A SEVEN MILE GIGGLE, TWO NAMINGS & A WRONGED HIPPO

Run #1790 Monday 15th April at Ipplepen Football Club with Hare Wet Johnny & Co.

Being semi coherent and barely alive after the Ipplepen footie club hash, Oh Dearly Partied out, I shall attempt to make sense of the evening's antics and manifold they were Winfield.

WJ, furiously gesticulating, redirected my recalcitrant chariot nearing the clubhouse and the early crawl became rush hour as the faithful arrived in force for that fairly unusual occurrence - a non pub On Down.

'Let's Be Careful Out There'* should be our hashing catch phrase as many a disaster is Shirley awaiting the unwary and idiotic (of which TVH has in spades) so Beefy and I decided to err on the side of caution - it being a WJ/Manopause hard man hash - and added head torches to the survival kit.

Sunday's Honiton Hippo heroes BroadS and SM Ellie were game for another giggle and would provide yet another not so classic Whatamistakatomaka moment from He who Shirley should not be named - sigh...

Bobby Woll was attired in his Heroes of Telemark get up (uncannily the same blue waterproof top, ski pole and hat) and could have passed for old Kirky** - at a distance of five miles.

I made the roll call a mighty respectable thirty eight: Teapot, Piltdown & Georgie, 69 (Verdana Blue, yeh baby), Archangel (on time), SM Ellie, BroadS, Beefy, Manopause, WJ, Erection, orienteers Ben, Hugo & Will arriving by bike, Shitfaced*** rather soberly [sic] attired for the walkers' trail, 3sum, SatNav, Wigwam, nattily bandana clad & Bobby, Hotlips & Zoot, Doris & Rambo, U Bend, Only Here, T Humper, Just Cummin', I-Poo'd, Slobbadog, Manpig, Raf, Anita, Abcess, Gosia, returnees Twinkletoes and Screwed, Poacher and BB.

The hares declared three trails: A long of six miles plus which elicited a cry of 'Is that all you've got?' a short of about two and a half miles and a walkers' route of indeterminate length. A SS and three L/S splits completed the spiel and the shorts and walkers were directed out the main entrance leaving the longs to prescribe a mandatory 'silly sod' loop of the playing field to give the rabble and serial drinkers a head start at least Larry.

The longs found the pack had progressed all of a hundred metres, perhaps being reluctant to stray too far from the bar Bobby in uncharted Indian country.

Another log jam at the second check saw the FRBs weaving through the shorts and anxious not to lose touch at this early stage. It was hard a starboard at the A381 and down past the garage Dainton bound - though turning into a farm and stables hardly helped at one arrow - the old eyesight isn't as good as it used to be Beefy...

The pecking order was now established and Ben, Will and a resurgent Hugo (following the previous week's slump) surged to the front pursued by Beefy, pit stopping (Cider) Poacher, BroadS, the Bird and a slug it out Manpig who was intent on doing some damage to the old boys... longs sweeper Manopause lurked close behind to ensure all went smoothly.

Twenty minutes into the trail trial by heart attack attempting to keep up with the action and only forty five minutes of fun left, blessed relief was given as a series of checks (good boy WJ) slowed the rapido tuxedos up just a tad.

The last long languid loop loomed large immediately after the WJ SS (WJ was dispensing a fine array of sweeties to tempt: Berties, choc peanuts, jelly babies etc).

With the light now fading fast, the Wellington Inn was passed and the shorts were encountered once again descending past the church with 3Sum and SatNav spotted working well. The usual suspect malingerers were given a tongue lashing as we steeled ourselves for the final frontier test.

Eventually, a cluster of lights could be discerned far ahead on the left giving rise to a faint hope that the haven of the footie club was at hand - especially as the heroic hour had now been attained. BroadS had a brief bad feeling that it was someone's conservatory (!) but then the OH appeared. In steady drizzle and 6.87 miles in the bag, we were back and by golly, Geronimo, the longs had Shirley earned their beer tonight.

A little later and Manopause enquired if anyone had seen SM Ellie who was MIA. Misguided and misinformed indeed was the Bat Hat presenter but since when has the truth got in the way of a DD Oh Dearly Wronged Hippos everywhere...

Inside the clubhouse, volunteer hosts Clive and big Dave were serving from the cold cabinet all manner of bottled favourites - Doom Bar, Hobgoblin and London Pride - and all at a wallet friendly £2.50 agogo and the Ipplepenners were scurrying around preparing the sarnies. Comfy cubbyholes were crammed and the usual TVH bubbling atmosphere built up in advance of the live entertainment - and that there Shirley was this evening Oh Dearly to be named and wrongly shamed...

DDs RAd by Manpig:

For the hares WJ & Erection - Manopause abstaining.

T Humper (Ceremonial Bat Hat) to Slobbadog after she had been missing for many weeks.

BB (Vampire bat Hat) to SM Ellie for not doing the long - but she did!

Manpig (Hashit shirt) to Ben which prompted a naming of Flasher - Ben: 'Bike light in rucksack flashed throughout the whole run but no-one told me. Hence the name, Flasher.'

Another naming for big Raf was given by our Polish correspondent Wigwam who decided on Pan Fart (loose Polish translation of Mister Good Luck!).

Final award was a big 400 Run badge to our Grand Master Piltdown who, shades of Teapot and Twin Buffers, refused to be hurried in the beer sampling stakes.

The Penners excelled with a hugely enjoyable and testing trail - some parts I'd never seen before and also what proved to be a great OD. A lot of hard work was much appreciated by us all. Thanks WJ, Manopause and Erection.

