A WARM WELCOME FROM TVH3

Welcome to the Teign Valley Hash House Harriers of glorious South Devon. You are guaranteed a warm welcome and a great hash experience. We are the 'Party Hash' and we run from pubs all over Torbay, Dartmoor and the Teign Valley every Monday evening at 7.15pm. Our trails are marked with flour, chalk or sawdust and take in woodland, streams, byways, bridle paths and rolling countryside. We cater for all abilities, you needn't worry about keeping up, a leisurely walk with others or a good paced run if you're fit - you choose. The run duration is anything from 30 minutes to an hour and the distance is normally between 3-6 miles depending on whether you decide to take a short or long trail. Your first run is free, so come along and give it a go! After the run hashers enjoy a drink and food in the pub. On many occasions, the pub will lay on a 'Hash Menu', food specially for hashers.

WHAT TO EXPECT AT YOUR FIRST HASH

Starts soon after 7:15 pm each Monday.
The Grandmaster will gather the hash together in a circle and welcome Virgins & Visitors to TVH3 and inform the group of pertinent news or upcoming events.
Hares will announce details or the trail, number of long and short splits and regroups.

Down-Downs - sometimes at the circle but usually in the pub after the run. Hashers and harriets (lady hashers) have a half pint and under age hashers have a soft drink or water. If you are driving, just ask the RA for water.

A Down-Down is a means of punishing, rewarding, or merely recognizing an individual for any action or behaviour. Once awarded, the downdown must be drunk without pause, otherwise the RA may take action!

Individuals may be recognized for outstanding service, or for their status as a visitor or newcomer.

Down-Downs also serve as punishment for misdemeanours real, imagined, or blatantly made up.

Such transgressions may include: wearing new shoes, pointing with a finger, or the use of real names rather than hash names.

Hash Names

The use of real names (nerd name) during an event is discouraged, and members are typically given a new "hash name," usually in deference to a particularly notorious escapade, a personality trait, or their physical appearance.

Members are named after attending the hash on several occasions or if something noteworthy occurs to prompt a naming.

Other hashers may share stories or observations about the individual, with the final name being chosen by general consensus from all suggestions put forward by the hash.

NEWCOMERS TO THE HASH
Completely new to hashing? Don't know what to expect? Worried, shy or nervous? You needn't be as all newcomers or virgins as they are known, will receive a warm welcome. When the hashers are called to make a circle - about 7:15 pm each Monday, the Grand Master will welcome all hashers and after various notices about forthcoming events etc are dealt with, he will ask if there are any visitors from other hashes or virgins present. You will be asked to come forward and be introduced to the hash. A tip to remember, don't wear new trainers as these are frowned upon by the RA (Religious Advisor) and will incur a sprinkling of flour over them. That's all there is to it and you can then step back and enjoy the run and the social get together after in the On Down (the pub). Whatever your pace, there are certain to be others who will keep you company along the trail. Walk, jog or run - it's up to you.
Hashing is all about making friends and having fun, so just turn up any Monday and have a go.

Friday, 14 July 2023

I'M SINGIN' IN THE RAIN & A TALE OF TWO TWITTIES

The Monks' Retreat, Broadhempston
 
Run No. 1977 11 July 2023
 
HARES: Fukarewe & Prickley Bush aided by Pole Dodger
 
Who wuz there: Fukarewe, Prickly Bush, Pole Dodger, Shitfaced, Man-Pig, Archangel, Cheerio-Beerio, Threesum, Bluebird, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Beefy, Pisswell, Broadshit, Scott, Coldtits, Beeflicker, Ned, Well Hopped, Ernie, Wetfart, U-Bend, Pork Torpedo, Horny, Fallen Woman, Broken Man, Soapy, Melon Picker, Satnav, Piddler, returnees Rent Boy & Diane, Ollie and plethora of local newbies recruited by the Hare including a chap with a brolly; in total 50!
 
Circle
The forecast was grim - a 90% chance of rain at 7pm. For a change the forecast was correct. It was, therefore, a huge surprise that the pack had swollen to 50! The reason for the huge pack was due to a recruitment drive in the village by the Hares. Such was the success of their recruitment drive, I can only assume that the new faces were all pleurophiles. It was wet and was going to get much wetter.
 
Smellie put out a call for a volunteer Hare for 31 July. Piltdown Man had a final plug for TVH's Grand Day Out on Saturday - an all day A to B style trail. Let's hope that it's a tad drier on Saturday. In addition, Soapy advertised the Turkish meal in Newton Abbot after the run.
 
The Hare then stepped into the huge circle to describe the run. The Walkers' trail would be about 3 miles. The Shorts' 3.5 and the Longs' around 5 miles. Great. We should all be back in the pub just after 8.30. The sooner the better as it was beginning to pelt down. 
 
Furthermore, there would be not one, but two, sweetie stops and three Long/Short splits. The marks could either be in sawdust, chalk or flour.....if any are still left?
 
The Trail
Our local virgins were a mixed bunch. At one end of the spectrum we clearly had some FRB'ing athletes. At the other end of the spectrum, we had some seniors who would, no doubt, be tackling the trail at a more leisurely pace. These were interspersed with everything in-between.
 
Local folklore has it that Broadhempston has four roads in but only three out! Local knowledge would come in useful.
 
The trail started by passing the the village car park and entrance to the new village hall to our left before arriving at the first Long/Short split. 
 
The Shorts' went right and down Small Lane. The Longs' continued onwards and an arrow took us right and though a gate into what appeared to be allotments. I'm not sure if I'd been in there before.
 
Having navigated our way around the allotment, we found ourselves on New Lane heading back into the village. We passed the Coppa Dollar and almost missed the arrow that took us down and then up Daniel's Lane and onto Wotten Way.
 
