TVH3 The Words for 12th June 2023

by Man-Pig

The Devon Arms, Teignmouth

 

Pirate Theme.....arrrh!

 

Run. No. 1973

 

HARES: Forrest Stump & Bluebird

 

 

I seen a peanut stand

Heard a rubber band

I seen a needle that winked its eye

But I be done seen 'bout evr'ything I think

When I see a pirate in pink!

 

Who wuz there: Forrest Stump, Bluebird, Shitfaced, Man-Pig, Arkangel, Beefy, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Coldtits, U-Bend, Beeflicker, Slip-on-Me, Big End, Ned, Well Hopped, Piddler, Wood Lend, Perry, Wet Johnny, Erection, Pork Torpedo, Horny, Rise'n' Shine, Mateus Rose, Wetfart, Teapot, Satnav, Broads, Polyfella, Triple Jump & virgin Sharon.

 

Circle

The single word word that can best describe this run is: Arrrrh! This must be pronounced both loudly and with a broad Bristolian accent for today we were all pirates! Well, not quite all. Most had made some sort of an effort to look piratesque; even if was just to sport a cutlass - Beefy.

 

Some Hashers either couldn't read or failed to make an effort. This included the Pig, the 'penners, Piddler, Well Hopped and Big End.

 

At the other end of the spectrum, Slip-on-Me was offering crystal ball gazing and was kind enough to offer me some of her charms to wear on trail which I unsportingly declined.

Horny was a fantastic pink pirate....was she representing the LBGT community? Beeficker's resplendant tattoos didn't require too much additional plumage to look just the part.

 

It did look as though we had a number of virgins joining us this evening. This was because just about everyone who walked past the pub looked distinctly pirate-like. Is this pirate week in Teignmouth? I know that Brixham has a pirate weekend which I think is during the spring bank holiday but I may be wrong.

 

As it turned out, we only had one virgin. Triple Jump had brought along a friend for her first ever Hash. Shitfaced invited her into the Circle.

 

"What is your name?"

"Sharon" So far so good.

"Who made you come?"

"Veronica!" Not so good.

 

Triple Jump turned around to reveal her Hash name on the reverse of her T-shirt whilst the relevant correction was uttered accompanied by a liberal dose of flour.

 

Over to the Hare, Cap'n Forrest Stump. He explained that some of the trail would be a live trail (Wood Lend, as it turned out) and that:

 

"Bluebird was out there somewhere. It won't be a long trail, Walkers' about 3, Longs' 5 and Shorts' somewhere in-between".

 

Most importantly, there was a "Grog stop!"

 

There were no announcements, or were there, as we commenced our D-day style assault on Backbeach? Just as we started to move off, Shitfaced asked Smellie about food.

 

"Oh shit! I'd forgotten".

 

Now, usually, The Devon Arms does not do food but we are welcome to bring in our own fare. However, today was different. Today we were going to be provided with a buffet at £5 a head. Now Smellie's sole task for the evening was to address the food issue.

 

"STOP! Hands up, who wants food."

 

The pack abruptly shiver me timbered to a stop and about-turned. About 13 or 14 put their hands up and Smellie conveyed this to the pub whilst the remobilised pack about-turned for the second time and embarked for Normandy.

 

The Trail

To those of you who have already been on the TVH3 Facebook page and seen the Strava routes, you will know that I jest not. Within 5 minutes of the "Off" we were afloat.

 

The cunningly secretive Cap'n had purloined the special boat services of the Shaldon Ferry to carry us across La Manche to engage our mortal enemy - the dreaded Ness Golfing Brigade.

 

The Landing craft ploughed into the sandy beach, bow door down as the assault commenced. Longs' and Shorts' left towards Juno and Gold beaches whilst the Shorts' bore right and across Sword beach to secure the Grog stop at the northern end of Shaldon Bridge. HA!

 

Initially, the advance went well, crossing a near deserted beach. The Hares had planned well. The Horrible Hun Ness Golfers had not expected a seaborne attack by a Hash that is usually permanently affixed to terra firma.

 

The euphoria of early progress almost ground to a halt at the tank traps. A series of rocky boulders, some covered with a deadly frictionless green material to further stymie our progress - cunning people these Ness Golfers.