* Only the old stagers will recall the line from the 80s NBC show Hill Street Blues - Google it non goggleboxers.

** Kirk Douglas you fools

*** Reportedly banned from attending Tues/Wed SS (rum) at Paraprick's drum and intent on keeping a low profile.

ON ON to next week and Newtons Free House, Newton Abbot TQ12-1TP. (Wigwam)

TRULY 'A NIGHT TO REMEMBER' (2019) AND ALL IN ALL - A RUM DO

Run #1789 from The Park Inn Kingskerswell with Hare Paraprick

Not for nothing are Teign Valley known as 'the Party Hash' Oh Dearly Riproarious* and The Park Inn aka Hashing HQ provided ample proof for the saying last night.

So come on now, let's get a singin' straight away:

It was a night oh oh what a night

It was it really was such a night...

A rousing forty six made the circle:

Fallen Woman, Teapot, Winfield, Piltdown & Georgie, SM Ellie, BroadS, Beefy, Manopause, WJ, Erection, orienteers Ben, Hugo & Will, Forrest and Cridford Inn's Sarah, Shitfaced, 3sum, SatNav, Wigwam & Bobby, Coldtits, Hotlips & Zoot, Doris & Rambo, Paraprick, U Bend, Piddler, Going Down, Pisswell, Only Here, T Humper, Cums Too Late, I-Poo'd, Manpig, Fukarwi, Able, Aberystwyth Joe, Raf, Anita, Abcess, Gosia, Slip on Me, BB and a late arriving Dobby. Archangel missed the run but was in position A at the bar later.

It was to be a Game of Three Halves (four if you count the hard core party which rocked 'n rolled past midnight) and par for the course was Paraprick arriving pre circle mounted atop his street legal 1000cc quad cruiser - complete with trailer cage for the dogs.

Fallen Woman was in party mood straight from the get go, cheering every statement with enthusiasm and SatNav's posh grand 'pand'** kept the jocular circle amused.

The hare declared three L/S splits and, of course, the linchpin of the enterprise - a party stop chez Para - yes, it was going to be a Night to Remember...

Old cloth ears had failed to hear Paraprick mention that the trail was similar to his last soirée and lost vital ground in the early stages. The orienteers were away and gone and the solid [sic] pairing of WJ and Manopause caught a flyer and it Shirley was going to be a difficult run Raf...

Para was seen a few times on the quaddie with Cums2late riding pillion but though nominated, she just missed out on a DD.

The climb from Kerswell up to Coffinswell sorted the longs out big time and it was difficult to see who was where Winfield. Moto motoing downhill on the tarmac, WJ, Manopause and Aber. Joe (the lad can go a bit) were finally closed down and Manopause remarked how nice it was to see old BB and they had waited specially for him to catch up! That'll be the day Doris.

On a long straight climb, the FRBs could be seen, strung out up ahead: Beefy, Ben, Will, Hugo (back from injury and having a nightmare), MANPIG AND FUKARWI! What? I knew I wasn't going that well but how on earth had they managed to get that far in front?! It got worse, as on a scenic bridlepath descent, Wigwam was spotted up ahead, duking it out with Aber. Joe! What on earth was going on?

It seemed that it was all uphill to Para's gaff and it was a relief to finally turn into the drive with a good 5k covered. Manpig & Fukarwi came clean to reveal that they had taken a short split en routey and Wigwam also put up his hands though in truth he looked well able to contest the long course.

Oh what a table of tempting delights and hash bevvies was laid out for the happy hash house harriers and many a short were already ensconced and availing themselves of the hospitality. However, not wanting to risk a chill, I saluted and bailed after asking Para the way home. 'Turn right out of the drive, then immediately left and downhill past the lake and you're home.' came the reply BUT both Beefy and I were unaware that this was the final SHORT split - ahhhhh so.... sorry Beefy.

The saga of Shitfaced revealed that rum was on offer and it was an offer that could not be refused... the story fast became legend that would fade but slowly into hash myth:

The night they drove old Shitfaced down, and the hash horn was blowing

The night they drove old Shitfaced down, and the hashers were singin' they went

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la...

A mile and leisurely eight minutes later, the haven of HHQ was reached (good trail as shorts and longs were always quite close together)  and strangely, first to the bar were Beefy and the Bird..

Hunters Gold and Legend were gushing amber and clear from the taps (with Gun Dog in reserve), the footie was background colour and the atmosphere was buzzin' - yes, Oh Dearly Delighted, we were in hashing heaven.

The massed ranks of the hallelujah hash were at fever pitch as Teapot called order and Manpig - he of the pepper 'n salt fuzz - took up station and the order of the evening set by SM Ellie was three contenders for DD glory, Winfield taking the honours. Forrest was mercilessly harried by Archangel ('Is Manpig your b**ch, Forrest?') as he transferred the Hashit shirt back once more to Manpig, apparently the rightful owner of the award. Confusion (a TVH trademark) followed WJ's delivery of the Ceremonial Bat Hat to T Humper, though the words 'for being a lady' were vaguely discerned in the delivery. Celebrations aplenty were the order of the evening as Beefy got his 100 Badge and rounded off the awards quite nicely, thank you very much. Ah, nearly forgot, Bobby had three renditions of his Bobbiball song to accentuate the jollities.

Shitfaced finally made a belated entrance and it was evident that the rum ration had been slightly surpassed Shirley..