At this point, we began to catch up with the Shorts'. This included our returnees from Spain, Rent Boy and Diane. 
 
A left and then a right and we were heading uphill on the "main" road that would eventually take you back to Ipplepen. We passed Scott and Broadshit just before arriving at the hairpin left hander where Prickly Bush and Pole Dodger ensured that we didn't end up in Ipplepen as they guided us onto a public footpath.
 
Up and across two fields and past the transmitter and then into a small plantation atop a hill we went until encountering a check. 
 
Some had gone straight ahead. Erection, a seasoned Hasher, stood by the check whilst the Pig and the Bird took the right hand fork.
 
On-On, even though both tracks arrive at the same place.
 
We exited the plantation on high ground. In front, we could see the FRB's down below. A couple of FRB's had gone to the right and were now running back to the left. Big mistakatomaka as some, but not all, eventually found out.
 
We had done this trail a couple of times before, but usually from the other direction. I think the last time we did it was on a Wet-Johnny trail. The obvious route would have been to the left and back to Broadhempston via Torbryan. 
 
Halfway down the slope there is a stile and a field boundary/fence. This was the last mark that I saw for almost 20 minutes.
 
Sheeplike, the Bird and I followed the pack down onto the lane at Ambrook. Quite a few FRB's were on the lane looking for non-existent marks and some had already hightailed it towards Poole Cross.
 
A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. Wet-Johnny was convinced that this was similar to one of his trails but in reverse. The FRB'ing Broadhempstoners thought likewise including our be-brollied Dutchman. It was full speed ahead to Poole Cross. At the back of the FRB's were Erection, Wet-Johnny, Well Hopped, Ned, Man-Pig and Bluebird. 
 
Something was amiss. NO MARKS!
 
The Pig and the Bird had an uneasy feeling and slowed. By the time we reached Poole Cross, all the FRB's were out of sight except Erection. Had they gone left or right? Road all the way back to Broadhempston or via Torbryan? 
 
Erection made the decision to make a beeline back to Broadhempston via road. The Bird and Pig checked out towards Torbyan. Nothing. No marks. No calling. No returning Hashers off-trail.
"Let's follow Erection and see if we find marks" suggested the Piggy one. After 500m we found nothing apart from a solitary blob of four. But this was in the middle of the road. It was definitely flour but is didn't look like a mark.
 
"OK. Back to the last mark at the field boundary above Ambrook".
 
The Bird wrung out about a pound of water from his singlet. The Pig re-donned his Ron Hill waterproof....don't know why, and back to Ambrook we jolly well trotted. Here we came across Shitfaced and friend just about to backtrack the Longs'.
 
"Are you on trail?" asked the Pig.
 
"Yes. I think so. We've only just come out of the field 20 yards back".
 
Sure enough, 50 yards further on there was a second footpath exiting onto the lane. What was more, most of the local Walkers' trail were coming down it. 
 
The penny dropped. At the fenced field boundary we should have gone right and not left. Beeflicker should have stuck to his guns as he was on trail.
 
Although backtracking the Longs' outward trail was tempting we elected to run the marked trail....but where on earth were the other FRB's? There had to be at least 7 or 8 hashers off trail in the Torbryan area.
 
We soon found sawdust and then more sawdust. We were definitely back on trail after nearly 20 minutes lost at sea. Were we still FRB's? Was everyone else off trail? 
 
At Fishacre Cross it was right and up past Fishacre Barton. We had got our eye in and we could see plenty of sawdust now. Perplexingly however, this was now in the middle of the road - perhaps to avoid any gully water washing them away.
 
We headed northwest and uphill towards Broadhempston. Occasionally, we could see a splash of flour in the hedge augmenting the sawdust. Hallelujah!. The sweetie stop and a Long/Short split. We arrived just as Coldtits was leaving.
 
"Have you seen the Longs'?" the Pig asked Fukarewe.
"Yes. Smellie, Beefy etc have already been through".
"What about Wet-Johnny?'
"No".
"Ahhhhh. You might not be seeing him or any more of the FRB's. They were last seen heading towards Torbryan!"
".......and haven't returned?" enquired the slightly incredulous Hare.
 
"Nope" I perceived that the Hare was making a mental note for the recipient of a Down-Down.
 
"I will stay here for 10 minutes just in case they get back on trail", announced Fukarewe. What a stalwart but, if I was a betting man, I would wager that we would be the last to arrive at the sweetie stop.
 
The Hare gave the bedraggled back markers some directions and we trotted down the bridal path at Hollycombe Green. We ignored the third and final Long/Short split across a field of corn and joined the highway at Slipperstone Cross. 
 
Fukarewe had told us to do a dogleg left and then right at this juncture. This would have taken us down to Bow Cross and then back into Broadhempston via Bow Mill Farm and Millclose Linhay.
 
We were soaked through and parts of Hollycombe Green had been decidedly dipsy. Hence we turned north and up past Lowmans Farm, encountering Fukarewe again at Stoop Cross. We were pretty much home.
 
What a trail (for those that were on it)? Made all the better because of the rain!
 
And now, with apologies to Charles Dickens and Alfred, Lord Tennyson, we bring to you:
 
A Tale of Two Twitties by Bird Sickens
 
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, as Bird Sickens wandered lonely as a cloud way way down in the boondocks of despair that was the blighted land of the Fukarwi tribe.
 
Nosing into the obviously misnamed Broadhempston, a mighty host of rain-jacketed hashers appeared. Having been cut off from the civilized world for five days, Bird Sickens was unaware of the forecast deluge, emerging from the silver chariot clad in shorts and singlet... whatamistakatomaka.
 
