TVH3 The Words for 3rd April 2023

To Hel(tor) and Back

The Bridford Inn & AGPU

 

Run. No. 1963

 

HARES: Forrest Stump & Wood-Lend

 

 

 

Who wuz there: Forrest Stump, Wood-Lend, Wood Lend's friend (very fast), Man-Pig, Shitfaced, Soapy, Melonpicker, Palmolive, Beefy, Pisswell, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Checkmate, Big End, Triple Jump, Pork Torpedo, Horny, Ablesemen, Triple-Jump, Cheerio Beerio, Threesum, Beeflicker, Slip-on-Me, Ernie, Strap-On, Strap-Dancer & Arkangel.

 

CIRCLE

We arrived, early, only to find that the car park was already almost full......but not with many cars that I recognised. In no time at all, the car park started to clear. It transpired that The Bridford Inn is the only takeaway for a ten mile radius and it is proving surprisingly popular.

Eventually, everyone got parked, though it took some people several attempts before they got a spot that was large enough to be able to open their doors and get out. More about that later.

The main topic of conversation in the Circle centred around food i.e. who had ordered what flavour pizza? Finally, Forrest-Stump delivered on what he had threatened last week i.e. a long trail, "It'll keep the AGPU brief".

 

TRAIL

An eight mile Long. Where on earth were we going? More importantly, who was going to do it? All of our usual FRB's were either missing or injured. No Warm Front, Psycho or Wet Johnny, and Beefy is still recovering from a sprained ankle. Still, last week's trail setter, Beeflicker, was in attendance. Would he take the FRB crown? Yes, as it turned out.

An early Long/Short split just to the left of the Church, and that would be the last time that the Long's saw any of the Shorts for the next hour and a half. The Longs went left and through the newish, and partially duckboarded, woodland path. The Shorts' and Walkers' continued up the footpath that runs along the left hand side of the churchyard.

 

The Longs' exited the woodland walk along a fenced footpath at the edge off a field before arriving at an arrow on tarmac. A right immediately followed by a left had us heading northwest towards Heltor View.

 

Beeflicker was well ahead followed by Woodland and friend with Man-Pig fourth. In the far distance, we could see Heltor avec a Hasher atop its summit. This proved to be Shitfaced. No, he is not a reknowned FRB. Therefore, "How so?", you ask. Simples. He had shortcutted by means of the internal combustion engine and drove himself up to Heltor.

 

But where where the Shorts and the Walkers? In front, surely? No. By the time we arrived at the view point at Heltor Rock, the only Hashers present were Shitfaced, Wood-Lend & friend, Beeflicker, Man-Pig and Big End. 

 

Retracing our steps on the way back from the view point we did bump into Horny, Pork Torpedo, Melon Picker and Palmolive. I assume that they were on the Shorts but no-one else was within sight.

 

The view point completed, the next 5 or 6 miles would be a game of Big End and Man-Pig playing catch up with Wood-Lend and friend who, in turn, were playing catch up with Beeflicker. Indeed, we caught up with Beeflicker on several occasions as he must have got every check wrong! Wood-Lend had laid the trail so Big End and I decided that staying behind him would be a wise move - assuming, of course, that we could keep up with him; which we frequently could not.

 

The first check past Heltor was at Plaston Green. Beeflicker had already found a second check not 200 yards distant. He carried on checking along the lane that is the direct route to the Blackingstone Rock. Big End checked out what looked like a well worn, but unmarked, footpath along the edge of some woodland whilst Wood-Lend hopped over a gate and into a field. The cunning (read lazy) Pig followed. This was obviously private land. However, Forrest had mentioned something about permission to cut across private land so this had to be it. And so it proved to be. 

 

The trail ran parallel with the path that Big End was on but he was on the wrong side of a hedge. He had to double back and catch us up. He should have pushed on as his track rejoined the trail only 150 yards further along.

 

The trail left the field and then followed a track past Carrapitt and Little Hay Farm. At Laployd Barton, the track joined a lane and the trail took us right and towards the Blackingstone Rock.

Before arriving at the Rock, we all ground to a halt at a peculiar mark. We had a choice of Long and Shorts to the left and through pine woods or XL? Surely an X is a false trail murmured the Pig. "No", said Wood-Lend who went on to explain the XL stood for "Extra Long". For some unknown reason, all faces turned towards Man-Pig....questioningly.

 

It was 8 o'clock. About half an hour's daylight left, if we weren't under the cover of trees. It was so, so tempting to take the shorter route. "Extra Long", I said. Oh why, oh why did I say that? Big End raised his eyebrows and Beeflicker smiled.

 

"Does the trail bear left at the top of that yonder ridge?" I enquired.

"Maybe?" was Woodlend's guarded response.