Some said Shitfaced was paralytic, I say he was supremely relaxed, smiling benignly at all with that trademark shitfaced look he has made his own. And, let us not forget Oh Dearly Inebriated - it is what we are about as HHH Teetolallers we Shirley are not. If it were 'A Night to Remember', then Captain Shitfaced was last seen on the bridge saluting as he went down in an alcoholic haze. All in all, a pretty rum do it was***...

Party animals 3Sum & T Humper presided in the after hours 'entertainment' and I won't divulge what it means to be T Humpered...

Well, in conclusion, I have to repeat my former observation, Paraprick - it truly was a Night to Remember. All the ingredients of a major hash success were there to be enjoyed. Thank you indeed for your efforts we chorus.

THE DDs

Run 1789 from The Park Inn Kingskerswell where on a great evening trail with Hare Paraprick who had provided a Drinks and nibbles Stop, which was voted "best in history" by many...before eventually!! returning for the DD Awards, which were presented to the following offenders:-

WINFIELD who was spotted draining every last drop from the Rum bottle..Hic!

T.HUMPER for being just A LADY! ?

MANPIG who confessed to laying FORREST'S "Trail of the Year" !

BEEFY who has at last reached his 100 fast Runs badge!

* riproarious (1821) was changed to riproaring in 1834

** 'Don't forget to give me a 'pand' if you're not members.'

*** It had to be done.

ON ON to next week and the Ipplepen Football Club TQ12 5TT with Wet Johnny.

A DE RIGUEUR EPIC OVER MOOR AND TOR, A LADIES' BATTALION & 'DON'T BITE, BEEFY!'

Run #1788  Mon 1st April Circle Lower Car Park Haytor Rocks: OD. Carpenters Arms Ilsington with Hare Poacher

The ever enduring TV hash soap opera resumed from the Haytor lower CP with perennial hare Poacher. For the FRBs and hardy longs it meant a good stretch out across moor and tor with the occasional gorse and bog thrown in for good measure. For the shorts and walkers perhaps a little trepidation - knowing the hare's liking for a de rigueur epic..

Cometh the circle 'neath the imposing Haytor and in spring's welcome light for the first time this year, assembled some three dozen hashers:

Broken Man & Fallen Woman, Teapot, Winfield, Piltdown & Georgie, SM Ellie, BroadS, Beefy, 69, Manopause, WJ, Erection, orienteers Ben & Will, Forrest and Cridford Inn's Sarah, Archangel, Shitfaced, 3sum, SatNav, Wigwam & Bobby, Coldtits, Hotlips & Zoot, Doris & Rambo, Twin Buffers, Polyfella, Able Semen, Ding Dong & dawgs, long absent Gobbler, Paraprick, U Bend (no Piddler?) and BB.

69 relayed the good news that Poacher had set off at 6:30pm to complete (or start?) the trail, leaving Cider behind. With no hare present, 69 gave out the trail info as two short trails and two long splits.

A nasty start to the test - uphill over uneven ground - had hashers struggling to get into a rhythm (thank gawd, thought it was just me).

Round the semi-scenic Haytor quarry and man made lake - complete with abandoned and rusted out machinery - we ventured, probing for the main direction of the trail.

A clever piece of trail laying saw the longs intermingle with the shorts for a while. Gaily and daintily stepping out was Fallen Woman with Winfield alongside and there was young U Bend,  hiding on the short - oh Shirley not!  A hasher like him, many times mentioned in deeds of derring-do... how had it come to this? Father Time is unrelenting Oh Dearly Susceptible.

Oh let me fall on the trail and be carried in glory back to the bar rather than submit to nature's unforgiving will..  No? Well please...

Out along the ancient tramway and towards Smallacombe Rocks did we trek and Ipplepeners WJ and Manopause were on a roll and uncannily kept choosing right at many a check.

Warming to the theme, habitual cries of encouragement and derision were heaped upon the long suffering longs [sic], prompting the usual counter retorts from Beefy. The quote of the evening came from Manopause who knew the ways of the warrior well Winfield: 'Don't bite, Beefy!'

The pivotal plot of the trail was unfolded and into the treacherous gorse reinforced bog we blundered. Poacher was out to make (April) fools of us all.

Slowed to a virtual crawl, the longs concertinaed and we Shirley were mobhanded to deal with almost any eventuality, Oh Dearly Aghast. Super scouts Ben and Will spearheaded the main body of Wet Johnny, Manopause, Beefy, BroadS, old hand Polyfella and BB plus a ladies' battalion of Ding Dong, SM Ellie and the very experienced local, Gobbler.

The marks became scarce and mightily elusive forcing the longs to backtrack and search for clues in the murderous morass. The diligence paid off but only up to a point as ultimately the mire consumed the plucky pack and many an eye was averted when the Bluebird began to wail.. 'My EPICS, my EPICS - ruined I say!'

A way out was spotted away in the distance beyond the killing ground - Holwell Tor and the quarry slip. Clearing the bog, a lone maniac shrieked dementedly: 'A check, a check, we're out!'

Some forty minutes into the run and just as some shorts were reportedly already back changing, another problem arose. The trail had gone cold yet again and the light was fast ebbing. Ding Dong disappeared from sight into the valley to the east and Ben and Will were also covering a lot of extra ground searching.  Beefy suddenly spotted that the Ipplepenners were missing - and they hadn't even said goodbye!

Atop Holwell and a check was found - just as a cry from the gloom revealed Poacher, resplendent in shorts and tee shirt and no head torch - hallelujah baby! We're saved!

