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.

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!

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.