๐จ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐
๐๐๐๐๐
๐พ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ฐ'๐ ๐บ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐
๐๐๐๐๐
๐ท๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ฐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐บ๐๐๐๐'๐ ๐๐๐๐
๐ป๐๐ ๐๐๐๐
๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐
Yes,
Oh Dearly Dry, starv-ed of the liquid of life, inspiration was absent.
Delusion, already alcoholess fermenting, became rampant as I thought of
exotic excuses to explain the absence of words this week.
But
what would they Shirley think, the loyal and trusting fabled few as
they drifted away - perhaps a little disappointed, who knows? So
(Cruise) without further Much Ado About Nothing:
๐ถ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐, ๐
๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐;
๐ถ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐
๐๐๐
...
That's
better, I think I can continue now Shirley, so read on my one faithful
reader and rejoice (or despair) that all is not now lost:
A
lone chariot with Manopause at the wheel was tethered in that wild and
lonely Canal car park out in deepest Teigngrace. There was nothing else
to do and Manopause became aware of a chariot describing complicated
manoeuvres out on the highway. Twice it passed before finding the
entrance. It could only be one hasher, and He who should not be nam-ed
finally nosed alongside.... sigh.
My first natter with another hasher for some time and merry was the discourse until they arrived...
And arrive they did as they had FB pledged.
They trickled in from the hills and the valleys; from town, village and hamlet seeking redemption and solace.
Tricky
seeing those in attendance but finally think I have everyone including
dear Coldtits who arrived late but not as late as Archangel who started
his run on Tuesday morning but play the game he Shirley did, eventually:
GM
Shitfaced, Teapot, Piltdown, Georgy P, SatNav, Triple Jump, Gaga4It,
Steph, Pisswell, T Humper, I-Poo'd, S M Ellie, Able, Well Hopped, Big
End, Wet Johnny, Erection, Manopause, Beefy, ManPig, Deep Throat,
Grinder, Artful Dogger, Wide Receiver, Slip on Me, Natalie, Coldtits,
BB and Screwed with Bella.
Had
it been but thirty five days since we all gathered by the river*? It
seemed more than that to our close-knit and hash-starved band.
๐๐๐ ๐ฉ๐๐ฉ๐ฉ๐๐ง๐๐ ๐จ๐ฉ๐๐ฃ๐๐๐ง๐ ๐ง๐๐๐จ๐๐ ๐๐ฉ ๐ก๐๐จ๐ฉ
๐๐ช๐ง ๐ฉ๐ง๐ค๐ช๐๐ก๐๐ ๐ฉ๐๐ข๐๐จ ๐ฅ๐๐ง๐๐๐ฅ๐จ ๐ฃ๐ค๐ฌ ๐ฅ๐๐จ๐ฉ
๐ผ ๐ข๐๐๐ค๐ง ๐๐ก๐ค๐ฌ ๐ฉ๐๐ค๐ช๐๐ ๐ข๐๐ฉ๐๐๐ฃ๐ ๐จ
๐ผ๐ฅ๐ง๐̀๐จ ๐ฉ๐ง๐๐๐ก ๐ฌ๐ ๐๐๐ฃ๐ฃ๐ค๐ฉ ๐๐ง๐๐ฃ๐ !
๐๐ฃ๐ ๐ฉ๐๐๐ฃ๐ ๐ฌ๐'๐ก๐ก ๐จ๐ฉ๐ช๐๐๐ค๐ง๐ฃ๐ก๐ฎ ๐๐๐๐๐ฃ๐
๐๐ค ๐ ๐๐๐ฅ ๐ค๐ฃ ๐๐๐จ๐๐๐ฃ๐ ๐ฉ๐ค ๐ฉ๐๐ ๐๐ฃ๐
The
Grand Master reminded us how to circle up and offered up a question**
(with no promise of a rewarding beer as there wuz no beer to be had) to
the chilled cohort patiently waiting with frosty breath. Hares were
requested for upcoming trails and then Screwed was asked to elucidate
the intricacies of this, her virgin lay.