 

And so it was that the Famous Five (Foolish Five more like) embarked on the uphill climb towards Blackingstone. Once at the Rock, it was the obligatory climb to the top, a quick photo, and then down those precariously steep stone steps. Thank goodness for the handrail. 

 

The trail now stayed on road and a fairly level run past a microwave transmitter for mobile phones and then left and downhill. At it's lowest point, there was another Long/Short split at the northern end of Kennick Reservoir. Wood-Lend said that both routes were about the same. Again, we went Long.

 

The trail followed the eastern bank of the reservoir until we arrived at a check. Nothing kicked out so I doubt if the Shorts had come this way. The trail went left and uphill and into the Laployd Plantation proper. With tree cover above us, it was now torch time. Another check at a T-junction on the woodland path. This time it was the right-hand fork that we followed past Hollowpark Rock and, after 700 yards, another check. This one was a left.

 

We were now on the fenced footpath that is plagued with roots and stones. Mind your footing or you will turn your ankle. The footpath took us down towards Hole and Little Tor Farm.

At the junction at Rookery Brook, we joined up with the Shorts' trail and encountered the "On Home" sign. Indeed, only 200 yards before the pub we caught up with Slip-on-Me, Melon Picker, Soapy and Palmolive.

 

A quick check of my elderly, and consistently under-reading, Garmin revealed 17 miles. 17 miles! Some halfwit hadn't reset it from Saturday's A2B.

 

Thank you Forrest and Wood Lend. Beeflicker, Big End and the Pig enjoyed the jaunt. But were there others on the Long also? Back in the pub, there was no sign of Beefy or Pisswell. In addition, the bar staff were looking for the owner of a prawn pizza. This turned out to be Strap-On who was also missing, together with Strap-Dancer. Nevertheless, in almost no time at all the MIA's all appeared - unscathed. Phew.

 

DOWN-DOWNS

Forrest was RA for the evening. He commenced by thanking the pub for the beer."Hoorah!". He then asked what we all thought of the trail. The usual moans, groans and lies. namely, "Too flat and too short".

 

Over to the Awards. There was no-one present who actually had an award to give away. However, Smellie had given two out of three of her awards to Piltdown man to bring to the Hash. Three awards! What on earth has she been up to? We're only just into the new hashing year and she's already laid down the gauntlet for others to challenge her attempt on this year's Pillock of the Year award. Also, where was the third award - the Pillock Shirt? In Prague on its holidays apparently.

 

With no awardees to dish the dirt, it was sneak time. Triple-Jump was the first to dob someone in. A story of someone getting a wet backside sliding down the foothills of Heltor. Who was the culprit? Slip-on-Me. She was awarded the Turkish wedding hat. A note for the "wet bottom" as Forrest couldn't quite get the word "extricate" out of his mouth.

 

The next whistleblower was Beeficker. He dobbed in the absent minded driver who merrily went down a road that's been closed for ten years only to find himself driving around the WBB claypits. The Songmeister decided that "Why was he born so beautiful...." was appropriate for the absent minded Man-Pig who has now been re-united with the Bacardi Hat.

 

Two halves of beer left. Were there any more stories? Yes. Forrest had one. All had observed Pork Torpedo's heroic efforts to get his huge van into a tiny parking space. This was a brilliant piece of parking. However, there was a fly in the ointment. He hadn't got enough clearance to get himself out on one side nor Horny on the other side. Spying an exiting pizza collector, after some several hundred full lock left and rights, he managed to get into an even smaller space!

Now Pork Torpedo was just about to take his punishment when Palmolive piped up, "You've got to hear this". It was Palmolive's ring tone; a recording of a quite tuneful Pork Torpedo reciting "Hold it in your hand Mrs Murphy". Absolutely brilliant.

 

Now, there was a Hasher who, by rights, should have got a Down-Down but he was very quiet. He had been very late in getting to the pub and so he had to do the trail on his own. Why was he so late? Had he read last week's Words and taken them literally and gone to Bradford? Nearly. He pitched up at the Cridford Inn. "It must be the right pub. Just look at all those Hashers - Big Foot, Shorty etc".........errr....wrong Hash. Arkangel has turned up at Haldon hash by mistake. Hmmmmm!

 

AGPU

Despite Shitfaced's attempts to bring some decorum to the proceedings the AGPU was the usual chaos. Threesum provided hard copies of the accounts that no-one looked at. Any existing committee member that wasn't present was unanimously re-elected. Any existing committee member that was present was also re-elected whether they wanted to be or not.