The NeverEnding Story circle spiel was tedious, and the Rain god on high began to weave his mischief as, finally, the host got underway beneath leaden skies.
 
All was uneventful until the two mile marker and the Tale of Two Twitties unfolded.
 
Captain Johnny's Twitties
 
There were some tasty virgins out there. A group of five or six smashed onto tarmac with narrowed eyes and snorting steam.
 
in the absence of a check, and not waiting for the scouts to the right to return, they veered left.
Johnny had laid a trail from these parts before and believed it must be left. The die was cast and there would be no turning back. 
 
A half a mile later, and still nary a mark to be seen, Johnny's Twitties were undeterred in their quest for everlasting foolishness. 
 
The last sighting had them closing fast with Denbury village green.
 
Singalong with me:
When Wet Johnny comes marching home again
Hurrah! Hurrah!
We'll give him a hearty welcome then
Hurrah! Hurrah!

The men will cheer and the boys will shout
The ladies they will all turn out
And we'll all feel gay
When Wet Johnny comes marching home.
 
No? Well please yourselves then - you usually do.
 
Colonel Man-Pig's Twitties
Meanwhile, the rearguard of the Colonel and Bird Sickens had followed Captain Johnny's ill-fated foray in the fond belief that marks had been seen.
 
With every furlong covered, a deeper suspicion formed in the mind of Colonel Man-Pig. The rain intensified and Bird sickened even more. He began to edge furtively back from whence he had come but was halted in his retreat as the Colonel bellowed: 'Come on, let's check out the Torbryan road!' sigh...
 
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the Colonel and Bird Sickens.
Someone had blundered.
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to hash and die.
 
The Colonel had a set of wheels that just wouldn't quit. 
 
Leaving the bedraggled and soaking wet Bird at Giraffe junction, he coursed back in the other direction.
A brief eureka moment faded away as Man-Pig called the Bird to investigate a strange white mark in the road. 
 
A lesser hasher would have headed for the salvation of the pub but Colonel Man-Pig was on a quixotic mission and he was going to find the trail even if hell did bar the way.
 
And find it Don Quixote and his faithful companion Sancho Panza Shirley did.
 
Many twists and turns later, in heavy rain and non-existent light, the Colonel and Bird Sickens made the haven of the Monks Retreat. 
 
Shirley Valentine a Night to Remember.
 
Down-Downs
The Hare and co-Hare were keen to get the Down-Downs underway whilst most of the visiting locals were still in the pub. They also had some suggestions for those who were deserving of a Down-Down. Hence, push on with the Down-Downs. But first a question posed by the RA:
 
"What happened in 1977?"
 
Beefy immediately answered with, "The Queen's Silver Jubilee" - correct.
 
The pub made us enormously welcome. In fact, Fukarewe had enticed them to open especially for us. Splendid.
 
Accordingly the RA commenced proceedings by:
1. Thanking the pub for opening
2. Thanking the pub for providing the scoff
3. Thanking the pub for such pretty bar staff (the silver tongued lounge lizard strikes again)
4. Most importantly, thank the pub for the beer
Cheers all round.
 
What did we think of the trail? "Too dry". Obvious really.
 
On to the Down-Downs.
Satnav had had a Down-Down the previous week so she came up with the story of one of our visitors taking the initiative. He would avoid the rain by running with a brolly. Big mistaka. Pisswell had just given the RA a child's wellington boot resurfacing again from the previous week's hash at the Rugglestone.The RA then delighted in pouring a half pint of beer into the toddler's welly for him to down accompanied by Pork Torpedo reciting 'Why was he born so beautiful...'
 
Next up was Smellie who had the birthday cake hat. She commenced by asserting that a Hasher had almost caused a diplomatic incident before even clearing passport control in Poland the previous week. This was Man-Pig who was simply practicing the name of a local brand of beer. However, if mispronounced it means nipples or tits. The Pig had already received a down-down for this in Poland so he wasn't getting a second one. Tonight's story went back a fortnight to the Hash from the Parkers Arms. 
 
Those of you on Facebook will recall that the Hash's David Bailley (aka Beefy) posted a photo of Smellie with the caption, "Back end of a bus". Hence Beefy was awarded a Down-Down for a crime against womanhood with the rendition of the faulty Aladdin's lamp ditty.
 
Co-hare Prickly Bush had a story about a local virgin who had committed the most heinous of crimes....and on her first hash. This was awarded to local girl Polly for getting a lift back in a car. Pork Torpedo let rip with his particular rendition of "Love me tender"....oh dear!
 
Finally, the Hare got his revenge for waiting for ages for those that did not come. Fukarewe awarded the final Down-Down to Wet-Johnny for taking 50% of the Longs' off trail on a DIY route around Torbryan....with not a mark in sight. Wet-Johnny, you know better than that. Pork Torpedo came up with "The Grand Old Duke of York".
 
A big "Thank you" to the Hares for laying a pretty good trail in atrocious conditions and for going over and above the call of duty in arranging the pub on a night when it's usually closed. In fact we enjoyed it so much that next week's Hare threatened to change the venue!
 
Thankyou all for coming and the contribution made by the indigenous virgin Hashers. We hope that you enjoyed it. 
 
Please come again.
 
Next week
Next week's Hash is at The Star, Liverton with Hares Melon Picker and Soapy.
 
On-On to next week!


A VERITABLE TOUR DE MOOR

Run #1976 Monday 3rd July 
 
from the Rugglestone Inn
 
Hare: Pisswell assisted by Beefy
 
 

 
Who wuz there: U Bend, Wet Johnny, Gianluca, BroadS, Scott, Pork Torpedo, Hornie, Pisswell, Beefy, Ernie, Fukarwi, BeeFlicker, Fallen Woman, Wetfart, Able, Archangel, Big End, Well Hopped, ThreeSum, SatNav, Zoot, Hotlips, Teapot, Forrest, Slip on Me, Cheerio Beerio, BB, Soapy, Melonpicker and possibly an unknown Lunatic attendee.
 
