HURLED HORSE HEAD HAIR HAVOC & FAREWELL TO JACKIE

 

Run #1902 from the Red Rock Brewery, Humber with Well Hopped, Dad, Big End and Shitfaced

 

HARES: Big End, Well Hopped, Dad & Shitfaced

 

Who wuz there: Big End, Well Hopped, Shitfaced, Teapot, Piddler, Pollyfella, Bluebird, Beefy, Wet Johnny, Manopause, Threesum, Piltdown-Man, Georgie-Porgy, Smellie, Broadshit, Strap-On, Coldtits, Wetfart, Man-Pig, Cheerio-Beerio (& Dave the sausage dog), Archangel, Only Here for the Beer, Fallen Woman, Swinger and Ernie (fastest milk cart) from TamarH3.

 

Who wasn't: Ned, Bobbiball - but he did mange to return the horse's head hat!

 

THE CIRCLE

Shitfaced reminded us that subs were due and then moved swiftly onto a proposed distillery tour. Currently scheduled for 26th February at circa £15 a head. This will include whisky and gin tasting. If we get decent numbers, say around 20, then the distillery will put on a barrel of beer for us; maybe an extra £3 a head but this translates to 4 pints of beer each. This is on top of whiskey and gin. What can possibly go wrong?

 

Over to the Hares. The trail had been laid the previous day by Big End and Well Hopped and Well Hopped's dad. Instructions had been provided to Shitfaced regarding laying the Walkers' trail.

The divide and conquer trail laying meant that there were small parts of the trail that may not join up perfectly. This had been compounded by overnight rain which had washed out a number of marks. 

 

"Never fear", Big End and Well Hopped had been out earlier in the evening and put big arrows at all the important junctions. "You will know where you are", were the reassuring last words of the Hare before we embarked upon the relaid trail. Shorts were advertised as about one and a half of your English country miles; Shorts, about four and a half; Longs 6.03 miles (if you did not stray from the marked route....ahem!

 

THE TRAIL

It may have rained overnight, but the day's strong winds had dried out the trail very nicely. Exiting the brewery, it was a right turn and the first check outside Lindridge Park. It wasn't long before the trail was located to our right taking us up through the tiny hamlet of Humber and the first Long/Short split.

The Shorts and the Walkers went right and up the public footpath known as Three Trees Lane. This took them up to Little Haldon and Teignmouth Golf Course. The Longs carried on and took the next public footpath that leads to Luton and rejoins tarmac outside The Elizabethan Inn. Then it was a long climb up to the golf club; the same long climb that we did on Piltdown Man's back in May; one of our first post lockdown trails.

 

Of course, this time it was dark. Very dark. I had not charged up my torch battery and, worse still, I had left my spare battery in the car. There is a saying comprising the five P's - Prior Planning Prevents Pisspoor Performance. Oh how I wish that I'd adhered to this mantra as I had to turn my torch off at every opportunity to save power.

 

Never mind, we were on tarmac and, as we climbed up towards the golf course, I could see torchlight. It was Well-Hopped and Swinger. This bit of road is a long uphill pain in the a**e. However, on the upside, it is fairly straight. It wasn't long before more torchlight appeared in front of me. This was Bluebird and Pollyfella. 

 

I got to within 15 feet of them as we came to the second Long/Short split at the first crossroads. Oblivious to their pursuer, Pollyfella and Bluebird opted for the Short.

 

Man-Pig went straight ahead only to bump into a returning Beefy. No marks. We had overshot the arrow that took us diagonally across part of the golf course and through the golf club car park.

Next, it was a short downhill and a right turn into a small car park and the footpath through the woods to the picnic area where Bobbiball had his birthday drink stop last May. 

 

Without illumination, I was wholly reliant on Beefy for assistance. Progress was slow through the woods and it wasn't long before Swinger, Broadshit and Well Hopped caught us up. Just as well really as, without the Hare, we would all have missed the little loop back into White Well wood before rejoining the Shorts' trail.

 

A 400 yard downhill stretch of road brought us to the public footpath near Higher Radway Farm. This is a steep descent across a field and then a footpath that brings you out and onto Teign View Road in the upper reaches of Bishopsteignton. An arrow to the right took us up towards Clanage Cross. Would we be passing through the cemetery or would we be dropping down onto Forder Lane?

 

A blurred mark to our left looked like it had been scrubbed out but it was a mark nevertheless. Down the paved steps towards Radway Road. More marks, but odd marks. Long arcs of flour. These looked to have been laid from a moving car. We continued our descent through the housing estate losing sight of all marks along the way.