The only exception was a replacement dictated by technology or, rather, the lack thereof. Wet-Johnny is the On-Sex, or is it Social Sex? Never mind. The position can only really work if you have access to Facebook and the TVH3 Facebook page in particular. Apparently, Wet-Johnny is not on FB. Slip-on-Me very kindly volunteered to take up the position. Her first task? To write The Words for the evening's run. Her first reaction - point blank refusal. You, Madame, are an ideal candidate for Mismanagement. The role is yours.

 

NEXT WEEK

Next week's Hash is at The Highweek Inn, Highweek, Newton Abbot. Our Hares for the evening are Ernie and Strap-On. Will they actually leave the Highweek Inn during the trail or has their trail from The Court Farm set a precedent? We shall soon find out.

 

On-On to next week.

TVH3 The Words for 27th March 2023

Almost daylight trail from The Star Inn, Liverton

 

Run No. 1962

 

HARES: Beeflicker and Slip-on-Me

 

by Man-Pig & BB

 

Who wuz there: Beeflicker, Slip-on-Me, Bluebird, Man-Pig, Shitfaced, Soapy, Melonpicker, Palmolive, Beefy, Pisswell, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Coldtits, Big End, Well Hopped, Ned, U-Bend, Wet-Johnny, Manopause, Erection, Triple Jump, Broken man, Fallen Woman, Zoot, Hotlips, Strap-on, Forrest Stump, Wood Lend, Ernie, Arkangel & visitor Wife Beater from Cambridge Hash.

 

CIRCLE

A fairly brief Circle. Smellie announced that she was OK for hares up to 12th June - hoorah. Shitfaced welcomed our sole visitor - Wife Beater from Cambridge Hash. 

 

Forrest advised that next week's AGPU hash would be from a different venue; it was now going to be set from the Bridford Inn. Pizzas can be ordered on the night - but not too late.

Finally, Man-Pig was looking for the owner of lost property. A head torch had been found in the FBI last week. The usual suspects, Smellie and Coldtits were found innocent this week as the guilty party was this week's Hare - Beeflicker. It was then Beeflicker's turn to explain the trail; Walkers' 4 miles; Shorts' 5 miles; Longs' about 6.5 miles but take the first walkers' trail if you'd like it a bit shorter.

 

TRAIL FOR THE LONGS

Daylight! What a pleasant change to start the trail in daylight and relative warmth. What would the hares have in store for us with Beeflicker on only his second TVH3 lay? A jolly long and jolly excellent trail. That's what! And well marked too!

 

Left out of the pub car park and a check at the first junction after only 25 yards. Most went straight ahead but the trail actually beared left and into a housing estate. Big End led the pack followed by Man-Pig and visitor, Wife Beater (who is originally from Bickleigh so he knows the area).

 

The second check had the Pig on trail and heading down a cul-de-sac that ended with a footpath and then an arrow to the right and another check. This took us along a fenced in footpath across two fields and towards Old Liverton and the Walkers and Long/Short split.

The Longs went through a small new estate in Old Liverton and past a renovated pottery kiln. We then traversed across the main road between Ilsington and Liverton and then took a short loop back onto the main road.

 

Soon there was another check that took us into Rora Wood by Woodgate Cottages. Wet Johnny had incorrectly checked on road towards Ilsington whilst local knowledge visitor, Wife Beater, found the only Long/Short split now that we had already parted company with the Walkers. The Shorts went left and towards Penn Wood. The Long went right , following the footpath that skirts the northern periphery of Rora Wood.

 

The footpath looked strangely familiar. By the time we came to our fourth check, with the trail crossing a small stream (but not so small that you could keep your feet dry), the penny dropped. This was part of a trail that Wigwam and Bobbiball had laid about 8 or 9 years ago from the Carpenter's Arms. But we were doing it in reverse.

 

The trail now took us out of Rora Wood and onto open pasture and a steep climb. In front of me was Wet-Johnny. Behind me was Wife-Beater (who had checked out in the wrong direction), Wood Lend, Big End and Well Hopped. Ernie and Pisswell would be on the Long too but they were well out of sight.

 

At the top of the hill, we came to a new five-bar gate with peculiar steps built into its structure to encourage walkers to get their leg-over. A long and relatively level wide track towards Lower Lounstone ensued. It wasn't long before Wife Beater, Wood-Lend and Beeflicker overtook me.

 

At the end of the track, we rejoined tarmac and encountered another check. Wet Johnny had checked out the wrong way and I caught up with FRB's, Wood-Lend and Wife Beater at a five way junction at Great Lounston.

 

Both FRB's had checked out false trails so it was southeast on the lane towards Bethelcombe Cross (Bethelcombe Cross was part of Bobbiball's trail from 4 years ago. You may recall it as we started on a firing range. It absolutely bucketed down throughout the entire hash but, famously, this didn't prevent Bobbiball from providing freshly cooked bacon sandwiches).