Preamble
Amble was the word as mine silver chariot climbed towards the moor from Goodmans Cross. Amble became shambles as around a corner a column of crawling chariots appeared. At the head of affairs, the culprit and cause was a tractor pulling a loaded trailer of hay bales.
 
For the next threequarters of a mile, we proceeded at a snail's pace, and anxiously did I look at my chronograph. In my wing mirror, a blue van appeared - Pork Torpedo and Hornie but they had timed it rather better and were delayed for only about half a mile. 
 
At Cold East Cross, the abomination mercifully turned off but the Bird predictably became disorientated and slewed across the junction letting the Torpedo bus through. Blast it, Blaster!
Wandering sheep slowed us a tad on the approach to Widecombe but we made it bang on time for the circle. Olé, Ollie!
 
Circle
With a Polish expeditionary force comprising Man-Pig, Bobby Woll, Piltdown, Georgy and Smellie, numbers were expected to be on the low side. However, thirty intrepid hashers assembled for Pisswell's Tour de Moor.
 
Preparing my old tech of an ancient 2006 Xacti minicam, I missed the circle spiel but believe U Bend was pressed into service with the GM and Piltdown missing. 
 
Pisswell then outlined the plan of action: 2.2 miles for the walkers, about 4 miles for the shorts and 'possibly' a long of 5.5 miles - all distances to be taken on board with caution - and with the knowledge that a mile on the moor was Shirley going to be more arduous than its flat tarmac equivalent.
Go with whatever deity you trust, and the hash caravan moved towards the exit of the car park.
Over to Pisswell for her 'Widecombe Fools on the hill'
 
The Fool on the Hill
Song by The Beatles Lyrics Day after day
I recced this hill
The girl with the welly boots is keeping quiet until The circle.
Who wants to wear them?
They can see that she's not a fool
And she risk assessed the danger
But the fools on the hill sees their friends going down
As we cross Venton mire, see them sink in the ground!
Up the Rugg rock, just past the Inn
We wade through the virgin bog and follow where she has been
They squelch up to Bovey rock and, the split takes the longs to Pil tor
If lost you had took no notice
But the fools on Top Tor see the shorts running down
And the walkers as well, as they short cut around.
Instrumental
And everyone goes to Bonehill, whilst they all chose what they must do
They’re on, up the track to Chinkwell
But the fools on Honeybags, see the rest going down
As they reach the ha ha, see the trail turning ‘round
More instrumental
And all over Bell to Bone hill, they know they’re the same old fools
More virgin ground is seen there
And Higher Northway farm hosts the hash through their ground
See the pond and the bridge, to the pub we are bound.
Instrudrivingyoumental
Yes, the fools on the hill,
See the sun going down
As they go to the Rugg
And join in the down downs
Instruhashersdrivingyoumental
Yes, no fools lost on the hill
Missing pints going down
As the fools from the hash
Win awards that abound.
 
Pisswell added: The bracken bashing was worth it and the Rugglestone and owners of Higher Northway and Northway have to be thanked for their virgin territory.
 
It went much better than I expected and combined as a lunatic hash! Loved the little welly boot and was great to speak to the people in Poland who all sent tbeir love mid hash! 
 
Hope you enjoyed it? Pisswell x
 
The Tour de Moor by the Bird on the hill
 
After a hundred yards, I knew it wasn't going to happen. The legs felt like lead and breathing was difficult. Wet Johnny and Gianluca were right behind and chatting away. If I knew then what I knew an hour later, I might have adjourned to the bar. 
 
But what the heck, it was an adventure and quitting was not an option.
 
The silly sod HA HA at the start, cruelly directed with arrows, gave the shorts and walkers a nice little start but they created a log-jam in the lower boondocks as the longs sought a way through. I simply could not go with Big End and Well Hopped, and if anything, started to feel worse.
 
The steep hill out of Widecombe loomed large in the crosswires with the trail running parallel. I had seen this game many times before and much preferred the tarmac ascent.
 
After briefly linking up with Big End and Well Hopped, I decided to keep to the road to keep an eye on proceedings as there was no way Pedro that I could do the long trail.
 
Below me, I espied the shorts and walkers, led by U Bend crossing the B3387 - Shirley a good indicator that the longs would have to cross as well later on.
 
Tacking across (SCB), I made contact with the longs headed by BeeFlicker along with Big End, Well Hopped, Ned, Fukarwi and Ernie. Not far off were Broads, Scott and Beefy.
 
A camping gent emerged from his tent to have a chat as BeeFlicker took a photo from on top of a tor.
Back down to the main road we journeyed where Pisswell was waiting, and I asked for the exit strategy.
At Bonehill Rocks, we caught sight of the shorts about to disappear into the bracken and Pisswell called out to them: 'Do you want to do the rest of the short?' 
 
There was quite a pause until U Bend replied: 'No.' I knew how he felt, it was a beaut of an evening, the scenery was heaven-like but we had nearly been out for an hour and the bar beckoned Bertie.
 
Down to the farm and passing Hornie and SatNav having a natter, and then Able and Slip on Me with Fallen Woman up ahead.
 
I needed the chequered flag quite badly now - that little old pensioner plucked from a park bench was looking like Superman and Able had to slow up a little for me to keep up.
 
Ah, the main road and the cut across the field to the Rugglestone. Nearly five miles covered but boy, that Legend tasted good.
 