 

Bewilderingly, our ace trail finder, Horny, guided the Longs' and Shorts' squadrons through the tank traps and onto Juno beach.

 

Such was the expertise of our No. 1 pathfinder, that even the three legged Arkangel made it through the stubborn obstacle without mishap. The only person missing was Pork Torpedo. PT was injured so he remained back at the Devon Arms - HQ for the evening's assault. PT's brief was simple. He was in charge of comms. All orders would be relayed to the bar for immediate despatch.

 

Back at Juno beach, an early reconnoitre by a spy, who goes by the name Bluebird, had located a secret tunnel that would take us to the very edge of enemy territory.

 

At the end of the tunnel, Captain Stump gave us our final orders. Longs' and Shorts' were to go left below the Ness. We would skirt around the edge of the Ness car park keeping cover under dense foliage. 

 

At the Long/Short split, the Longs would go south and high....very high. In fact to the very top but only after passing cryptic messages; "Nearly there" and "Not quite" as Sherpa Tensing-like we prosecuted our assault to Smugglers' Top. 

 

Once there, we would turn around again and descend through long grass to RV with the Shorts' at the SW corner of the Ness Golf course.

 

Meanwhile, the Shorts would conceal themselves as they short-cutted westwards along the souththern flank of the golf course before revealing their presence to the unwary Ness Golfers. Their clubs and their balls would Shirley be no match for our "Arrrrhs" & cardboard cutlasses. 

 

We could see them clearly, all uniformed Scout like. Ye gods on high, they looked young. It didn't seem sporting to run 'em through with cold steel (well, cold cardboard). Indeed, all it took were a few "Arrrhs" and "On-On's" before they were routed.

 

Job done it was time for clear up operations before replenishing our rations at the Shaldon bridgehead.

 

Mopping up operations comprised a comprehensive loop through the Ness Gardens - a favoured bolting point for a Golfer devoid of a club and his balls.

 

Exiting the Ness Gardens, it was on to Horse Lane and following a combination of flour and pink chalk marks back into Shaldon village. The pink chalk arrows were small. They needed to be because on earth paths they were marked on small flat stones.

 

The marks took us past the Ferry Boat Inn and the London Inn with a stretch of beach thrown in for good measure.

 

Bugger! Mopping up had taken longer than planned and I'd missed the deadline for the Grog RV. I had also lost contact with the rest of my squadron; last seeing Arkangel at the car park end of the secret tunnel. 

 

Never mind, push on across the Shaldon Bridge. Right and right again and onto the footpath that runs behind Teignmouth RFC's grounds and thence up and over the Orangery and then dropping down to cross over the pedestrian railway bridge and onto Quay Road.

 

Just before arriving back at HQ, I caught up with Hare cum Quartermaster Forrest-Stump. He was carrying the remnants from the Grog stop....perhaps it was A Bridge Too Far (1977) to ask if there was any left?

 

Down-Downs

Back at HQ, the "It ain't half hot Mum" concert troop had been usurped by a demon duet comprising a pirate and his mermaid daughter. Sea Shanties were the order of the day.

 

This would have been fine except that spy Bluebird knew all the words and had to join in.

 

Soon all hashers, runners and pirates alike, joined in the revelling. The routing of the Ness Golfers had gone remarkably well - especially considering the Hash regiment's history of failed operations.

 

A break in the proceedings allowed for scoff time and time for the Down Downs.

 

We thanked the pub for the beer and then the M-P (Military Police) took over to identify those deserving of court martial.

 

First up was spy Bluebird with a tale of treasonous magnitude. Big End would be AWOL next week as he was playing GOLF....cavorting with the enemy.....and a paid up member of Sanford Cricket Club to boot. Fortunately, we had our Songmeister with us so something to do with a malfunctioning Aladdin's lamp.

 

Next was not a charge but an award. Satnav stepped up to award the DCM (Do Come Mondays) to Horny for exemplary leadership skills in guiding Long & Short squadrons through the tank traps. 

 

The Songmeister proceeded onto part 2 of the Tale of Alladin's Lamp and how it came to be planted in the Sultan's favourite camel's backside!