The trail continued past Bethelcombe Cross, and then an arrow had us divert onto Ramshorn Down. We have been here a few times with Wigwam over the years.

 

At its peak, the views are spectacular (when it's daylight). It was quite tipsy now and time to put on our torches. There is a stone circle at the highest point. however, I don't recall ever having noticed that before...and for good reason. It is almost brand new. In the pub afterwards, one of Forrest's friends told me that it had only been build in 2020. Ah. So I wasn't losing my memory after all!

 

We hadn't seen Wood-Lend or Wife Beater since great Lounston. It was just myself, Wet-Johnny and Beeflicker atop Ramshorn Down. The trail took us down and then left on a long footpath just below the eastern edge of Rora Down. This too had been part of a previous Bobbiball trail.

 

The trail then started a steep descent towards Rora House. We were still high though. In the distance, I could make out the lights to the car park of the Welcome Stranger.

 

Wet-Jonny and Beeflicker were beginning to pull away so the last mile or so of the trail would be spent on my own. Entering Rora Wood, the trail went right and eastwards along its southern edge. Then surprisingly, an arrow had the trail change direction to take a sharp right and uphill into Penn Wood. 

 

The trail appeared to be going in a circle, and now that I am looking at an OS map, I see it was. About half way around the circle, another arrow had the trail almost come back on itself as it now changed to a far narrower path and a steepish descent to the lane-cum-track below Rora House.

 

Here I caught up with Coldtits. I bade her farewell as I pressed on. At the end of the poorly tarmac'd lane we came to a junction with a proper tarmac lane - and a chalk arrow. The trail was straight across and along a very muddy and slippery footpath. Almost zero traction and then.......errrrrg....total zero traction. I was well covered in mud. Fortunately, this footpath runs next to a brook so I gave myself a good wash off just before the footpath ended.

 

Back on tarmac, I could see wet footprints in front of me. Hmmmm. I wonder if I was the only one to take a fall on that section of trail. Someone else had definitely been paddling in the brook.

 

The footpath ended near Halford and an arrow had us go right and then immediately left and back towards Liverton where we rejoined the outward trail. I think this may have confused a few hashers but all made it back into the vey welcoming Star Inn.

 

All the Longs in the pub agreed that it had been a fantastic trail. Very well laid and well worth the nigh on 7 miles. Well done Beeflicker and Slip-on-Me.

 

AN ASPIRING THESPIAN & DONALD WHERE'S YOUR TROOSERS

I was not expecting to be able to go far, still plagued with a knee injury since that fateful hash of 23rd January.

 

A McWot style hash trail direct to the bar seemed to be odds-on favourite which would explain why I had not bothered to change into any trail apparel. In retrospect, whatamistakatomaka!

Fellow injury sufferer Beefy, hiking boots attired, was going for the projected four mile short, so what the heck, I would avago myself.

 

Last out of the car park along with the GM, we set off on our excursion - mini for Beefy but a major trip for the already limping Bird.

 

It was quite a fun trail out on the tarmac until veering hard a port into the boondocks and encountering dreaded mud, mud, not so glorious mud. 

 

Shrieks of rage emitted from the Birdbrain's beak as he tried to preserve his bright yellow £124 Hokas from the liquid evil.

 

'Is that all you've got!' trilled the self-psyching flightless one as he managed, with great difficulty, to overtake the dainty-stepping Fallen Woman.

 

'Your'e making a lot of noise!' observed a patient Fallen Woman as the betrewsed one fluttered by.

 

Fifty yards ahead, Ernie and Strap-On were having a nice little natter until being rudely interrupted as the still muttering Bird slipped between them.

 

Terra tarmac resumed, Soapy and Palmolive were overhauled and the open road beckoned. Faint cries were heard from behind. 'Bluebird, Bluebird, .....BLUEBELL!' A 180 degree turn did the injured knee no good at all. 'What is it?' 'Check back.' Long sigh....

 

The hares had been as cunning as a bag of weasels as suddenly, the walkers appeared from the left.

 

Exiting the village limits of Liverton, the true adventure began oh Dearly Are You Still there...

The L/S split and trail buddies Ernie and Strap-On bade each other a tearful farewell as Ernie decided to risk it and go as a biscuit whilst Strap-On opted for the safety first short.

 

I've just come down
From the Isle of Skye
I'm not very big and I'm awful shy
And the lassies shout when I go by
Donald, where's your troosers?

 

Pursuit of Soapy and Palmolive proved futile as they continued running up the woodland path and the pain was becoming annoying. There was nothing for it but to take my trews off and apply the neoprene support. Only Strap-On witnessed the operation, and he would keep mum about it in the pub. Good boy S-O, you know it makes sense.

 

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw U Bend

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

 

No? Well please yourselves then.