Some time later, the longs dribbled back. Remarkably, BeeFlicker not only completed the 6.6 moor miles but had run up to Widecombe as well, covering double figures in the process. Good job he's an ultra runner.
 
The longs did well on what would be about a ninety minuter. I wasn't surprised with Big End and Well Hopped but Fukarwi, Ernie, Broads and Scott had a really good workout.
 
Downdowns
Covered by video, all nine minutes.
 
Birdlogue
Looking back on the evening, I am glad I made the effort to get out. It was unfortunate that I was unable to do the long but I had a great time nevertheless.
 
Finally, an apology to Wetfart (non Facebook subscriber). In the car park, he asked if I had forgotten to put the road closure on the website. Guilty. I had meant to do it but if you don't do it immediately, it'll be forgotten. Sorry Wetfart.
 
Next week
Confirming that it will be Fukarwi's hash from his local, the Monks Retreat at Broadhempston. Details to follow.
 
ON ON to next week!


Saturday, 1 July 2023

TVH3 The Words for 26th June 2023

The Parkers Arms, Collaton St Mary 
 
Run No. 1975
 
I'M STILL STANDING
 
HARE: Man-Pig
 
Who wuz there: Man-Pig, Bluebird, Shitfaced, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Beefy, Pisswell, Broadshit & friend Scott (who has been with us before but I don't recall him having been named) Coldtits, Slip-on-Me, Beeflicker, Big End, Ned, Well Hopped, Ernie, Fukarewe, Strap-On, Fallen Woman, Broken Man, Soapy, Melon Picker, Palmolive, Satnav, Triple Jump, Piddler, Teapot, Wetfart, Able, Bobbiball and visitors from Teignmouth, Tim and Andrew - both brought by Smellie.
 
Circle
The Parkers Arms has a large car park. Nevertheless, I arrived early to secure a parking spot. Although, given last week's low numbers and the multiple venue changes for tonight's run, I was not expecting a big turnout. BONG! Wrong!
 
It seems everyone had the same plan as me - "get there early". The result was that there were no parking spaces, and I had to park on the road. However, the late arriving Fukarewe entered into the car park after the Circle had started and simply glided into a vacant space. There is no justice in the World....or I need to go to Specsavers?
 
Announcements were brief. Smellie needed a Hare for 4th August. Also, Smellie had brought along two virgins, Andrew and Tim. Teapot welcomed them into the Circle and inaugurated them with a dousing of the Hare's flour.
 
The Hare then gave a spiel about food orders and, "If you ask nicely, you may still be able to get the pre 5pm deal of two main meals for twenty quid". 
 
There was not much advice on the trail apart from one Long/Short split and an opportunity for the Shorts to take in a viewpoint which was only on the Long's trail. This would involve a 200 yard back track up a steep hill. This would also be against the flow of the Longs but well worth the view. This part of the trail would be marked "VP only".
 
Pre-trail
Frankly I was surprised that anyone made it to The Parkers Arms given the number of venue changes since Wednesday night. The build-up to tonight's trail was somewhat auspicious. It started with a text from Smellie on Wednesday evening:
"U-Bend can't do Monday. Can you be a stand-in Hare?"
"Err. I guess so. I'm on babysitting duty so I'll try to come up with something tomorrow".
 
The problem wasn't so much the trail, it was finding a venue. On Thursday evening, I drove up to the Old Smokey in Marldon. It is a huge pub, always busy in the summer and we haven't hashed from there in about 15 years. There is a simple reason that we haven't been there for so long. They don't open on Mondays....even in the height of the summer holiday season.
 
My next port of call was the Church House Inn in Marldon. This is a quite upmarket On-Down but Piltdown-Man and Georgy Porgy have had us hashing from there about 18 months ago.
Initially, all seemed well. Yes, they could have us but they'd need to speak to the chef regarding a Hash-priced (cheapo) food option. I left them my business card and they promised to get back to me. I reported progress to Smellie and the Bird published the venue details on FB....prematurely as it turned out.
 
The following day, I received an e-mail from the Church House Inn. "Sorry we can't accommodate you". Drat. On to Plan C....there hadn't even been a Plan A!
 
Plan C: The Parker's Arms. "Would they have us at such short notice?" Only one way to find out. Take a trip down to the pub and ask them. I always like to ask in person. It shows conviction and automatically builds a personal bond. So much better that an impersonal e-mail or a phone call I find.
 
I decided to attempt to kill two birds with one stone. I would take the old motorcycle out for its annual spin and do a little recce around the lanes. I wished I hadn't. 
 
At one point, I had the wing mirrors brushing foliage on both sides. These must be tracks. They can't be a part of Devon's highway network.
 
However, on checking the map, they were, indeed roads....and used roads at that. My first encounter was with a farmer in his pick-up. Fortunately, it was at a junction so plenty of room to pass.
 
The next encounter was with a white Fiesta van. This was on the narrowest part of the road-cum-track. The Fiesta reversed but there was something fishy about this vehicle. It was on the most remote of roads leading nowhere. Where was he going? What was he doing? Was he lost?
 
In fact, this was not so much fishy as aromatic. As he reversed I followed him slowly up to the junction where the Long/Short split was to be. There was definitely an aroma in the air. I recognised it, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. It was a recollection from way back when. BONG! Ah, yes. Weed!
 
Suitably invigorated after having followed the Fiesta, I ploughed on to the Parkers Arms. "Yes", they would have us. Hurrah!
 
The bar menu had plenty of low-priced options and there was no requirement to get your food orders in before 9pm. Bingo. All planned.
 
The pub had been so accommodating that I didn't have the heart to ask if they'd stand us four halves of bitter as well - don't ride your luck, Man-Pig. Nevertheless, as it transpired, on the night they did stand us the beers as well so a big "Thankyou" to Cookie (landlord) & Vicki for being so accommodating.
 