At last we could resume at pace and with Poacher leading the way, we sped back to Haytor through an unnamed quarry gorge and finished with a downhill dash back to the car park. Olé!

Although we were out for up to an hour and a quarter, only about four miles was covered though Ben and Will boosted their mileage by running up from the pub and down again after their run.

TVH pretty much had the Carpenters to themselves and snug and comfy it was in this historical OD.  Dartmoor Legend and Hanlons Yellow Hammer were on tap as well as Scrumpy - to Poacher's delight and apparently the food was given the thumbs up.

Shitfaced - complete with Ceremonial Bat Hat - RAd the proceedings to add yet another string to his bow:

DOWNDOWNS

The first complete daylight run for SOME of us! even though Hare Poacher decided to make most of it a live trail!
Offenders Awards were presented by SHITFACED to....
S.M.ELLIE for getting lost on another Long trail.
WET JOHNNY for missing his special DD last week.
FORREST STUMP now still displaying the swing label on his latest Grizzly t.shirt
POACHER for his live trail that had us heading around in all directions!
Well done Poacher and thanks to the Carpenters for the excellent food!

Ben's strava notes on the run summed it up pretty well:  'Hashing through a gorse filled bog is never a good idea. Lost the trail far too many times. Fun.'  I'll second that. Thanks Poach for a great trail and a really good TV hash atmosphere in the Carpenters afterwards.

ON ON to next week and it's back to The Park Inn, Kingskerswell TQ12 5BQ. (Paraprick)

THE WRATH OF KHAN, SHITFACED ENTERS INTO LEGEND & THE UNHERALDED HASHER

Run # 1787 Mon 25th at The Paignton Sea Angling Assoc. Club, Cliff Rd. Paignton with Hares Grinder & Deep-throat.

A novel OD for TVH - not a pub but a club for our edification oh Dearly Unsuspecting.

Parking was a little problematic for late arrivals but a goodly number - around the magic forty - assembled outside the club including virgins a plenty: Son of Grinder aka Kieran; Lynne with returnee Adam; an unnamed lady from London and Joe from Aberystwyth who had only arrived in Torquay three weeks ago but had managed to find us courtesy of our fb page.

'Twas a virgin lay by our fleet o' foot Torbay AC hares and they outlined a six mile long, a five mile short (?) plus a walkers' trail. A beer/ss was added for our titillation and we were released in the direction of the pier Percy with hope in our hearts.

Having resided in Paignton as a whippersnapper (circa 1950 then) the back roads around Goodrington were very well known and, having a fair idea what the route was, I had great fun along the highways and byways but lost my one remaining popularity point along the way..

'I really don't want to go up Penwill Way!' I had confided to Deep Throat beforehand and had been given a rather sour look for my observation.

Shirley enough, exiting Goodrington and pottering past the train station, Penwill loomed large in the crosswires.  A little way up and Poacher/Cider could be seen hesitating - a cross - oh Shirley not! And he who certainly shall remain nameless had previously shouted to the longs as they turned off into Wheatlands suburbia: 'There's no way it's up there!' Not feeling that good with the pulse hovering over 180, the Dastardly one did a Maggie Thatcher* and pressed onwards and upwards - knowing that he would Shirley incur the Wrath of Khan** afterwards... sigh.

As anticipated, the longs weren't best pleased at the grand reunion atop Penwill and on we pressed down into Clennon woods.

Now we had all been faithfully following the L/S split markers and well laid the marks were, but  then we arrived at the junction of Goodrington Road and Hookhills Road and the great controversy of the run.

Having studied and compared Beefy's and Klingon's strava data, I think I have the answer but some might disagree and yes, I may be mistaken. Across the junction was an arrow pointing to Sugar Loaf which Poacher spotted and called the ON ON. No L/S mark could be seen so we went for it and apparently BroadS, Kieran, Aberystwyth Joe, Manopause, WJ and Beefy followed.

A few moments later (well minutes actually as I can't imagine that Shitfaced was that close, no disrepect intended) Klingon, escorting Shitfaced, were directed by hare Deep Throat up right onto Hookhills and thence down Broadsands Park Road and the savage trestled ascent of the last long section.

We can only imagine, with a mixture of horror and admiration, how Shitfaced - a hasher like him Harry - managed to get round without collapsing. Shirley, this drinker of drinkers had a most serious running problem to contend with on the night.  But 1 hour and 18 minutes later, Shitfaced staggered home with 5.68 miles in the bag. Remarkable, Shitfaced, just remarkable. You Shirley now have entered into the realms of legend.

Like a mirage, the SS appeared on the Goodrington promenade, manned by Grinder with all manner of drinks and snacks.  Just a scenic jog back to the club and with only 4.76 miles and 45 minutes running recorded, questions were already being asked.

Inside the club (after we had been buzzed in) we encountered a full house of anglers watching the England/Montenegro footie and a skittles match in full flow. Club regs. / licensing laws had all hashers sign in before availing themselves with either Bays or 6X.

Before embarking on the colourful DDs, mention must be made of a post circle arrival who, as usual, set off on a solo tour of the trail (shades of Archangel) but with the added impediment of having no kicked out checks to help - as most were marked in chalk on the tarmac. Five miles and nearly two hours later, Coldtits, bright and cheerful, was at the bar, unheralded and largely unnoticed. It's what hashing is all about isn't it...