 

I gave him a quick burst of Whip Jamboree on my banjo as I continued on my merry way.

A sly attempted short-cut didn't work out as well as I hoped, and I had to be called back on trail by Beefy who was walking faster than my shuffle.

 

As we turned for home, Beefy spun me a tale of an aspiring thespian from deep in the Teign Valley. Apparently, Forrest, he of Panto fame, has been getting rave reviews for his acting talent. His latest being a production, for adults only, where he plays several characters in a play. Hurray!

 

It became a little congested on trail as Smellie and then U Bend hove into view, and then the first of the longs, Wood Lend, mit Muttley, swept past.

 

That last muddy lane was a corker. Man-Pig confessed to coming down, and the skid marks bore testimony to many a slide. The Bird slithered on landing and impaled himself on the barbed wire fence bordering the death hazard.

 

Finally, the Star's welcoming lights were passed, and it was time for a well-earned pint. All three disciplines of long, short, and walkers certainly got their money's worth. 

 

Well done Beeflicker and, for tonight's trail, the aptly named Slip on Me!

 

DOWN-DOWNS

Licensee James generously provided four halves of ale and a half pint of water for the Down-Downs. Thank'ee kindly, landlord.

 

The first award was the Turkish wedding hat from former recipient, U Bend. This he could have given to a number of candidates. 

 

There then unravelled the story of an alluring Harriet attempting to get Broken Man's attention by performing some sort of a courtship dance in front of him. I don't know what Fallen Woman would have though of all this. Additionally I don't know if this was a jig, a twist or a twirl. U-Bend identified Smellie as the guilty party and grabbed her just as she was on the way to the ladies! A note for "the twizzler".

 

Next up was Bluebird with the Jester's hat. Bluebird had been quizzing our visitor as to how he had got his name (apparently because his wife had always been faster than him but, one day, he actually beat her). Additionally, Bluebird wanted to know all about the Cambridge Hash.

"We always run from the same pub", said our guest.

 

"What?"

"Yes. And we never get bored. It's always a different trail. I know all the back passages!"

 

I'm sure you do. A note for the "Hershey Highway".

 

Man-Pig thought that he had the Hashshit shirt from last week but, upon closer inspection, it turned out to be the Pillock shirt. The Pig also held a collection of lost property. Beeflicker got his head torch back, and then the Pig began his search for a Harriet....a very special Harriet as this particular Harriet has three hands.

 

Man-Pig has collected three, non-matching, small black nylon gloves. "Who is the three handed harriet". A show of hands revealed Georgy Porgy to have an additional hand. Useful for all the housework no doubt. However, neither were worthy recipients. Had anyone else forgotten something this week? Blank faces all round. "Has anyone forgotten to bring their award from last week?". A sheepish Smellie had forgotten the Bacardi Hat. In fact, she seemed to have forgotten that she'd got a half pint to down as well. A note for "the amnesiac".

 

Finally, a half of beer and water for each of the Hares for an absolutely fantastic trail. Very good indeed.

 

Thanks to James at the Star Inn for providing the Down-Downs and making us most welcome.

 

NEXT WEEK

Next week's Hash is at The Bridford Inn. It is also the AGPU. Despite the occasion, the Hare, Forrest-Stump, is threatening a long one just to make the AGPU as brief as possible.

 

Now it's goodbye from us for now and

On-On to next week!

ANNUAL (almost) FIRE HASH TRAIL

On-Down at The Ferry Boat Inn, Shaldon

 

Run No. 1961

 

FIRE HARES: Bluebird & Man-Pig 

 

kindly assisted by Shitfaced & Beefy

 

Who wuz there: Bluebird, Man-Pig, Shitfaced, Soapy, Beeflicker, Slip-on-Me, Ablesemen, Beefy, Pisswell, AA, a very fast young man (didn't see him in the pub afterwards - who was he?), Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Coldtits, Big End, Well Hopped, Ned, Polyfella, Broadshit, U-Bend, Wet-Johnny, Manopause, Erection, Piddler, Warmfront, Psycho, two virgins brought by Pisswell & AA plus our very special guest of honour - Doris!

 

FIRE TRAIL by Man-Pig

You were promised a baptism of fire. Would it turn out to be a damp squib? Despite an unscheduled downpour just before the trail, initial plans sounded plausible. Traditional marks would be scarce as the essence of the trail was to follow the flames. Now that it had stopped raining, might it just work?

 

GM Shitfaced would light the first flare beside the third green. Beefy would follow the trail and collect the bamboo staves whilst the mini menagerie hares ran ahead setting the trail in fire.

 

Initially, all went according to plan. From our hilltop vantage point we could clearly see the first flare.This was followed by a snake of torchlight moving slowly towards us way down below or - not so slowly as it turned out. Time to light the second flare. This went well until a gust of wind blew it over. Four lost minutes trying to re-erect it for our now blind pack. Re-erected, hotfoot it to the next flare. Oh no! The Bird had lost his phone.