I immediately reported my coup to Bluebird who put it on Facebook before I even got to keeping Smellie in the loop. Thus, it was a very pleasant surprise to find that thirty plus Hashers had successfully fought their way through the plethora of updates to arrive at the On-Down. What would the stand-in Hare have to offer?
 
The Trail
For those that have been running with TVH for some time, tonight's Hare actually had very little new to offer. What we got was a trail that was a 90% copy of one laid by Wig-Wam when he was the catering manager at the Blagdon Inn. Bluebird thinks this may have been back in 2014! 
 
A combination of maps, recce'ing and casting my mind back nine years created my approximation of Wigger's past trail.
 
Over to the Bird for his hasher on the spot snippets.
 
Confession time - Man-Pig had kindly sent me two detailed maps of the trails plus his Strava recce on Sunday. I had had a quick look and took it to be a six mile anti-clockwise loop.
MP shouted 'On left!' and the pack swept left out of the car park - and left again at the Totnes road. HA! I turned right up the hill towards Tweenaways only to hear 'On back!' behind me. 
 
A jeering Piddler cried 'Be seeing you Bluebird!' Thinking that I had madamistaka and MP had intended a clockwise loop, I turned, quite disgruntled, to join the tailenders of the pack.
'ON BACK!' cried MP. Oh blast it, I had been right after all.
 
For nigh on the next five miles, the maps availed me nought in the thick of battle. It was only at the top of Blagdon road that I realized where I was going. Sigh..
 
Mentioned on trail:
 
Big End consistently checking and calling back. Seems over his injury and on the way back to fitness.
Fukarwi going for it for at least a hundred yards before realizing the game was up.
Well Hopped improving from the Totnes six miler the week before, and not letting the Bird get away.
Coldtits climbing determinedly to the viewpoint and completing the 4.7 mile 'short' trail.
Virgin Andrew well to the fore and impressing with his first run.
Beeflicker storming down the Blagdon road to collar the fleeing Bird just before that strange deer effigy.
 
Down-Downs
In the absence of both U-Bend and Forrest-Stump it would normally have been Man-Pig on RA duty for the evening. 
 
However, wary of being the teacher who marks his own homework, the Pig asked if Fallen Woman would kindly officiate for the evening? She duly obliged.
 
We commenced by thanking the pub for having us and being so accommodating, including providing the Down-Downs. Sterling service. We shall undoubtedly be back.
 
The first award to give away was the Hashshit shirt. Beeflicker gave this to a rather unfortunate Strap-On. 
 
His alleged crime being that he had wrongly kicked out a check, sending several hashers awry. It seems that Big End, dutifully checking, had called 'On one' which had been mistaken for 'ON ON!' and Strap-On had simply carried out the instruction. 
 
Oh well, worse things happen at sea.
 
Next up was the apparently recovered Bluebird with the Jester's hat. After launching himself vigorously on one of his harangues, yon virgin Andrew was singled out for his unexpected running prowess (unexpected by the Bird, anyway) and he was summoned forth for that somewhat rare bird - a virgin DD.
 
Smellie had some very interesting lost property from last week to return to its rightful owner....a small tube of Nipple Balm. Bewilderingly, Smellie advised that the likely owner was male! Last week's male contingent comprised Beeflicker (main suspect), Bluebird (aka Bluebelle - a likely candidate), Man-Pig (perplexed), Strap-On (baffled), Ernie (giggling), Piltdown Man (non-plussed) and Bobbiball (late to the On-Down so disqualified).
After a lot of finger pointing and no admissions of guilt, Fallen Woman awarded the half to Man-Pig for being Hare.....but who took the nipple balm home????? (The Bird, of course.)
 
The final half and story time. Soapy had a story. This was about a professional Hasher who FRB's by deliberately kicking out checks in the wrong direction. Who is capable of such a heinous crime? The Piddler of course.
 
Birdlogue
Where would we be without Man-Pig? 
 
Yet again, he came to the aid of the hash, tirelessly seeking a substitute OD and taking a lot of trouble with the trails. 
 
It would have been so easy if he had just laid an old trail from either the Park or Nellie, close to home, but he wanted to go the extra mile - about twenty or so extra miles if you take in the recce, lay and on the evening shadowing of the pack.
 
Ti salutiamo, Man-Pig, we salute you!
 
Next week
Next week's Hash is at The Rugglestone with Hare Pisswell. It is bound to be an excellent run. Unfortunately, half a dozen hashers, including myself, are going to miss it as we are going to visit Wigwam in Poland. 
 
I get a free seat upgrade as I have told Ryanair that I am a qualified Leopard II technician! (He may be re-routed to Kiev!)
 
On-On to next week.

Friday, 23 June 2023

VENUE CHANGE MAP for Monday 26th June


 

TIME & TIDE WAIT FOR NO MAN - OR HASHER

TVH3 The Words for 19th June 2023
 
The King William IV, Totnes
 
(Superhero Fancy Dress)
 
Run. No. 1973
 
HARE: Beeflicker
 

Who wuz there: Beeflicker, Bluebird, Man-Pig, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Coldtits, Slip-on-Me, Well Hopped, Ernie, Strap-On, Strap Dancer, Satnav, Footloose and a very late Bobbiball.
 
Circle
It doesn't need to be BIG to be good....at least, that's what I tell my wife. And this was a reflection of this evening's trail. Only 14 of us in attendance but, boy, you missed a good 'un.
No Shitfaced (tired). No U-Bend (on his hols....bless). So Piltdown stepped up as GM. Smellie announced that we were OK for Hares up to 14th August - amazing and, without further ado, over to the Hare.
 