 

At this point, we were oblivious to the fact that we were being chased by a screaming Big End...."On back! On back!". We never heard him. Nor did we see Swinger and Well Hopped again until the pub. Defiantly, and in the face of no marks at all (after all, we weren't on trail), the Pig, Beefy and Broadshit forged their own trail back to the brewery.

 

By the time we reached Colway Cross, we picked up the marks again. This led us behind the half dozen cottages that form Ashwell and then diagonally across a field to exit onto a lane with a large "OH" in flour. Our decision to follow our own imaginary marks probably added another mile to our trail. Oh well, C'est la vie.

 

My thanks to Beefy for being my guiding light for the majority of the trail. Additionally, my apologies for omitting him from the list of last week's recipients of Down-Downs. Mea culpa.

Many thanks MP and now, whether you like it or not:

 

BACK TO THE RED ROCK BABY

It was just a drop down the hill to Shaldon bridge and then a tootle along the Bishopsteignton road before the conundrum of the ascent to the Red Rock Baby ranch house. The aged Bird did not want any chariots pestering from the rear, so when one appeared in the rear view mirror, the Bird took evasive action.

 

Savagely did he slew to the left outside the Cockhaven Manor but the tailing chariot did not pass, merely hesitating until reluctantly it seemed, proceeding onwards.

 

Inside that chariot was Wetfart who muttered: 'It's that Pillock Bluebird!' as he passed. Sigh.

 

Safely gathered into the brewery grounds, the Bird ventured inside the ranch house. Jackie immediately cried: 'Sorry, but I have no veggie pasties tonight!' 'No matter, I have brought a cheese and brown sauce sarnie!' came the triumphant rejoinder. HA! Don't you love it when a plan comes together... No? Well...

 

On The Comeback Trail (2020) but on only ten miles a week, the Bird weighed up his trail options.

(a) Go at a snail's pace and not be mentioned in despatches or 

 

(b) go Blazing Saddles (1974) whistling Dixie for as long as the chassis survived. The question simply was: Did I feel lucky, well did I, punk?

 

Sent into the Humber wilds on a chilly but dry evening, enthusiasm seemed in short supply. The grand exception being an unlikely candidate who, operating at 6:40 pace hit the make your minds up first check at the junction. Barely pausing, the Bird winged it right, oh yes, Dearly Doubtful, a rare thing to see, actually checking it out! On one, on two - ON ON! The Bird was only on!

 

Up the metalled road fled he and glory be, the L/S split veered left, continuing on level tarmac and not up the dreaded hill of woe.

 

There was but one taker, Beefy, who moved easily alongside the thrashing Bird. For a mile and a half they kept company - until Beefy was satisfied that the Bird seemed in no immediate danger of collapse - and then Beefy drifted effortlessly away into the night.

 

The light that burns twice as bright burns half as long and the Bird had burned so very brightly..

Fearfully looking behind, flickering head torches were discerned and the white flag was hoisted.

Pollyfella came across a sorry sight, the Bird sitting on a bank but not quite deceased. Sufficiently recovered, the duo continued on impulse power only (Pollyfella injured) but searching for the exit and the final L/S split.

 

Just short of the split, a clammy hand reached out towards the dread duo. Cloaked in darkness, The Night Visitor (1971 starring Max von Sydow as the mad axe murderer- highly recommended) was at large and had relentlessly closed in on the hapless hashers in front. Just as contact was about to be made, Pollyfella and the Bird sheered off right and the claw was withdrawn - whoa! That was a close one.

 

A clever trail indeed as we emerged back onto the first L/S split and the OH, well laid the hares!

The stern line by MP:

 

The Down-Downs (Bluebird to draft properly....don't forget anybody!)

 

RED ROCK BABY DOWN-DOWNS

Oh how rip-roarious were the DD's and confusion reigned unbridled in the snug and welcoming confines of the ranch house.

 

We thanked the Red Rock Baby for the beer (£2.75 a pint and Wetfart was in hash heaven) and the party got underway.

 

SM Ellie was first up with the Hallowed Homing Horse Head - kindly returned by Bobby but sporting what seemed to be a double hernia (some idiot had ripped the stuffing out both sides!) which caused mayhem with the eaters and drinkers alike.

 

SM Ellie hadn't got any stories and by rights should have worn it herself but chose to hurl the horse hat across the void and select any unfortunate hasher it should alight upon. ARGHHH! A shower of the strange substance cascaded and contaminated as the hat fell into Piddler's pasty. Understandably, Piddler failed to see the humour in the crash landing and refused to participate.