 

Another two minutes lost retracing our steps only to find that it was in the Bird's pocket all the time. The delay meant that the FRB's comprising Beeflicker, Warmfront, Psycho, Wet-Johnny and Broadshit were upon us before we'd even got it lit.

 

A Long/Short split had the Longs going downhill whilst a handful of shorts ending up chasing the Hares towards Labrador Bay car park.

 

The Pig proceeded just past the car park and managed to get his flare lit just before the arrival of the FRB's. FRB's? They had planned to follow a long loop on the lower coastal footpath. A schoolboy error by the Hares meant that we had forgotten to mark a Long/Short split for the Longs' to do the lower loop. This was compounded by the Bird who chose to light his flare below a convex escarpment. The net result was that the Longs' didn't see it and missed out on the loop.

 

However, by the time the Shorts' had arrived, the Bird's flare was well away and a just discernible glow had the Shorts' on the Longs' trail and vice versa. You could not have made this up.

 

The balance of the trail was designed to be flameless and normal marks were resumed. Bluebird had set a loop down Deane Lane towards Stokeinteignhead and then back up Millen Lane. This had been laid in cat litter. The balance of the trail was simple but had yet to be laid. That is why a perplexed pack saw the Pig running towards them with a bag of flour shouting "Keep going!"

 

The final part of the return trail was a live lay as the Pig laid the trail from the junction of Millen lane with Butterfly Lane and back to the Ness car park. With the speed of Beeflicker, Warmfront, Psycho and the anonymous young man, it was a job to stay in front and out of sight....only just made it back into the Ness car park about three minutes ahead of them.

 

You could have done no more, MP. And now, the author of the doomed undertaking presents his testimony to the jury.

 

GOODNESS GRACIOUS GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!

by BB

 

The Fire Hares were in position and all fired-up as they scanned the vista of shimmering lights from high above Shaldon and Teignmouth.

 

It had been planned meticulously, on the scale of a vital military operation. Fire chain points had been identified; timing logistics had been memorized; flares had been tested; equipment checked and rechecked - nothing, seemingly, had been left to chance. 

 

Operation Great Balls of Fire Shirley could not go Pete Tong...

 

A tiny trail of head torches were spotted wending their way along the path through the golf course. Abruptly, and under instruction from the Grand Master, the lights were extinguished as the massed ranks of the entire hash, in total darkness, made their way to a spot beside the third green.

 

The flare was soaked in white spirit and ready to be inserted into the bamboo shaft.

A spot of orange flickered into life and became larger as the primary flare was ignited. 'We're on!' shouted Man-Pig and the answering flare was ignited. A succession of headtorches illuminated as the hash got underway.

 

The flare had ignited immediately and rapidly become a billowing rage of flame but, and it was an almighty but, on the exposed headland, a fierce gust lifted the flare from the shaft and blew it onto the ground! No-o-o-o!

 

A game of chopstick phooey ensued as the Bird tried to lift the blazing rag back into place between two bamboo sticks. It worked and the shell-shocked duo fled to the kissing gate on the main road en route for Labrador bends.

 

It got worse. The befuddled and badly-shaken Bird shouted 'I've dropped my phone!' and ran back to the flare. Man-Pig, sans white spirit propellant, had to pause. A full minute later, the witless twit discovered the phone in his back pocket and back he went to rejoin MP. Precious time had been lost and the domino-effect was underway.

 

It was now Shirley a case of out of the frying pan into the fire as the longs had made relentless progress up the slopes of Mt Doom and were closing fast with the hapless fire hares.

Barely had the third flare point been reached when headtorches appeared at the top of the path. It was Beeflicker who proclaimed he had brought some buddies along as a clearly agitated Bird struggled to ignite the third flare.

 

With the longs despatched down the lower cliff path, the fire hares made their way up the inland cutaway path to head them off at the summit. 

 

It was no good, the game was Shirley up and the aged and unfit (for purpose) Bird collapsed in a near lifeless heap to the sodden turf. 'Wait MP, come back!' gasped the expiring leader of the ill-fated expedition. 'I'll prime the flare and you go on.'

 

Undismayed at the catastrophic turn of events, Man-Pig valiantly set off to salvage the evening.

 

Lurching around the bend, an awful sight unfolded. The rampant longs, including Warmfront, Wet Johnny, Psycho, Beeflicker, BroadS and other assorted rapidoes were gathered, vulture-like around Man-Pig as he prepared to ignite number four flare.

 

Mindful of the strongly gusting wind, the flare was positioned by the hedge but, unfortunately not in the proposed line of sight point for number five flare immediately beside Labrador Bay car park.