 

Back on to charges. This time it was a charge of a serious map reading error. The guilty party was the inappropriately named Satnav. Details of the charge were read out in Court: "RV'd at the Kings Arms Kingsteignton and not the Devon Arms in Teignmouth". A ditty about Old McDonald and tourets.

 

The final half of Ale. By rights this should have gone to Forrest-Stump for an excellent trail including arranging our early nautical adventure. But Forerst was having none of it. He, appropriately, suggested that the award should go to the best dressed Pirate. 

 

Candidates were whittled down to two; Beeflicker and Horny - though the GM was slightly aggrieved at not even being nominated - with Horny declared the winner. 

 

Her pink pirate number looked quite fetching. Wholly inappropriately Pork Torpedo let rip with his ditty about the attractions of a young woman with barn doors and an ability to secrete barrels about their person. How touching!

 

Birdlogue

A most enjoyable day, what with the trail lay in the afternoon in glorious weather, and then the shanty singing in the Devon Arms later. 

 

I was determined to make sure the trail succeeded, parking in the Ness CP and checking all marks were in position a few minutes before the D-Day landing. 

 

Well done indeed, Forrest, a five star evening!

 

Next week

Next week's Hash is at The King Willam IV, Totnes with Hare Beeflicker.

 

On-On to next week.

THE MARK THAT NEVER WAS & CHALK IT UP TO EXPERIENCE

Run #1972 Monday 5th June from the Park Inn with Shitfaced and friends

 

Who wuz there: GM Shitfaced, Piltdown Man, Beefy, Coldtits, Smellie, Beeflicker, Slip on Me, Pork Torpedo, Hornie, BB, Wet Johnny, Erection, Strap-On, Strap Dancer, Forrest, Pollyfella, Miss Inn'. Pub only: Becycled Bobby and T Humper (darts stand-in for the GM).

 

Preamble

Depleted the circle Shirley was for various reasons. Pisswell was on her cycling Grand Tour of Ireland; Man-Pig was Greece bound; a few others were early summer breaking, and there was a niggling doubt whether some had gone to the Wolborough Inn - despite the updates on the FB and web page.

 

There was one other possible reason - hashers tend, like elephants, to remember unfortunate experiences. The most unfortunate one was the eleven mile long constructed by one of the Grand Master's 'friends' in the not that distant past. With Man-Pig away, there was only one other 'friend' left...

 

The lay

The long trail was commenced Sunday afternoon and had gone swelteringly well up the Hamelin Way until the way [sic as a parrot] was barred by an impenetrable hedge necessitating a backtrack across the fields to get back onto Edginswell Lane... sigh. There were enough old flour marks to open a bakery so chalk arrows would be utilized - clever these Chinese, almost fiendish.

 

I didn't know where I was half of the time, and I'd just been there.

 

It was hot and getting hotter by the time the Old Windmill was sighted, and then a nagging pain in the heel halted proceedings. A blood blister on the heel was the cause and the ref's whistle was blown. Limping heavily, the doom-ed hare proceeded down Moles Lane - scene of the exploding flour bag on a previous disaster.

 

The stage was set on Monday for Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events to unfold.

Cheerio Beerio plus her two mini helpers set out to lay the short trail. Cheerio knew the long was laid in chalk arrows and would follow them until veering off to lay her trail in flour. There was, however, a fatal flaw to the plan...

 

The same day, the Bird sallied forth in his chariot to complete the long. This was much more fun than slogging away on foot. An arrow placed at the top of Windmill Lane, drive round Whilborough Road to put another arrow in at the bottom and then into Compton Mill Lane. Drive round - you get the picture now. 

 

Tethered the chariot on Bickley Road beneath Kerswell Downs and muled the rest down to the carved seat above the Expressway. OH in place, legged it back down the road to collect the chariot. Home James and the job's a good 'un. Or so I thought...

 

The Grand Master coordinated the operation from the pub and, deludedly concluded that all was well. He put the last piece of the jigsaw in place with a walkers' loop and adjourned to the Park to await the pack. I awaited Cheerio as I wanted to know if she had put the L/S mark in but, unfortunately, Cheerio could not make the hash and I was left with a nagging doubt.