 

He who should not be named, retrieved the head and projected it in the opposite direction with even more disastrous consequences (some said it was a perfect lob).

 

KERPLUNK! The space travelling horse head alighted smack bang onto Archangel's pasty and the horse hat hurler thought it prudent to duck and conceal his identity. Archangel took it quite well and a note for "Tesco's Finest" - a reference to Tesco's ready meals being made from horse meat and downed the half before resuming consuming.

 

Secondly summoned was the hero of last week's caberathlon, one Beefy McCaber and he had a surprise award in hand - a Bat Hat Baby! 

 

Oh Dearly How I've Missed You, how long has my baby languished in some moorland cubbyhole? And there to greet my baby was the Supreme Bat Hat, now fully vindicated from the outrageous slurs heaped upon his kind by a flawed humanity.

 

But what was this? The keeper of the Bat Hats stepped forward, bizarrely attired in jeans and body warmer and babbling (as usual) inanely about some film he was portraying. Only one hasher, Broads, recognized the apparition as being Swan (Michael Beck) from The Warriors (1978). Furious Googling by ThreeSum captured the image to be duly posted to an incredulous membership.

 

A Birthday DD was next on the Mad Hatter's Tea Party list - Pollyfella, come on down - literally as the infamous doggy bowl was produced by a resurgent Teapot. It wasn't pretty and eventually Pollyfella gave best and surrendered the last dregs over his head. Mavis, where are you when we need you!

Two badges were brandished by the Grand Master: A 50 beginner's badge for Strap-On and a Big 500 for Piltdown Man - as correctly called by the Blue.

 

Oh Shirley Sacrilege - both awardees requested water, what is the hash coming to? In the background, the hard working hares supped their reward drink, bravissimo!

 

A special mention for our hostess Jackie who had deferred her retirement for one day in order to serve our TVH party crew. 

 

Thank you Jackie from all at Teign Valley Hash.

 

POSTSCRIPT

A little late for the trail - twenty hours to be precise - Pisswell nevertheless completed the long, plus a little extra, making 7 miles plus. An added bonus was that she was able to enjoy the views! She's a hasher through and through as they sing. Try and be on time next week please, Pisswell!

 

What a great evening and I wasn't in trouble when I got back home, thank goodness.

 

ON ON to next week and the Lord Nelson, Kingskerswell; virgin lay by Cheerio-Beerio

And finally, It's goodbye from me and goodbye from MP ON ON!

TEAPOT AND PORK TORPEDO QUITE SIMPLY SUBLIME McBEEFY STARS ON TRAIL WITH HIS CABERATHLON

24th January 2022 - McBell Inn, Bovey Tracey - 1901st Run - Burns' Night

by MacPig

 

HARES: Cold McTits (Longs and Shorts) & Shit McFaced (Walkers)

Who wuz there: Cold McTits, Shit McFaced, Forrest McStump, McTeapot, Pork McPedo, McHornie, Piss McWell, McBeefy, Three McSum, Sat McNav, Piltdown-Mac, Georgie-McPorgy, McSmellie, McStrap-On, Mrs McStrap-On, Big Mac, Well McHopped, McNed, Mac-Pig, Arc McAngel, Hot McLips, McZoot, Cheerio McBeerio, Blue McBird, Only Here for the McBeer, Fallen McWoman, Able McSemen, T-McHumper, I McPoo'd, Just McCumming, McGrinder, Deep McThroat

Who wasn't: McRambo (skiing), Bobbi McBall (poorly - although he did offer to drop off the Horses head hat)

 

INTRODUCTION

Wow. What a fantastic evening! And wasn't it good to have McTeapot back after such a long absence? And just in time to pipe-in the Haggis; resplendent in full highland evening dress. Brilliant. And just when you thought that this could not be bettered, another spectacular performance by a similarly attired Pork McPedo. Porky beguiled and amazed us with the traditional Toast to the Haggis. All eight verses of it and all from memory including the actions of slicing open the haggis and squeezing out its entrails. Truly awesome. A wonderful sight to behold....especially in a village pub on the edge of Dartmoor. Who'd have thought it? Fantastic.

