muttered 'I vill be back - in mein Panzer...'

 

'𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏 𝐁𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐘, 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄!' 'Oh BB, thank goodness, I was having this strange dream, let's go home...'

And now,

 

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

A familiar junction materialized on the Humber Road and a check - is it right to the Red Rock brewery or left?

 

Wet Johnny couldn't find any more than a single dot, brewery side and a quarter of a mile along the other choice yielded a similar result. We had tarried some time and lights appeared from astern - ManPig and Fukarwi with Artful also resurfacing after taking some strange scenic route.

 

As usual, Manpig seemed to know where we were and what route to take. It transpired it was left along the Bird abandoned route... sigh

 

What climbs high above Bishopsteignton must Shirley descend back down into:

 

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐃𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 and the Bird knew immediately that he'd got trouble, right here in River City, with a capital T that rhymes with P that stands for pool.

 

Hashers a half mile away heard the death screech as the Bird fluttered and slid to destruction down the near vertical mud slide. It was just as the Idiot had feared, the road racing flats had less grip than a pair of roller skates and I know what you're thinking Fukarwi - Whatamis.....

 

The once majestic road running prairie chicken was swiftly reduced to a dead duck in a thunderstorm, but wait, what do I hear? Why it's my old running buddy ManPig, I'm sav-ed Shirley. 

 

But there was to be no salvation here m'dears as ManPig, with a sneer and a cruel glint in his eyes, swept past, Oh Shirley Shed a Tear for the Dead Duck..

 

Meanwhile, a little farther down the slide of death, poor Georgie had taken a tumble but a damsel rescuing knight was at hand to give comfort and lend assistance - one Wet Johnny, such a gent and Georgie sends her thanks.

 

Fukarwi came across a hasher clinging for dear life to the chain link fencing and babbling like an idiot. 'You won't leave me to die out here, will you old friend?' Gently did Fukarwi lead the car crash back to the darkened row of chariots and a total rebuild.

 

*Mister Ed - great tv series early sixties.

**Wet Johnny you fools.

***I pray indulgence from some and give apologies to same.

****U2

 

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓

Yes, Coldtits and Polyfella, you know that we loved the trail! It kept a few of us guessing and there was never a dull moment out there. I really should have listened to you, Polyfella, but I can laugh about that mud slide now!

 

Departing (the way I should have entered), I saw a runner coming along the main road. On passing, I realized it was Artful Dogger! Clocking up over seven miles and possibly straying off trail the same number of times, this was probably his last run until the End of Days (1999) or December anyway.

 

ON ON to next week and Station Road CP, Bovey Tracy TQ13 9AL with hare Beefy. Non Down is wherever you want: "Decide for yourself."

 

Monday 12th October

Run #1848 Monday 12th October from Lawns End Park, Bishopsteignton TQ14 9PJ with hare Coldtits. To access Lawn End Park, enter via Forder Lane as shown on the map. Take the first right into The Drive and the park is the second turning on the right. Parking and benches at the end of the road. Please indicate on post if you are going. Thank you.

 

NOUGHTS & CROSSES GAME AND RED L.E.D NED LED THEM HOME

Run #1847 Monday 5th October from Ipplepen FC with hares Wet Johnny and Erection

Court was held once more out in the far-flung but welcoming kingdom of the Penners, those Heroes of Ipplepen.

 

Dread Draco continued to terrorize and the checklist of edicts grows. But where there's a will, there is Shirley a way and the Penners' Party would not be thwarted.

 

Great were the preparations that had taken place to engineer the evening's entertainment and every last detail of the operation had been duly scrutinized by Captain W Johnny to ensure smooth sailing. Why, even a batch of Forrest's finest flour concoction* had been imported, complete with deluxe packaging.**

 

Thus was the stage set and merely the players required to put the play in motion, Oh Dearly Get your Popcorn and Take Your Seats...

 

THE PLAYERS

Even more tricky than usual as the Bird brain was not concentrating on the task Shirley. But never mind, arm-ed with a prompt vid clip from Beefy, the roll herewith with advance apologies to any omitted:

GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Georgy, Teapot - yes, back again, SatNav, 3Sum, Beefy, BroadS, Fukarwi, SM Ellie, Popeye, Wigwam, Gaga4It, Forrest 'n' Muttley but no Wood Lend - studying, Penners five: Wet Johnny, Erection, Ravi, Roxanne and young Harry, Manpig, BB, Big End and NED, Well Hopped, Coldtits, Archangel - on time, I-Poo'd, T Humper, Getting Wet, Jane, Screwed, Strap-On - gotcha this week and flying FRB Artful Dogger.

 

A grey day, full of foreboding and I must shamefully admit that I even considered giving it a miss, Oh Shirley sacrilege.

 

Forrest and the Bird were first to arrive and shortly after, Captain Johnny appeared, having just finished the trail.

 

Shadowy figures emerged from their chariots and a bewildering array of head torches strobed the autumn evening air. Ahh, the thrill of the impending trail and the accompanying adrenaline rush, it's Shirley showtime hashers!

 

Captain Johnny briefed his cohorts and confidence was high. Two long short splits, a walkabout roundabout a mile and a half, a short of maybe three baby and the main dish, the lordly long, estimated at just short of six miles.

 

And that was that - and with a battle cry of 'Vamanos muchachos, vaya con dios', what a glorious sight the covid adjusted cavalcade made as they precipitated out into the Ipplepen bocage.