 

Plans A, B and C had long since been scrapped, and the Bird, without pausing, plunged down the valley below the car park to get in position for number six flare.

 

A few minutes elapsed before the awful realization dawned. There was no direct line of sight from the bottom of the valley to see number five flare from the summit. Whatamistakatomaka!

Another trail of lights appeared on the skyline - the shorts! The by now delirious Bird, losing all semblance of reason, lit number six flare!

 

'To me! To me! On down!' screeched the demented One. The trail of lights halted, and then slowly descended towards the wildly waving, blazing apparition.

 

And so it came to pass that the shorts were sent onto the long trail and the longs, who had long departed [Shirley sic] proceeded gaily along the short trail.

 

As Man-Pig stated, 'You couldn't make it up.'

 

The Bird had now burned himself out. Staggering with bursting lungs up the steep valley and the haven of his tethered chariot, he slowly turned to watch the snail-like progress of the unfortunate shorts as they ascended the alpine turns of the lower path.

 

Fearing retribution, the Bird drove down to the Deane Road T- junction to find out whether any shorts required a lift up to Commons lane. Beefy advised that Coldtits was approaching and that all others seemed to have continued on the long trail down Deane Road.

 

Driving up Commons, the chariot faltered and stalled. Try as he might, first gear could not be engaged by an exasperated Bird and the occupants were on the point of getting out and giving it a push when first was finally crashed into place. The domino effect was still ongoing.

 

I don't know how he managed it, but Man-Pig, still obeying instructions - flawed or otherwise - to the letter, had managed to stay ahead of the longs and put the final arrows down Commons in place. Give that man a cheer and a beer! 

 

Manopause and Erection emerged from Better Flee lane (true name) and seemed oblivious to the calamity that had unfolded. It was with great relief that the Bird turned for home. I need a beer as well.

 

DOWN-DOWNS

Despite the hiccups, post run banter and chat in the pub seemed to confirm that Hashers had enjoyed the trail - even if the Longs and the Shorts had been inadvertently transposed.

 

Polyfella gave the Jester's hat to Bluebird for dropping his container of cheese sandwiches on the floor, retrieving same but only after Ned had been salivating over them....although Piltdown man said that he quite liked them (pre saliva!). A note for "Pavlov's Dog".

 

Bluebird had the Hashshit shirt. This he gave to Man-Pig. I think for being foolish enough to follow his instructions to the letter. "Hold it in your hand Mrs Murphy".

 

A new award, The Barcardi Hat. The origins of this hat was that it was won in a pub quiz for winning the special interest round. The nature of this special interest round? Postage stamps. The Hat and down-down went to Smellie even though she was totally innocent of encyclopedic knowledge of British regional postage stamps. A note for "the philatelist".

 

And finally, a down-down for our very special guest of honour, Doris.

 

Thanks to Piltdown Man and Georgie Porgy for bringing her out and, additionally, thanks to Max & owner Matt for providing the Down-Downs.

 

POSTSCRIPT

Almost everything that could go wrong did go wrong and it was only down to Man-Pig that the trail was salvaged. Valuable lessons have been learnt and next year, God willing, Man-Pig and I will show you how a Fire hash should be conducted. Thank you, one and all, for turning up and having a go. The virgins and the rest of the shorts must be congratulated at completing the long trail. On on to Fire Hash #10!

 

NEXT WEEK

Next week's Hash is at The Star, Liverton with Beeflicker Haring.

 

 

On-On to next week!

TVH3 The Words for 13th March 2023

The Park Inn, Kingskerswell

 

Run No. 1960

 

HARES: Cheerio Beerio & Shitfaced

 

Who wuz there: Cheerio Beerio, Shitfaced, Man-Pig, Bluebird, Arkangel, Threesum, Martin (pub only), Soapy, Melonpicker, Beeflicker, Slip-on-Me, Satnav, Ablesemen, Beefy, Pisswell, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Piddler, Coldtits, Big End, Well Hopped, Ned, Roger the Dodger, Triple Jump, Strap-On, Strap Dancer, Piddler, U-Bend, Only Here for the Beer (pub only) and visitors Dan (from Newcastle) and Reyna (from London) and finally, very late in the day, Floss (pub only).

 

Circle

An important announcement by Satnav. Teapot won't be running for a while as he's had a pacemaker fitted! We all wish Teapot every success with the operation and look forward to seeing him soon. Smellie is up to date with the Hare-raising and no-one wants to compete for next year's Scribe of the Year shirt so it was over to the Hares.

 

Shitfaced first announced scoff: sausage, beans and chips at circa £3.50 "hands up". The trail was going to be 6 for the Long (highly suspect), 3.5 for the Short and 2.5 for the Walkers' potter. Shitfaced mentioned that he was following Cheerio's instructions for the trail and Cheerio said that she wouldn't be sweeping.