I am most grateful (and relieved) for Winfield's DD observations and notes:

Offenders on the night were.....
WIGWAM (Vampire Bat hat) who on arrival had a pair of ladies briefs attached to his jacket.
PILTDOWN MAN (Hashit shirt) who was an excellent fit for the lost Norfolk Hash T.Shirt !
SHITFACED (Ceremonial Bat hat) who claimed to be the only Hasher to complete the 6 mile long?
WINFIELD who got himself lost after going round and round in Clennon Valley.
HARES DEEP THROAT and GRINDER for leading some astray although in the end it was a great evening!

Fate's fickle finger decided that I shouldn't suffer the lament of the final long split. (Deep Throat had suggested that it might be the finish of me - and knowing what it entailed, I concur.) The 'short' 5 miler resulted in some fast running for some of the longs, particularly BroadS, Aberystwyth Joe and young Keiran who managed to get round with a dud head torch.

Deep Throat and Grinder, you know what lads? I had a helluva good time out there and enjoyed every minute, big thumbs up. Also, sorry for my short cut - I promise not to do it again.

* Not for turning you fools.

** Deep Throat & Beefy

ON ON to next week and the Lower Car Park Haytor Rocks: OD. Carpenters Arms Ilsington TQ13 9RG  with Poacher.

The AWARDS NIGHT for 2018

#1786 a great trail from Hares Zoot and Hotlips at The Jolly Sailor East Ogwell.followed by good food and the DDs.
Our 2018 Awards winners were :-
Hasher of the Year...Hunk of Beef
Harriet " " " ..SM.Ellie
Hare " " " ..Shitfaced
Hash " " " ....Forrest Stump
Heroic Feat " " " .... T.Humper.
Newcomer " " " ...I.Pood
Pillock " " " ...Piltdown Man
Scribe " " ".....Bluebird.
On Down " " " ...The Park Inn
Our congratulations to the winners!
On-On to 2019!

THE KLINGON KLINGS ON, MANHORSE ROUTINE DOPE TESTED & CHAMPION CRIDFORD CHIPS

Run #1785 Monday 11th March from The Cridford Inn at Trusham with Forrest, Poacher & Fallen Woman.

What is it about ye olde Cridford Inn at Trusham - and why do we feel an almost mystic attraction to this ever popular OD? Can it be the ghostly calling of the mad nun or the bloodied Cavalier who both refuse to leave the blackened beamed interior of this ancient ale house or is it simply the promise of a Forrest trail [sic] within the excellent Trusham hashing territory?

No matter, my petulant penguins, let's do what has to be done and report on the trials, tribulations and comical disasters that befall our happy band each and every Monday eve...

Reassuringly, at the turn-off for tiny Trusham, Broken Man & Fallen Woman's millionaire camper could be seen parked on Trucker's field. Wending our way up possibly the most tortuous approach to an OD, Rambo and I were well in time to secure a prime parking space before the Ben Hur chariot carnage that inevitably occurs later.

Poacher was already parked and preparing to go out to check all was well (Trusham good old boys known to kick out a few marks for a laugh) and shortly after Forrest appeared looking as though he had just woken up (which he had) and had to be given a spare head torch as he had forgotten his.

Teapot called the roll at thirty two and after a little thought, they were as follows:

Fallen Woman, Broken Man, Forrest, Poacher, WJ., Manopause, Fukarwi, Broads, Rambo, Doris, Manpig, Archangel, Teapot, Shitfaced,
Coldtits, Soapy, Melon Picker, Ina, Sarah (virgin), 69, Only Here, Slip on Me, Warm Front (long absent returnee), Beefy, U Bend, Piddler, BB, SatNav, 3sum, Piltdown, Georgy P, Tesco's Finest. 32 Ole!

Forrest was understandably suffering from his Grizzly exertions and had help from serial trail layer Poacher AND Fallen Woman who was after all in situ. A long, short and medium plus walkers' trail were outlined along with a SS and with that we were dispersed into the Trusham wilds - longs/mediums to the right and walkers to the left.

Poacher (suspiciously noted with flour dispenser) & Cider were going to accompany us and at the second check the direction was confirmed. A steep ascent soon sorted the pack out and the longs/FRBs assembled and there was to be a surprise addition to our usual brave band - more on this later lads. Predictably (Fukarwi: 'She is almost a professional after all.') the slight figure of returnee Warm Front danced prettily into the lead with WJ, Fukarwi, Manpig, BroadS and the slow starting (caught at the back of the pack) Beefy strung out in Indian file behind.

Just after a mile into the trail and the L/S split took us hard a port into a field and then the funbegun [sic]. The longs had observed Poacher's laying pattern and were well aware of how spread out the marks were - one dot and nothing for a couple of hundred yards or so - and this was Shirley the case. Round and round the field we trekked searching for clues but none were to be had and that was the last time we saw Warm Front as she disappeared and no shouts could be heard from her direction.

Eventually WJ found the trail over a stile which he, who shall remain nameless, had completely missed - sigh. It was then a game of cat and mouse or rather hare and FRBs as we ran with the hare and took it in turns to check it out while the rest remained with Poacher.

It was shortly after that an addition to our select number was seen - Ina, and there she was mixing it with the hard men of the hash, good on you girl! Beefy's snap at the SS shows her with Manpig, Fukarwi, WJ, BroadS, BB and Poach. Manpig was a revelation, still rolling after four hours of Grizzly mud the day before. If he had been a horse (Manhorse?) he would Shirley have been routine dope tested for such an outrageous performance. WJ did observe later, however, that Manpig was starting to walk like Jack Sparrow! Gave us a laugh didn't it lads! A quick photo op for Fukarwi who was snapped, face mud bespattered after another fall to add to his CV - good boy Fukarwi!