 

PRE-CIRCLE

An early start for TVH this evening. The Hares had organised a pre-trail mini-distillery tour at The Dartmoor Distillery. The owners took us through a fast forwarded video of the history of the distillery. Founded in 2017 and using a cognac still imported from France. Now deemed to be too small to be commercially viable for the likes of Martell and Remy Martin, they had found their way to the fringes of Dartmoor for a new lease of life. Whilst the cognac still is used for the whisky, another still is being used for the Dartmoor gin. This is another import from France but last used in 1959. It was interesting to see the tiny bead blaster used to clean the outside of the stills to reveal the beautiful copper beneath - all hand beaten I would think.

 

I understand that our mini-visit might be a precursor to a more formalised visit on 26th February. If the Hash can drum up enough interest, the distillery might even put on a barrel of beer for us. Shit McFaced is still in negotiations, so watch this space for further details.

 

THE CIRCLE

Shit McFaced correctly pronounced Buvvy Tracey and reminded everyone that subs were now due. Over to Cold McTits for the lowdown on the trail. A Walkers' trail of about one and a half miles. A Shorts' of, maybe, three miles. Longs' around five miles but ".......do the Walkers' loop first before rejoining the Shorts' trail".

 

THE TRAIL

Down Fore Street heading for the Dolphin, we crossed over the River Bovey opposite where the Riverside Inn once was; now a Tescos Express. A peculiar split as the Longs and the Walkers veered right and into a park whilst the Shorts carried on and up past the Dolphin. Oh, what confusion in the park. The marks were fine as we carried on along the western bank of the River Bovey. Then - nothing. Ahead, over another small bridge and an opportunity to go left, right or straight ahead....nothing. A lot of wandering around and checking - even though there was no check.

 

The majority of the pack checked out the north and east periphery of the park but nothing. McPig eventually committed to checking out the eastern bank of the Bovey and found a couple of marks. However, these proved to be from last week's Ashburton Hash so Mac-Pig ended up back at the first check and returning to the Walkers and Longs/Shorts split just as the Walkers were all returning to the pub. C'est la vie.

 

Well behind the Longs and the Shorts, Mac-Pig got back on trail just in time to catch up with Forrest McStump at the Long/Short split. This was just after passing through Challabrook Farm. Forrest went Short whilst Mac-Pig opted for a lonely long. This took the Longs up Chapple Road. This follows the route of the Templer Way and along the lower reaches of the granite tramway that extends up to Haytor.

It wasn't long before the sweetie-stop was in sight and some Cadburys McRoses chocolate were consumed before continuing the lonely plod up to a farmhouse. This was Whisselwell Farm and I wasn't supposed to be here. A kindly young farmer redirected me back from whence I came. "An arrow". A big one too that I had clearly missed.

 

As soon as I commenced the clamber up the watery farm track, I knew exactly where I was. This was a Piss McWell trail that we'd done a couple of years ago and, again, by Ash Hash last summer. The track is a public footpath that takes us up to Lower Brimley.

 

At Lower Brimley, an arrow clearly directed us down Brimley Lane and back towards Bovey Tracey. Over the A382 and past the northern edge of the playing fields and past St John's church. An arrow pointed us across a road and then right into a housing estate before going down the footpath that took us out at the Station car park into the middle of Bovey Tracey. Up Fore Street and back to the car for a quick change into something Scottish.....I wonder what that might be?

 

TEIGN VALLEY EXCEL INSIDE THE BELL

"Wear something Scottish", they said. "For next week is the Burns' Night Hash". And so we did. Despite rural Devon being at the other end of the country, a really splendid turnout of suitably attired Hashers helped to make the evening what it was......fantastic!

 

THE McDOWN-DOWNS

5 half-pints plus Bluebird's special prize:

Georgy McPorgy to Pork McPedo for brilliant attire - 'Hold it in your hand Mrs Murphy...'

McTeapot for (a) being back & (b) fantastic pipe playing. It really made the evening.

McSmellie, special award for squeezing into her £5 size 10 tartan dress....lovely but, being so tight, it took ages for Smellie to despatch her half pint.

Fallen McWoman for being on last week's AshHash trail, "But I wasn't the only one!"

The Hares, Cold McTits and Shit McFaced for organising, well, everything! Well done.

Finally, Able Semen set the seal on the evening by informing us that it was our Life President's birthday this very day. Glasses were raised for dear Pottsie.

 

IMPORTANT NOTICE - AMNESIA

Miscreants or amnesia. Two unpaid Haggis, Neaps & Tatties still outstanding at the end of the evening! If you were one of those that enjoyed the traditional Scottish fare, but forgot to pay, please liaise directly with the pub to settle your bill. Thankyou.