It was summer and the Bird's plumage was befitting the gay day, and suitably bedazzled were the bemused locals in the Park. Park 'n' Ride, thine host, was completely outshirted and readily ran up the white flag. No, don't stop me now, I'm in full flow..

 

Circle

Hashers arrived in dribs and drabs until fifteen forlorn and deeply suspicious souls reluctantly circled up to await their fate.

 

The Grand Master announced the upcoming menu for any survivors and then attempted to describe the main course - the trails, amid silence from the already subdued audience.

Their suspicions were not allayed when the Last of the Pillocks grandly announced that the long would be in chalk arrows - displayed upon various stones or fencing along the way.

 

Pork Torpedo was not impressed. 'What if the stones are turned round?'

 

Smellie was in two minds whether to go long or short. 'How far is it really?'

 

The last words from the hare were: 'Remember, the short is in flour but if you only see arrows, you are in Indian territory...'

 

The Grand Master waved the gallant little band on their way with encouraging words: 'Keep going on up through the village' before muttering 'they're all going to go wrong..' Prophetic words indeed.

 

The trail

Though desperate for a beer, the Bird put duty first and legged it down from Kerswell arch onto the Torquay road to head 'em off at the garage by the Hare and Hounds. On the corner were neat and clear flour marks signalling the L S and W. Excellent, Cheerio, safari so good.

However, the pack had come a right purler at the mini roundabout by Fluder and Southey. The FRB's had pushed on up Fluder whilst the shorts and walkers described ever decreasing circles, awaiting signs from above.

 

And that was the last I saw of the Ghost Hash, Oh Dearly They Should Have Known Better, and gleefully didst the Bird fly back to the bar for a pick me up or three.

 

An hour later, Beeflicker arrived, and he brought tidings of great joy. 'Great trail, arrows clear throughout!' Experienced FRB's Pollyfella and Wet Johnny were close behind and also reported no problemos muchachos.

 

Miss Inn' also got round but then the music died.

 

Two days later, Smellie staggered into the tent with five Apache arrows stuck in her back. Her final words were: 'Indian ambush, there were hundreds of them, we didn't stand a chance...'

 

A grim-faced Strap-On, complete with stetson neatly pierced from side to side with an arrow, strode, cowboy-style to the bar and laconically drawled: 'You effin' idiot BB!'

 

Pork Torpedo hadn't wanted to go long and neither had Hornie. They had faithfully followed the beguiling arrows until encountering Otter Nurseries, less than a mile from the Devon Dumpling - and then they got a bad feeling.

 

Fearing retribution, the Bird prostrated himself and begged: 'Mercy Percy!'

 

Strangely, the shorts, including Coldtits and Beefy, navigated the short trail of some three and a bit miles with no difficulty but could not be sure where the delineation of the two trails occurred. Oh well, I shall have to chalk it up to experience. No? Well please yourselves then.

 

The down-downs

The author of the disaster was immediately awarded a DD along with a voucher for 50 Pillock Points (redeemable at next year's Awards Night) for yet another fine mess.

 

After a bit of finger-waving, Smellie castigated the GM for changing the OD twice and the Jester's hat was foisted upon the joint hare.

 

In return, Shitfaced, who was clutching the Hashit Shirt, decided that a harriet who hadn't wanted to do the long - had, in fact, albeit unwillingly, dunnit. Step forward, Hornie, please.

A final DD went to Pork Torpedo, summoned by RA Forrest. His crime? Calling Forrest's chariot 'past it'. Well, it would be, seeing as the last owner was Boadicea! B' boom!

 

Birdlogue

My thanks go to Man-Pig for the long trail, for it was his expertise that was wholly responsible for its construction. As I said to Beeflicker, Pollyfella, WJ and Miss Inn', it was a very good trail which included the best bits of previous Man-Pig trails.

 

Thank you so much, Cheerio and girls, for laying the short trail on Monday. I was stretched and pretty tired by then and you have my gratitude for stepping in to help.

 

Lastly, my apologies for the missing L/S split which I was responsible for putting in. My only excuse is that I am a Pillock!

 

ON ON to next week when we will be at the Devon Arms, Teignmouth for a Forrest special. Details to follow.