Poacher decided that he wasn't going to leave the large plastic bin of sweeties (the mediums apparently searched in vain for it) and took it with him as we headed back onto the trail.

Getting towards the end and young Ina who had been Klinging on* for dear life to the relentless longs asked if I wanted her to move over to overtake. 'Don't be silly, I can hardly keep up with you!' was the gasped reply.

It was quite a relief to descend back down the hill into Trusham and the OH and though we had been out for over an hour (54 minutes moving) we had only covered 4.8 miles - such was the severe shiggy we had encountered out there. Nice one hares, we enjoyed, didn't we?

A tale of confusion was related regarding the walkers' trail and Teapot's name was mentioned - something about the trail was too long (less than a mile I think) and he was turning back? Oh well, I suppose that'll be our fate in thirty years time, Teapot...

Never mind, into the oldest pub in Devon and there Shirley** was a welcome waiting Winfield from the new management. Old favourites Legend, Jail and Otter were on tap and a feast for an army was waiting in the wings: Sausages in their thousands AND the triumph of many a year - the chips to die for. Now TVH are very discerning about their chips and expert chip critics abound and these chips could not be bettered, Beefy. So let it be written, so let it be recorded - the Cridford chips were champion!

AWARDS & NAMING
Fallen Woman RAd proceedings and the awards went to:
Manpig (Hashit shirt complete with prized Grizzly number) to ARCHANGEL for not running the Grizzly or laying the trail.
Forrest (Ceremonial Bat hat) to Sarah (wasn't she sweet?) for using her phone torch to see the way on trail.
Shitfaced (Vampire Bat hat) to Ina for 'scrounging lifts'.
Ina was due for a naming so the DD was combined and celebrated joyously as she was given the hash handle of KLINGON! (Sci-fi fan to those who weren't there)
EXTRA DDs (courtesy Forrest's wallet) to the hares AND Bobbiball as Forrest wanted to hear the song - sigh. Poor Bobby wasn't expecting it (too many chips) and struggled.

A really great evening and the highlights were: A well thought out and tough trail; the new Klingon Klinging on grimly to the FRBs; the Cridford chips; Manpig's remarkable recuperative powers and of course the Klingon celebrations - I've seldom seen anyone so happy about their hash name, lovely to see.

* It had to be done.
** Only three Shirleys Bobby as I've been celebrating quite heavily after Day 1 at Cheltenham!

ON ON to next week and the prestigious 2018 AWARDS NIGHT 7:15 The Jolly Sailor East Ogwell (TQ12 6AW) Hares Zoot & Hotlips

HARES ON A MISSION, FUKARWI'S FAMOUS FALL & THE STAR NOW HASH FRIENDLY

Run #1784 Monday 4th March from The Star at Liverton with Soapy & Melon Picker

We came back, a hash like us, to The Star at Liverton, to see if there was still a welcome in the valley. Whispers of a previous landlord who had refused to give DDs (Oh Shirley Sacrilege!) and other suspicions were swiftly allayed and proved to be only a distant nightmare - but in my eagerness to get to the point, I shall return, Douggie Mac style to the hospitality evaluation later, mes miserables..

A cold and miserable March evening, gaily assisted by passing showers and the hares had Shirley drawn the short straw tonight, T Humper. The noteworthy and rare absentee was Teapot (also Wiggers - did he know something we didn't?) and his call to order bugle (drat! I left mine at home) so from memory alone, the following were recalled at the chilly circle:

Going Down, Piddler, Rambo, Doris, Piltdown, Georgie P, Bobby (only here for the promised beer*), U Bend, Piddler, SM Ellie, BroadS, Soapy, Melon Picker, Erection, WJ, Manopause, Poacher, Ina, T Humper, Comes Too Late, I Poo'd, 3Sum, Shitfaced, Ben, Hugo, Will, Colditz, Archangel, Tesco's Finest (AH3 refugee), Forrest, Manpig, Fukarwi, BB, Wetfart, Only Here, Slip on Me, Beefy, Able, Hotlips, Zoot. Thirty nine hashers true and please excuse any omissions.

After Only Here had given the answer to Piltdown's question, the hares gave their version of what lay in store for us out there in the woods: Three L/S splits, a walkers' trail plus a concealed SS.

Mayhem materialised soon after the off with hashers milling around in the housing estates surrounding The Star. It was of course that wonderful hashing ingredient known as a Silly Sod and that we Shirley were with the FRBs the chief sufferers. Those Flying Orienteers, Hugo, Ben & Will, surged back and forth in ever increasing desperation as they sought escape to the trail true.

The pattern was fast becoming evident - the hares were on a mission to foil the FRBs and faithful to hash order, keep the pack together and I mean together for ever - ARGHHHHH! NOOOOOO! A fate worse for the FRBs than a pub with no beer.

Ten times thwarted, the FRBs, now quite shaken, formed up into suspicious little huddles at each of the multitudinous checks, leaving the scouting reports to the FOs.** Light relief was provided by SM Ellie who struck a fanciful pose at a check which was admired by some.

At last the way out into the boondocks was found and across the rain sodden fields we squelched en routey for the woods and the torment they would Shirley bring...

We shall not dwell on the despicable deviations that were heaped upon us therein and the gentle hashers in the pack were aghast at the screams of rage heard at close hand as frustrated FRBs called On Back!