Three
trails to satisfy all tastes and abilities: A walkers' pick me up
(hopefully not) of two miles or so; a short of three plus miles and a
long of five or more miles. We had previously been warned of mud, mud,
glorious mud, so were prepar-ed Shirley.
The
last but certainly not least instruction was 'No checks out there!' and
we were summarily despatched into the Teigngrace mud.
All
of five yards of terra tarmac and then it was skatey-skiddy time
off-road. A Torbay AC club outing up front as Deep Throat and Grinder
formed up with Wide Receiver and Wet Johnny and stretched the
metaphorical rubber band ahead of a clod-hoppered and one-eyed Bird,
Artful
Dogger, complete with doggy Reuben, were getting organized and a
combat betrousered Beefy was starting to gather up a head of steam [sic
naturally].
Holding
the reserve head torch in one hand was not a good idea as soon it could
not be operated owing to the finger numbing cold, glove time already
Eddy?
Some
way out, deep in the boondocks, a bugle was sounded - yes, Oh Dearly
Impressed, Teapot was out and about, determined to get an infusion of
hashing.
Soon
we were spread out and some were isolated, but the trail twisted and
turned along the canal banks and, as others, I found entertainment and
contact with other hashers along the way.
Wide
Receiver was a hundred or so yards up the track and pottering along,
enjoying the scenery but even at his leisurely pace, it took a sustained
160 BPM*** effort to gain contact.
Passing
by the ancient railway track, Wide pointed out the strange 'rocket'
lying close to the disused railway. It was a veritable and unexplained
mystery and we tarried awhile with Coldtits. But what's this? The
appearance of Erection who had been like an itch I couldn't scratch for a
couple of miles astern. Abandoning Penner buddy Manopause (unfit and
presumably on the short?) Erection was evidently rockin' and rollin' en
routey.
The
trio set off again across the fields speckled from afar with twinkling
urban lights and the terrain was rugged and shoe-suckingly muddy but at
least the hands were warm again.
We
were never far from the beautiful, the beautiful river [sic] but Deep
Throat ('On a mission' according to WR) got closer than anyone, nearly
careering into the icy depths at his frenetic pace... sigh.
Piltdown
and Georgy (out and about again after fall) plus hash doggy moved over
obligingly away from the electric fence as we overtook and soon we
turned for home.
The
FRBs were waiting and tales of derring-do were bandied about. ManPig
and SM Ellie had somehow contrived to miss the long and a stewards
enquiry ensued to determine the whereabouts of the river bridge and
whether all had gone over it.
But never mind, we hashed and we had fun - full stop.
*There's almost always a river nearby at our hashes.
**When did the canal close? Apparently in 1937
***Beats Per Minute - anything over 150 is heart attack area for the Bird.
๐ฃ๐ข๐ฆ๐ง๐ฆ๐๐ฅ๐๐ฃ๐ง
Reflecting
on the evening, there was great satisfaction derived. We had the usual
excitement of the pre-circle gathering, then the trail itself which was
excellently marked throughout and on horse racing going I would describe
as 'heavy'. For a virgin trail lay, Screwed (with Bella) discharged her
duties like an old hand, checking the marks beforehand, monitoring on
trail and waiting for all hashers to return.
There
was a few minutes of discussing the trail afterwards in the car park
before Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow, our craving for the TV hash
assuaged for now.
The
temperature dipped markedly as Manpig and I waited for the safe return
of Coldtits and an air frost glazed the tarmac and remaining cars,
freezing my car boot lock solid. A Winter's Tale indeed this night but
so well done Screwed - and the gallant Bella of course. A great deal of
effort and well-received by all who took part.
๐ฃ๐ข๐ฆ๐ง ๐ฃ๐ข๐ฆ๐ง๐ฆ๐๐ฅ๐๐ฃ๐ง
BroadS (knee injury) had wisely opted out to be on the safe side but why weren't you there 69 and Para?
๐ข๐ก
๐ข๐ก to next week from the Parish Centre CP Church End Rd,
Kingskerswell, Newton Abbot which is about 50 metres up (towards Newton
Abbot) from our usual car parking space in Church Meadow. Trail lay by
our hasher on the spot, ManPig! Take care everybody.