TVH3 The Words for 29th May 2023

by Man-Pig

 

The Highweek Inn, Newton Abbot

 

Run. No. 1971

 

HARES: Ablesemen & Slip-On-Me

 

 

Who wuz there: Ablesemen, Slip-on-Me, Shitfaced, Man-Pig, Zoot, Hotlips, Smellie, Coldtits, U-Bend, Beeflicker, Bluebird, Bobbiball, Wetfart, Teapot, Satnav, Triple Jump, Broadshit, Scott, Pisswell, AA, Riff Raf and Screwed & Bella.

 

Circle

It was Ablesemen's birthday and, following AH3's and the Devon A2B tradition, Able had volunteered to lay the trail. But what else is 29th May famous for? Various guesses but none were correct.

 

 

Ablesemen gave us a little spiel about 29th May being known as Restoration Day or Oak Apple Day. This was to commemorate the restoration of the Stuart monarchy to the thrown after the end of Oliver Cromwell's term as Lord Protector over a notional republic. 

 

The term Oak Apple refers to the time when Charles 1st avoided capture by the Roundhead Army by hiding in an Oak tree. Hence why so may pubs are called The Royal Oak.

 

So, what happens on Apple Day. Well, you get a partner and get said partner to stand in front of you or behind you. The one behind then pinches the one in front's bottom...HARD! 

 

The history behind this is that, post restoration of the monarchy, pro royalists took to wearing an oak leaf as a sign of support for the monarchy. Anyone not wearing an oak leaf had their bottom pinched.

 

Ablesemen went on to confuse 328 years with 328 days, thereby maintaining that she was less than a year old! After a brief correction, a description of the trail. It was short. Longs' 3 miles; Shorts' 2 miles. Look out for Charles 1st hiding in a tree and there would be prizes and cakes back in the pub.

 

The Trail

Ablesemen directed us right out of the car park and right again through Highweek Village. Unsurprisingly, Beeflicker was FRB - no Beefy or Wet Johnny this week. An arrow had us turn left and down Coombeshead Road and then dead ahead and down a nicely mowed footpath towards the Ashburton Road (A383). Well, at least the top of the footpath was almost lawn like.

 

However, it wasn't long before we hit stinging nettles. All I could hear behind me was a series of "Oooo. Ows" and yelps. This didn't sound quite like Bluebird, and it turned out to be AA with unprotected legs. 

 

Bluebird, recently recovered, was wearing long trousers and the nettles proved no problem. Riffraff and Man-Pig just had to suffer them in silence.

 

The trail crossed Rosemary Avenue, and then an arrow had us cross the A383 and then right and left onto Barton Drive and up Ogwell Mill Lane. The tarmac gave way to the old, and once cobbled, track that leads quite steeply down to the ford on the River Lemon below Emblett Hill. An ideal place for a check but no check was to be seen by the intrepid scouting party.

 

The five of us, Beeflicker, Man-Pig, Bluebird, AA and Riffraff, looked in vain for trail clues.

Eventually, Beeflicker found a mark and we headed east and past Bradley Manor towards Bradley Park. Over a little stream and a tiny bridge that had been the site of last week's AshHash regroup and then following the marks north past some light industrial units and towards the microwave transmitter atop Broadlands. But were these new marks or last week's AH3 marks? 

 

The seasoned old Indian tracker (aka halfwit Bluebird) deduced that they be old marks. Man-Pig who, in fairness did have the benefit of having run last week's AH3 trail, concluded that they be new marks.

 

We followed them anyway. When we hit Barton Drive for the second time we came across an arrow in flour; very new flour. We were definitely "On".

 

Another arrow had us bear right onto a footpath with fencing to one side before we joined Manor Road heading due north. After only a couple of hundred yards, we were back on the A383 and the OH trail up Pitt Hill Road. 

 

The arrows came thick and fast, and we were on the wooded footpath that leads to Highweek Church and thence left and back to the pub. 

 

The GPS read 3.00 miles as Bluebird and I entered the pub car park. Ablesemen's distance was bang on the money.

 

Down-Downs

The five FRB's entered a reasonably quiet bar. Where were the others? We ordered a pint each and sat down and waited, and waited......and waited some more. Eventually, some half hour later, Shitfaced appeared:

 

"Where have you been?"