Poacher/Cider were seen at various times charging towards the FRBs from unlikely directions and even though Forrest & Muttley took two short trails, they only succeeded in gaining a few yards - such was the confusion reigning rampant, Rambo.

Round and round and back and forth we were led until marks were discovered that looked suspiciously fresh. 'They're live laying lads!' snarled a gnarled [sic] FRB and sure enough Shirley, the culprit was discovered, Der Zauberlehrling*** himself, shuffling furtively along with flour dispenser in hand. Yes, Oh Dearly Distraught, Melon Picker was on mischief bent. 'I bet you don't know where you are!' was taking the proverbial and sniffing disdainfully, WJ, accompanied by Manopause, Manpig, Fukarwi, Beefy and BroadS continued doggedly along the branch strewn, ultra shiggified trail.

It was inevitable that weakened and weary warriors would succumb to the treacherously slippery elements, Erica and three fallers were duly hospitalised. Going Down reportedly went down and Fukarwi had a famous slowmo, stuntman style tumble descending a steep trail - rather you than me old buddy. Manpig's fall could have been very nasty had it not been for his nose taking the full force of the jarring impact. A wispy trail of blood from said hooter prompted a triumphant cry: 'Bloodied hasher!'

All said and done, the FRBs just about survived the mauling that had been dished out and mentioned in dispatches were BroadS (advised by Coldtitz and Bobby that the 'urine sample' joke was a quote too far though appreciated by Forrest) who seemed to revel in the mud; WJ & Manopause who took the Mick sprinting in to The Star's CP; Beefy with combat trousers who ran the estimated 5 mile long and then cycled back home in the murk; Orienteers Ben & Hugo somehow managed to discover a trail even before Melon P had laid it; determined ladies Going Down and Coldtitz and pole assisted Piddler who was going faster than some of the longs in that final desperate mudbath of a track. Te saluto - I salute you all!

Inside The Star and TV had all of the eating area to themselves, leaving the locals to enjoy their ale in peace. Landlord Brian had taken over last September and with 40 years in the trade certainly knew his beer, giving me a mini tutorial and insight into the tricks of the trade. We were well looked after by Jess (the taller) and Amy. Despite being a tied house (Heineken-Punch) stocking of beers was largely left to the discretion of the landlord and Bombardier 4.1abv, Tribute 4.2abv and the ale of choice Proper Job IPA 4.5abv were ours for the asking though the Proper Job soon ran out!

DOWNDOWNS
RAd by Manpig, the following were awarded:
Joint DD for Soapy & Melon Picker
Forrest (Vampire Bat hat) to Shitfaced for being chuffed at kicking out his first ever check.
Shitfaced (Ceremonial Bat Hat) back to Forrest for reason unknown! (Strange that the word 'nepotism' was mentioned wasn't it Fukarwi?)
BB (Hashit Shirt) to Manpig for his (bloody) fall

Long after most of the hash had dispersed, a hard drinking core (Shitfaced - naturally, Manopause, WJ, Erection, Slip on Me, 3sum & Only Here - doubly naturally) remained and laughs galore were had. Yes, another good Monday evening in Hash central.

Can I be brutally honest with you my brethren? No? Well I will anyway. At the time, I had a torrid (WJ liked that term) and tormented time out there which delighted Soapy - grrr. However, looking back on it in the sober, harsh light of day, my view has ameliorated. The harder the trail, the muddier the trail, the longer the trail, the better I like it - despite this particular edition being patently unsuitable and thankfully MP advised against wearing the Nike EPIC gliders. The several off trail spurs were cunning indeed and the technical expertise required for incorporating a 'live' hare was impressive so, yes, it was a very good trail hares and set us up for a grand evening in a now hash-friendly OD. I'll leave you with a little quote which you might recall from 1940:

'Never in the field of TV hashing were the hares seen by so many for so long' ... No? Well please...

* His namesake nag (Good Boy Bobby) had romped home earlier, swelling the beer kitty.
** Flying Orienteers of course
*** The Sorceror's Apprentice

ON ON to next week and The Cridford Inn (TQ13 0NR) Trusham with Forrest Stump

A CHARLTON HESTON AT THE TALLY HO!

Run #1783 Mon 25th Feb at The Tally Ho! Littlehempston, Totnes with Hares Coldtitz & Bobbiball

It was back to the charming Tally Ho! at Littlehempston that the TV bandwagon sallied to be regaled by new tenants Mike and 'Kickboxer' Kelly, not forgetting their adorable Basset hound Betty. Are you sitting comfortably? Then once more unto the breach, dear friends all..

Chariots of the TVH legion crammed into the compact CP of the former Bolton Arms* for what would subsequently be known as the Charlton Heston** hash, Harry. Oh Shirley yes, Dearly Oblivious, this EPIC in the making would give Ben-Hur and the Ten Commandments a run for their money. So, as Calvera*** would say, 'Read on' or was it 'ride' on? Never mind, back to the car park I say..

Famous faces familiar were espied in tantalising glimpses before being swallowed up again in the eerie swirling maelstrom of forty five assembled hashers.

And there was Beefy at last, he came back, a hasher like him. Big Raf back from a footballing shoulder injury; Ipplepenners Roxanne & young Harry****, Manopause, Erection and WJ; Forrest with his new, highly secret, supersonic ski prototype; virgins Tom, Mark, Bert (and returnee Ernie [sic] who drove the fastest milk cart in Tamar H); Poacher in repaired chariot; the National X country heroes Deep Throat and Grinder and, as befitting an EPIC, a supporting cast of dozens... Wait for it, it's Shirley showtime.