Beeflicker did look the part but I couldn't work out if he was Spiderman or a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle....a hybrid perhaps? But he did look good. I was, nevertheless, a tad concerned. Most of his costume was leatherette including his hood and facemask. It was a beautiful, warm and humid evening. "He's going to suffer if he runs in that!" I thought.
 

And suffer he did over the entire 6 miles of the Long. Shorts would be about 4 miles and Walkers....well, shorter!
 
The Trail
I have been hashing with TVH3 for about 27 years, so virgin territory has become rather a rare beast. Not so this evening. Relative newby Beeflicker must have been researching this for ages.
 
The trail commenced uphill under the historic and iconic Totnes landmark, the bridge clock, before an arrow had the pack diving right and down the appropriately named Castle Hill (at least I now know where the entrance is to the Norman Mott & Bailey castle).
 
Bluebird led the way from Man-Pig in second and just a nose behind, Well Hopped & Ned (no Big End this week. He was playing, errrrrrm, golf!). Would this prove to be the sum total of the Longs - along with the Hare? Yes. 
 
The running order was set for the next 6.52 miles of glorious Devon countryside.
 
The first check had Well Hopped continuing down Castle Street whilst the Bird and the Pig took the left fork down a pedestrian path with a central railing and onto Lower Collarpark Road. 
 
Bingo! - an arrow in pink chalk.
 
Up along Collarpark and another check. The scene of Bluebird's undoing. The senile old bird kept running; confusing the next cross for a check and shouting "On-On" whilst carrying on running oblivious to the fact that he was off trail. 
 
The Pig made no such mistake and returned to the second check after finding a cross in the other direction. In true professional Hasher fashion, Well Hopped stood on the check waiting for the two old dodderers to find the correct trail.
 
Do not rely on Bluebird was the order of the day as Well Hopped heeded the Bird's errant "On-On" and embarked on a fool's errand. With the assistance of the Hare, the Pig found an arrow on a flight of steps that took the pack up onto the Western Bypass. Down we coursed towards the traffic lights before another pink arrow (Beeflicker seemed to like them) and left onto the track known as Copland Lane. 
 
This was the scene of Bluebird's ethereal encounter with ghostly figures back on the Burn's night run.
 
No spirits today. It was almost midsummer's day and the sun was out on a beautiful, clear and warm summer's evening. Beeflicker was still wearing his Spiderman leatherette balaclava. "Not long before he has to bin that", I thought to myself - mistakenly.
 
No deviations off Copland Lane apart from the Walkers whose trail was marked left and under a railway bridge about a quarter of the way along its length. Where Copland Lane joins tarmac, we usually go left. Not today. As Well Hopped, Bluebird and Beeflicker caught up, we were all sent right by yet another pink arrow. No-one could say that this trail wasn't well marked.
 
Suddenly, a screech of brakes. Another arrow, but this time apparently leading nowhere but into a copse following the remnants of a track. A deer track perhaps? It seemed too off the beaten track to be an underused footpath.
 
In the middle of the copse we came to a sign, "No unauthorised access". Access to where? There were no gates, fences or walls. Just a sign in the middle of nowhere. Were we "Authorised"? I guess we must have been, and we ploughed on following blobs of flour - no solid surface for the use of chalk here....pink or otherwise.
 
Now, this was new territory for me so please forgive me if I get this wrong but I am 99% sure that we were in Peek Plantation at this point. 
 
Eventually, we exited onto a meadow criss-crossed by tracks. The main one of which dropped away into another small wood with duckboards over areas that would normally flood in winter.
Another check and the Pig went left across the duckboards. Two dots within the woodland and another just after exiting onto more pasture. "On-On". In next to no time, we were back on tarmac and I suspect that this was at Redlake Cross. I vaguely recall Redlake Cross from a Wet-Johnny trail just before Christmas.
 
Tarmac meant pink arrows and, as sure as eggs are eggs, a pink arrow had us sauntering northwest towards Yarner Beacon and across the A385. A sign bore the legend "Paignton 6 1/2 miles". I had no idea where we were, just that we'd crossed a fairly major road.
 
Not too far on the other side of the A385 , we arrived at another check (at Lounard Mill I think). A public footpath to our right looked too good not to check out. Once again we were on trail. The three FRB's and the, by now very sweaty, Hare had kept pretty close for the 4 miles up to this point. We continued to do so as the public footpath took us out onto a school sports field. 
 
The trail circumnavigated the sports field and exited onto a main road opposite a Texaco station. "Hallejujah!". I knew where we were now. Just a stone's throw away from Shinner's Bridge.
 
Arrows took us over the roundabout and across the pedestrian crossing towards Dartington Cider Press. Then it was onto the tarmac footpath up Foxhole and then Dartington Hall Drive.
We ran past the public footpath that would take one back to the River Dart. We also ran past the 5 bar gate that opens onto a large field with a peculiar track crossing it. Peculiar in the sense that it comprises two parallel strips of concrete an axle width apart - no doubt a dedicated route for tractors. I recognised this as being a part of Wet-Johnny's previous trail in this neck of the woods. But this was not part of tonight's trail.
 
A few yards further on, we came to a large solid wooden gate with a smaller pedestrian gate next to it. This had a sign on it saying "Permitted Access Only. No dogs". Were we "Permitted"?
 
Still, this is where the marks were leading us, so Superdog Ned was put on a lead as we entered the Dartington Estate.
 
Initially, all was well. Not a person in sight. Then, suddenly, we encountered groups of people. Some appeared to be on a guided tour and one lady looked about to reproach us for being on the estate. "Keep running and look like you're meant to be here", I whispered to the Bird and the Well Hopped one. 
 