"On the Walkers' trail".

"How far have you gone?"

"4.05 miles"

"You have not been on the Walkers' trail."

 

Then, in dribs and drabs, the others made it back to the On-Down. The one thing that they all have in common is that they had all done well over 3 miles. Where had they been?

 

A panting Broadshit and Scott ordered at the bar. Whilst they were waiting, I asked:

"Did you find yourself at the Cricketfield car park per chance?"

 

"Yes" replied Broadshit.

 

Fantastic. The Hash had done last week's AshHash trail...oh dear.

 

Once everyone had got a drink and discussed where they went or should have gone, it was time for the Down-Downs. 

 

Forrest Stump wasn't present as it was Mucking Fuddle's birthday and it would be good to have someone other than the Pig to RA for a change. Hence vice GM, U-Bend, assumed RA'ing duties for the evening. But, prior to the awards, Ablesemen had some prizes to give out.

 

First question: "Who was on the throne after Charles 1st?" Some wrong answers but Bobbiball came up with Oliver Cromwell and won an apple.

 

Second question: "Charles 1st had several mistresses, but who was his favourite?"

"Nell Gwyn" declared Bluebird before collapsing and another apple was awarded.

 

Apples exhausted, it was over to U-Bend to RA.

 

"Who has an award?"

 

Satnav was first up to dish the dirt. This was all rather self-inflicted as Satnav recounted a story of looking up where tonight's On-Down was from the FB page. She printed off the map and then jumped into her car. 

 

The fly in the ointment was that she'd forgotten her reading glasses and the newly printed map turned out to be as useful as a chocolate fireguard. But, NO, she was not giving herself the Down-Down. She was giving it to Ablesemen on the occasion of her birthday. A note for the birthday girl.

 

The second award of the evening was the Jester's hat which Pisswell had. This she awarded to Smellie for taking her 3 miles off trail just to have a play on the swings in a childrens' playground. How childish. A note for "The swinger" as Smellie takes an inordinate time to down her half from the vet's sperm sample container (I think it was clean....ish).

 

The return of Bluebird also heralded the return of the Hashshit shirt. Well, the Bird rabbited on about this and that for ages, mostly unrelated to the Hash. When he eventually ran out of puff, he awarded the shirt to the svelte gazelle who ultimately succumbed to a knee injury. Kindly step forward, AA!

 

One half left. Were there any more stories? Plenty, but Ablesemen still hadn't had all the right notes but not necessarily in the right order. And so this concluded the evening's excitement.....or did it?

 

Epilogue - Good Samaritans

Bluebird and the Pig were, comme d'habitude, last to leave the On-Down. But what was this before us? Not very far down Pit Hill Road we recognised a couple of Hashers' cars pulled over to the side of the road. What was going on? 

 

We had encountered a young lady in some distress. Perhaps drug related? An ambulance had been called and Smellie's was comforting an obviously distressed young woman - probably only 15 or 16. Such a shame. But well done Hashers. You all have a heart of gold. We all care about each other and those we know. It is a true sign of a decent human being to care about those we don't know. Maybe there's a little bit of the Samaritan in all of us? We hope the young woman is now on the road to recovery.

Well done.

 

Birdlogue

Back at the watering hole, Bobby finally arrived after his off-trail meander and persuaded me that it was definitely my round. 

 

Yes, I recall it now, you bought me a pint on my birthday and then drank it for me. Bobby asked when the next Tunas' gig was and the talk turned to music. Der Rottenfuhrer then bet me £1000 that Johnny Cash didn't sing Ghost Riders in the Sky. Sorry Bob, take a look at this link and weep:

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JMll6TNnTs4

I'll take a cheque, Bob.

 

Thank you Able and Slip on Me for the trail. Several sections I had never seen before and what a shrewd move it was wearing trousers in the stinger alley. 

 

Hasta la vista, baby!

 

Next week

Next week's Hash is not, as previously advertized from the Wolborough Inn, Newton Abbot but from Hash HQ, the Park Inn with Hare Shitfaced.....and friend?

On-On to next week.

• 
  

So Cruise updated the group cover photo.