Procurator Piltdown demanded order and predictably had an Oscar themed question for the plebeians packed before him, Harry. Difficult to see what was occurring in the maddened throng, but eventually the director of the EPIC, one Mary Sturgess (yes, and possibly a distant relative of that director of epics aplenty, John Sturges) stepped up to the Roman oche accompanied by a bewheeled Bobby. Already an air of excitement prevailed and the crowd hushed in anticipation.. (I think it's going quite well so far SM Ellie, what do you think?)

The EPIC edict was proclaimed: FOUR TRAILS! A long, medium and short plus the now obligatory walkers' route (as fanatically supported by Teapot, Wet Fart, Only Here and other unnamed suspects) and the estimated distances elicited gasps from some - especially the Magnificent Seven Mile long HA! Also included was a Sherry and Cheese stop somewhere out there in the wilds, Winfield.
A prancing idiot could be discerned on the periphery of the crowd displaying his £140 Nike EPIC React Flyknit road cruising shoes to all and sundry - more on this and the EPIC fail of the Supersonic Ski foot later HA! I'm enjoying this rubbish now...

If he had only bothered to listen, the Pillock would have heard Bobby reveal the intricacies of the extra loop for the longs which a nameless buffoon had assisted in laying two hours previously..
The gates of the ancient stockade were flung open and a myriad array of dazzling head torches appeared at the entrance and first check.

Cunning indeed was the hares' design which flummoxed all before the longs surged out of the woods by the Pig & Whistle and across the main road, Berry Pomeroy bound.
Poacher/Cider led, pursued by a resurgent Beefy, Deep Throat and a t-shirt clad Nike EPIC cruising Bat. They were joined by serial FRB Whisperer, (didn't see him at the circle Cyril) Grinder and Forrest's buddy Tom. Out onto the road (becycled Bobby: 'How did you get here so quickly?) and downhill the Nike EPIC shoes kicked in (I get paid 10P every time I write that) taking the Bat to the front (yes, it was a race you fools) and prompting a 'Here we go!' from Deep Throat who, along with Grinder, Shirley wanted an easy time of it after Saturday's exertions (and beer celebrations afterwards).

All along, down along, out along lea coursed the merry longs and many twists and turns did they make as they inexorably closed with the ruins of Berry Pomeroy castle and the riddle of the loop..
Bobby: 'Don't ask questions Bluebird, just lay the loop down there, turn right onto the road, round the lake and back up to the castle. I'll meet you there.'

'Well, we suddenly came across the loop after already going round the lake from another direction and knowing we were now going down to the lake yet again, I halted Beefy, Manpig and Wet Johnny and warned that we were going round for a second lap. Seven minutes later, we arrived at the same point.' Aghast was the Bat: 'I'm NOT going down there AGAIN!' But Beefy had finally solved the riddle. 'Yes, we WILL go down there AGAIN but we'll turn left this time and that will let us escape this disaster you have got us into!' We had now been joined by Ernie, Bert and Sugar Puff (come to think about it, where did WJ and Manpig disappear to?) and you know what? Beefy was right and there was Coldtitz and Bobby, manning the Sherry & Cheese stall and asking where on earth we had been.

Now before I forget and I know you're dying to find out, Dearly Inquisitive, what had happened to our Hash Hero Forrest - he of the secret supersonic ski foot? We-ell, he covered about two miles before deciding that it just wasn't going to work and returned to change back to the old ski foot - four miles in the bag. But that wasn't the end of it as Forrest then set off again onto the trail and I still haven't found out how many miles he covered in the end but he did arrive back at the pub a long time after the DDs. Back to the drawing board for the supersonic ski.. Rebuilding the Bionic Forrest is taking more time than we thought.

I also heard tell of an alarming tale regarding Slip on Me. Details are scarce but apparently she had to be rescued after somehow taking the long trail! Quite understandably, Slip on Me didn't want to dwell on the scary details.

The Nike EPIC shoes were a rip roaring success - up to the time where their limitations were exposed in the mired depths of Gatcombe Brook just below the A381 ... sigh.

The Tally Ho! was snug and welcoming with good old Dartmoor Legend on tap along with Red Rock Dark Ness 4.5 ABV (excellent DD ale) and an ale I couldn't recall sampling (Archangel: 'You're slipping Bluebird.') Exeter Brewery's organic Avocet ale 3.9 ABV. Hash chilli was available and Mike and Kelly did us proud, didn't they just.

Coldtitz and EPIC Director Mary Sturgess, ably assisted by Bobby had scripted a classic trail which we enjoyed immensely and was well worth their efforts even though you both know that it was nearly the end of me!

TALLY HO! DD AWARDS
Poacher (Hashit shirt) to Bluebird for getting his prized new shoes ruined on the muddy trail.
Sugar Puff (should have been Horsey Horseface hat) to Camel Toe for forgetting to bring the Horse Head Hat from last week.
Bobbiball (prized Ceremonial Bat Hat) to Shitfaced for overtaking someone on Trail at last!
Hare Coldtitz for requesting lager from the pub as the best drink for the Hash.
Hare Bobbiball using his bike to lay the those confusing trail marks.

*Bolton Arms from 1850-1955
**An EPIC you fools
***You're not paying attention, the Mexican bandit from The Magnificent Seven.
****Roxanne's little lad (still trying to make sense of it all).

ON ON to next week and the Star at Liverton with Soapy & Melon Picker.