 

Trail

The day's strong winds had receded and it was still quite warm; just a hint of drizzle in the air. The trail proved to be somewhat of an enigma. The Shorts appeared to be on the Longs. the Longs were off trail and everyone ended up coming together about three times - irrespective of what trail they were on.

 

The trail took us all through the ginnel opposite the pub and onto Park Road. Virtually all the pack took a right at at the first check only to be called back by Cheerio. The trail actually went left and onto Woodland Avenue before bearing right onto Coles lane and left down the Newton Road towards Aller quarry.

 

At the garage that sells camper vans, we came to the first split. The Walkers' trail stayed on road up to Coffinswell whilst the Longs and the Shorts took the track behind Romany Jones and ascended Yew Tree climb (well, that's what it's called on Strava) up to Milber Lane and a Long/Short split.

 

The Longs committed themselves to going towards Milber. A long way towards Milber with no sign of any marks. The Pig took the path up to the iron age fort and was convinced he'd spotted a single mark. It must have been bird poo but by this time we were at the edge of St Marychurch Road near the reservoirs. Additionally, all of the other Longs had caught up. This comprised the usual suspects of Beeflicker, Pisswell, Big End and well Hopped. Visitor Dan was also establishing himself as a FRB on his first ever hash. Strap-On and Smellie had also caught up despite believing they were on the Short trail.

 

There was nothing else for it. The best bet was to run up St Marychurch Road and take the first right down Blackenway Lane. This would join up with the Shorts at Milder lane which it did. Amazingly, we saw marks for the first time in over a mile!

 

We were now in Coffinswell, and it wasn't long before we came to another Long/Short split. The Longs took a narrow wooded track that opens onto open pasture in front of two newish post houses and then the footpath that takes you onto Connybeare Lane and back into Coffinswell. The Shorts beared right opposite the Linney and to the Walkers/Shorts split that would take the Walkers back into Kingskerswell by the primary school. A few yards further on and we encountered another Long/Short split. 

 

This short loop should have had the Longs coming back onto Willowpark Lane at its junction with Daccombe Mill Lane via the footpath that follows Aller Brook at The Bothy. However, what was coming marching towards me along the footpath? The Shorts! Despite being on the Longs, the Shorts enjoyed this part of the trail because they encountered a large number of toads!

 

The trail then climbed Daccombe Mill Lane and back into Kingskerswell just above the Lord Nelson pub. An arrow had all running down Southey Lane before returning to the pub via the main road into Torquay.

 

Down-Downs

Talk in the pub centred around the weekend's rugby (for those of who have an interest in the odd shaped ball). In particular, England's complete demolition by a hugely in form France.

Man-Pig took on MC duties for the evening and welcomed visitors Dan and Reyna. Additionally, we thanked the pub for the beer and the scoff.

 

"What did we think of the trail?" Moans and groans all round - par for the course.

Hashshit Shirt: After being plagued throughout the run by the Bird - even though he was always on the short trail and Soapy on the long, Soapy gave the shirt to the birdbrained one who delighted in exposing himself. The Harriets were not impressed. Despite his age, he is quite well-preserved. Accordingly, a note for the formaldehyde one.

 

Horned Hat: The best laid plans don't always go to plan. The Bird had espied his missing Viking horned hat on Triple Jump and had decided he wanted it back for a week or two.

He courted Triple Jump with a pre-trail tango and then bought her a lemon and lime fizzy water with a requested slice of lemon. He certainly knows how to give a lady a fine time! 

 

Triple Jump was won over but an almighty spanner was thrown in the works when Soapy - oblivious to the devious plan - awarded the Idiot with the hashit shirt! RA Man-Pig, unaware of the subterfuge, was baffled. However, the Bird wasn't going to get a second beer so it was a water for him, much to his chagrin.

 

Turkish wedding hat: Shitfaced gave this to U-Bend for getting quite excited about Bluebird's exposure. What did he do wrong? He kept both hands firmly in his pockets whilst smiling at the near naked bird. A note for the nut tickler, if you please.

 

The pub had been very generous with the Down-Downs, so there were plenty of drinks left for the Hares which included a Smirnoff Ice for Cheerio-Beerio.

 

One half pint left to award. There were no stories but someone has a birthday very close to Paddy's Day. All the right notes, not necessarily in the right order, for Arkangel whose birthday fell on Wednesday.

 

Next week

Next week's Hash is at The Ferry Boat inn, Shaldon, for, weather permitting, Bluebird and Man-Pig's "Fire Hash" or a derivation thereof. Circle up in the Ness car park.

 

On-On to next week.