Mind you, it was difficult to look like serious runners when we were being led by Spiderman. Ultimately, we were not challenged as we confidently glided through the throng of perplexed visitors.
 
A zig-zag around the estate had us pass the White Hart pub and the Great Hall. Well Hopped was well impressed. We descended along the back road that would eventually exit near Swallowfields and nearly missed a mark.
 
Yet another arrow had us running through a kissing gate and dropping down onto the banks of the Dart. It was absolutely beautiful. And it was not just us appreciating the view. There were several people taking in the summer's evening by walking along the river bank. We also encountered two groups of kayakers.
 
The trail had been perfect up to this point. But then perfection somewhat dissipated. 
 
As we neared Totnes, the trail took us onto that part of the footpath skirting closest to the river. Normally this would have been fine. 
 
But not today. Someone had not consulted their tide tables. We were on a full spring tide. I have never seen the Dart so high. 
 
The net result was that the lower footpath was under three feet of water. Plan B. Backtrack 25 yards onto the upper path and resume the trail.
 
Passing under the railway bridge, we missed another arrow and the Hare had to call us back. Up a small set of steps and into the back of the Totnes industrial estate we ventured.
 
A couple of skateboarders, beers in hand, just gawked at us. They couldn't believe that they'd just seen Spiderman run past them. "You saw nothing. Just too much beer" I suggested as the three FRB's attempted, in vain, to catch up with Spiderman (or should that be Sweatyman?).
A final climb back up Station Road and we were back at the On-Down.
 
What a fantastic run. Well done Beeflicker - who was jolly glad to escape the fancy dress at this point.
 
Down-Downs
With so many absent, it was down to the Pig to RA for the evening. We started by thanking Rob, the landlord, for the beer. Rob has always been very supportive of the Hash. Thankyou.
So, who had awards from last week?
 
It turned out that Well Hopped had two awards; both hers and Big End's. Well Hopped's first nominee was Bluebird. He received the Jester's Hat due to his inability to tell the difference between a check and a false trail. A rendition of, "Hold it in your hand Mrs Murphy" commenced the Down-Downs".
 
Well Hopped additionally had the Hashshit shirt. This she awarded to the Hare. What for? For laying the trail below spring high water mark.
 
Were there any more awards? No. "What about you Satnav? Didn't you go to the wrong pub last week".
 
 
"No. That was two weeks ago".
 
"Oh no it wasn't". A rather forgetful Satnav eventually conceded defeat and nominated Smellie for a Down-Down. 
 
The RA had difficulty in working out whether Smellie had come as Wonder Woman or Super Woman. Neither apparently. She was wearing a fancy dress from the Big Bang Theory. A note for the Big Bang theorist.
 

 
Were there any stories?
 
"Yes. It is Satnav's birthday tomorrow". The final half had found a home. All the right notes, not necessarily in the right order. Also some ditty from the Pig along the lines of:
" You're stupid. You're stupid. Your so damn dumb. If your mother hadn't been there you'd be a lump of cum!" Hmmmmmmm?
 
Birdlogue
Well, that turned out to be quite an adventure. I arrived with the intention of trying for the long trail if it was five miles or less. 
 
My heart sank when Beeflicker announced 'about six miles'. Both Strap-On and Ernie politely demurred though they would be tested on what would prove to be a 4.4 mile 'short' trail - as indicated by Wonder Woman Coldti'ts Strava.
 
Looking around the tiny gathering, I realized that Man-Pig might be the only taker. Courage mon brave. It was Super Hero night after all so the little old pensioner plucked randomly from a park bench, sallied forth once more to do battle.
 
Well Hopped seemed surprised that she could keep up with us but she was strong and going well on trail. It was a glorious evening and, as MP stated, the scenery was fabulous.
I ran out of fuel entering the industrial estate, exactly at the six mile point but it was, thankfully, only a few hundred yards from home.
 
That was some trail, Beeflicker.
 
Next week - VENUE CHANGE - DETAILS POSTED ASAP
 
ON ON to next week!

MISMANAGEMENT UPDATED AGPU 7TH APRIL 2025

Grand Master Pocket Rocket
Vice G M Forrest Stump
On Sec Piltdown Man mobile 07773038756
R A Manpig
R A Forrest Stump
RA Pisswell
Hash Cash Threesome
Hash Tax Pisswell
Social sec. Cheerio Beerio
Trail Raiser Smellie
Haberdashery Zoot
Song Master Pork Torpedo
Web /Web Master Bluebird

TVH3 HABERDASHERY LINK

JESSE'S DD FROM THE TALLY HO!

EXPLANATION OF ARCHIVE TVH3 SITES

GREATHASHGOD: A dedicated site (presently mothballed and serves as archive content only) with all TVH3 content. Mostly photos from each Monday's hash but also some video clips. Named after our Life President Pottsie.

PRECONDEROTOUS: Containing the entire archive of TVH3 of some 1000 vid clips and over 5000 posts and photos. Started on November 11th 2007, the site is active with Bluebird's personal content but the archive content is fascinating and preserved, well worth a look.

Fukarwi

Fukarwi

REARENDER

REARENDER

TEAPOT

TEAPOT

SOAPY

SOAPY

MOULDY DICK

MOULDY DICK

MELONPICKER

MELONPICKER

FALLEN WOMAN

FALLEN WOMAN

DORIS

DORIS

BROKEN MAN

BROKEN MAN

ARCHANGEL

ARCHANGEL

ABLE SEMEN

ABLE SEMEN

Previously unreleased clip - Vicky's naming from the Sea Trout

FOR TVH3 HABERDASHERY CONTACT ZOOT

FOR TVH3 HABERDASHERY CONTACT ZOOT

SC