TVH3 The Words for 22nd May 2023

 

by Pisswell

 

Holne village hall

 

Run No.1970

 

Hare: Pisswell

 

Who was there: Soapy, Melonpicker, Horny, Teapot, Strap on, Ernie, Piltdown Man, Georgie Porgie, Smellie, Big End, Well Hopped, Roger the Dodger, Manpig, Able Seaman, Satnav, Slip on me, Shitfaced, Beefy, Pisswell, Fukarwe, U bend, Forrest, Wood lend and latecomers Archangel and Coldtits.

 

Circle:

Shitfaced welcomed hashers to the circle at the village hall in Holne, the pub being closed on Mondays. Pint and pizza and money in the pot later.

 

Hash no. 1970. What happened in 1970? I think it was to do with football because I didn’t think it was worth remembering! 

 

A welcome to returnee Forrest and to his healing (well shared on Facebook, because of its un- named and at that time un-known body part) stump. Sorry Forrest!

 

Smellie has July 31st available for a willing hare Beefy reminded us of the Staverton beer festival on Sunday 28th, which he will be participating in. A reminder from Georgie Porgie & Piltdown man of “ The grand day out” on July 15th. The hash is contributing to the cost of this and Soapy is taking names for a Greek meal at the end of the day.

 

And then over to the hare. Pisswell proceeded to confuse the entire circle so they were going around in circles! There were at least 4 trails but more could be added by the addition of either driving to Scorriton and using the hall car park there or getting a lift from Pisswell. Laid on the right. One and on (saved her some mileage and it worked well for Manpig, or did it?) and a chance to see the deer park, which the two versions of long would see but so could others if they agreed to cheating with a lift.

 

She reminded hashers that there were no rules in hashing! And dogs on leads near deer please. Walkers if not wishing to cheat, could do the longs, as we know Teapot likes to, until Scorriton, where there was a free pint if they were still there and sweeties. Then back home for walkers.

 

So all was clear as mud, hashers broke the circle and everyone set off and ignored the hare!

Pisswell then drove to and fro offering lifts in her sporty little red car! Archangel and Forrest were thrilled to see a fawn in the road from her window, and Perry was even more excited!

 

The trail:

John Denver - Take Me Home, Country Roads (Lyrics)

 

Almost heaven, days a beauty

Pint and Pizza, shame-not-near-a river!

Circle up there, 4 routes choice for three 2 Long runs in deer park/ ?taxi lift with me

-------------------

Country roads, take me t’Holne,

To the road past Ashburton,

No virgins there, Dartmoor mania,

Take me home, country roads

----------------------------------

All the hashers, gather 'round me I’ve confused them, “there’s no rules in hashing”!

Pretty footpaths, lead to Scorriton, Sweetie stop and pint there, milks gone off and gone!

-------------------------------

Country roads, take me t’Holne,

To the road past Ashburton,

Want a taxi? If routes too far,

To see deer in the park.

---------------------------

I hear her voice at the sweetie stop she calls me

Directing all the walkers to the start far away

Running up the road, longs get a feelin'

That they should be on home the same day, the same day!

-----------------------------------

Country road, take me t’Holne,

To the road past Ashburton,

At Chalk ford there, there’s a ha ha

Back to short, take me home.

---------------------------------

No more roads, through the deer park

To the moor at Gibbycombe

Via a small bog, no shoes lost there

Take me down, to Mitchelcombe.

-------------------------------------

Take me home, past the church

Take me home, I’m on home.

===================

 

Afterwards Pizza and beers followed by scones, jam and cream.

 

The down downs:

Horny was the only one with an award, which she awarded to the hare Pisswell, because of her persuading people to join her in her sexy red car to while away a few minutes!!

Satnav was awarded a water down down: 'Here’s to Manuel’, as an episode from Fawlty Towers arose in the kitchen as she snatched the pizzas from Forrest after realising she had promised them to someone else! Great help Satnav. IOU a pint.

 

Georgie Porgie, also a water down down, for seeing the dear sheep, or was it deer?

Manpig’s down down escapes me too. Something about losing their way at the ha ha. Please comment the reason.

 

Lost property was a green jacket, to be worn on the next hash by Manpig for identification and embarrassment!

 

On on to next week from the Highweek Inn, Newton Abbot with Able Seaman. Details to follow.