 

They made all of seventy five yards before the first 'make your minds up' check. Fukarwi thought he was on a winner and headed for the village (never to be sighted again) though the snorting cavalry pawed the ground impatiently, awaiting news from the other scouts.

 

ON ON was called straight on towards the main road, but whoa! your steeds as another check halted the impending charge yet again, merely a hundred yards up yon lane.

 

The Bird thought he had seen this game before and veered sharply to port up a narrow track. There were unfortunately two factors that conspired against the road running loony tune - a palpably inadequate head torch and an inability to see beyond two feet...sigh

 

With a drumming of petulant hooves they waited back at the check as the returning Idiot announced: 'Nothing up here, nary a blob...' Along came hare Erection to witness the debacle. Not a word did he utter, but merely pointed solemnly up whence the Bird had come...Oh dear, whatamistakatomaka..

Harsh words were uttered (by the Bird) and various jocular insults cast and, finally, the hash was underway, Oh Dearly Hash Hiatus.

 

Spearheading the action, Archangel led the pack north towards Abbotskerswell. Overtaking in the confines of a three foot wide muddy path was problematic, though hashers were hardly dawdling, were you Strap-On and BroadS? It was quite hectic early stages as excited hash hounds dashed back and forth and Forrest very nimbly hurdled one such hound - could have been nasty..

 

The A381 was timely as the FRBs - Artful, Beefy, Big End and Ned - were just getting a head of steam up and were about to slip the field.

 

Beefy admitted playing the noughts and crosses game and impressive were his first few checks: O X O X O X which resulted in him travelling a good half mile farther than the majority of longs.

 

The last of Beefy's hat trick of X's was at the Two Mile Oak and even the Bird thought he was good to go until the head torch wavered and return-ed.

 

Popeye and Well Hopped had been on a good run of checks but Popeye finally chose a wrong 'un and the pack shredded apart. Ultimately, there were four hashers and the red l.e.d collared Ned left at the head of proceedings.

 

Adequate seemed the Bird light until Big End's searchlight strength beam made it seem as luminous as a hospital ward night light. Big End said what the Bird had been thinking: 'You're going to need a better head torch!'

 

But never mind, the virgin trail, hitherto unseen and untrodden, alluringly beckoned the twelve legged party onwards until Artful paused with a turbo assist problem.

 

On and on through plantation and copse, highway, lane and track coursed the three hashers with red l.e.d Ned showing them how it was to be done.

 

Turning for home up Moor road and a chance to singalong with me:

 

𝑾𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒖𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒏*** 𝒐𝒇 𝑮𝒐𝒅

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒅

𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎, 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈

𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒆

𝑾𝒆'𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒃

𝑾𝒆'𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒋𝒐𝒊𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒌 '𝒏' 𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒅

𝑾𝒆'𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒑 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅

𝑾𝒆'𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒏' 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒔 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆

𝑾𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒖𝒔𝒕

𝑾𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒏

𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒆'𝒗𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒔

𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒃 𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏..

No? You're very hard to please out there.

 

Archangel and Screwed teamed up to get round the pretty testing long with an extra bit tagged on to collect recovering from injury Bella for the final stages of the trail.

 

BroadS finished with arms raised aloft in triumph but with puzzling news of Manpig. They had run together for part of the long but had somehow been separated at some point - as for Fukarwi, he also strangely disappeared into the Twilight Zone of lost hashers.

.

I could not stay to enjoy the footie club hospitality or even a beer or two, but am assured that a great time was had by all individuals who dropped by post hash.

Many thanks WJ and Erection for an exacting and well-marked trail. Glad I made it!

 

POSTSCRIPT

Just outside the club entrance, as I was driving back, SM Ellie appeared. She had run the long (as expected) and though on her Trail of the Lonesome Pine, she was a happy hasher and had her own adventure out there.

 

*Sawdust you fools

**Forrest's battered and torn rucksack

***Coldtits and Gaga4It of course

 

𝗢𝗡 𝗢𝗡 always in hope to next Monday 12th October from Lawns End Park, Bishopsteignton, Teignmouth TQ14 9PJ with hare Coldtits. Details to follow.

MONDAY'S DETAILS

Run #1847 Monday 5th October 7:15 pm from Ipplepen FC with hares Wet Johnny and Erection. If approaching from Newton Abbot, take the turning right by the garage (on your left) off the A381. Please indicate below if you intend going.

𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗 𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗘𝗙𝗨𝗟𝗟𝗬: After the hash ends on Monday night in the car Park of Ipplepen Football Club, the Clubhouse will be open, so if any individuals would like to have a drink and support the club they will be very welcome. Seating will be arranged outside on the patio, observing the current rules.

Bottles and cans of lager, ale and cider are £2.50, and cans of soft drinks £1.00. Cheesy chips will also be available to order for £2.00. All proceeds on the night go towards supporting the footie club.

Card payments preferred but cash will be accepted!

In order to comply with the current regulations please observe the following:

Face coverings must be worn on entrance to the club house. These may be removed when seated, eating or drinking. They must be re-applied when using the toilets, and when leaving the clubhouse. Please follow the one-way system in place. Table service only in the clubhouse. Please follow the ‘Rule-of-six’ at all times. Before arrival please ensure you have downloaded the NHS track and trace app (NHS Covid-19) to your phone, as you will be asked to check in via an official NHS QR code on entering. If you are unable to do so, Thank you, We