 

McDENDUM

After sampling the delights of haggis, neaps and tatties Mac-Pig, Pork McPedo and Blue McBird got into a conversation about the history of tartans. In a nutshell, tartans as we know them today are a recent concept; a concept based on commercialism, nostalgia and the creation of a past that never existed. Sure, tartan type weaves have been around since the dark ages but they were never particularly colourful and they were certainly not clan specific.

 

After the Battle of Culloden in 1742, the wearing of tartan by highland males was banned for the next 36 years. It was only after King George IV's visit to Edinburgh in 1822 that a the concept of promoting Scottish cultural identity, through tartan, gained traction. This was further supported by Queen Victoria.

However, the concept of clan specific tartans is only about 80 years old. Many thousands of highlanders were moved out of their homelands to make way for sheep in the early 18th century - a very dark time known as the Highland Clearances. Many of the displaced went to Canada, the USA and New Zealand.

The descendants of these early colonisers, seeking a reconnection with their ancestors, have been one of the primary drivers behind the commercialisation of tartans. Now, not only does each clan have its own (albeit modern-day) tartan, there are numerous tartans to choose from within each clan.

 

Typically, this comprises the Chief's tartan, a dress tartan and a hunting tartan - the latter usually being fairly drab. However, prior to clan tartans, but post Cullodon, many of the English controlled Highland military regiments adopted regimental specific tartans. Perhaps the most famous is that of the Black Watch which is green and dark blue.

 

Thank the pub. Thank the Hares.

 

POSTSCRIPT

Circumstances permit merely an abridged offering, but I would echo MP's sentiments and appraisal of the magical evening. It really seemed like a dream inside the Bell with the majestic - and most unexpected - entrance of Teapot, the lone piper escorting in the plattered haggis. Piping completed, Pork Torpedo, immaculately attired, recited the full eight verses of Rabbie Burns Address to a Haggis - complete with accompanying gestures! 

 

Lang may yer lum reek!

 

A Trail Too Far (2022) for me in my current condition but I was, unlike the Napoleon Solo MP, with fine company throughout. Big End encouraged and McBeefy on his caberathlon was Every Which Way But Loose (1978) - a remarkable effort indeed.

 

The McSweetie stop, manned by Cold McTits was possibly a McBird saver, enabling a partial recovery.

Going across the river bridge On Home, Beefy passed a group of the local lads who were quite bemused by the apparition. 'What's that?' cried one. 'It's a McCaber!' replied McBird. 'Ahhhhhh' was the impressed reply.

 

Finally, grateful thanks to our Grand Master and Coldtits for arranging, planning and organizing the epic, thank you from all hashers!

 

NEARLY FORGOT

An amusing episode occurred while we were changing, post trail up Mary Street. A Tesco van came down the hill and could not get through as cars were either side of the road. The driver got out and took a look. Forrest was correctly parked and the problem was the car on yellow lines opposite. Seeing Forrest, the driver came over to see if he could perhaps move. Unfortunately (for the driver) Forrest had his leg off and said 'If you can hang on a moment, I'll move my car when I put my leg on!'

To say the driver was taken aback was perhaps an understatement.

 

As Corporal Jones would have said: 'Hence the expression - he didn't have a leg to stand on!'

No? Well please yourselves then.

 

Next week

Confirmed as the Red Rock Brewery, Humber. Details to follow.

MONDAY 24TH JANUARY MAP

 

PILTDOWN MAN'S BIRTHDAY & STATE PENSION HASH

by Man-Pig

 

Run #1899 10th January 2022 from the Devon Arms Hotel, Teignmouth

 

HARES: Piltdown-Man & Smellie

 

Who wuz there: Piltdown-Man, Smellie, Shitfaced, Georgy-Porgy, Gaga-4-it, Fast Auntie Brenda, Strap-On, Well Hopped, Coldtits, Rambo, Wetfart, Beefy, Pisswell, Man-Pig, Arkangel (late SCB), Piddler, Only Here for the Beer, Forrest Stump, Bluebird, Fukarewe (pub only).

 

Who wasn't: late message from Cheerio Beerio who had intended to attend and bring the Hashshit shirt but caught in traffic in Exeter.

 

THE CIRCLE

Shitfaced welcomed everyone into the Circle. The only announcement was that annual subs are now payable at £25pa which ".....lasts a whole year from January to January!" Shitfaced confirmed that the pub didn't do food but takeaways would be allowed. The Hare's description was brief. "Longs just over 5. Shorts about 3 and a Walkers' "....no distance stated. Additionally, no co-hare. It transpired that the trail had been laid the previous day. However, overnight, all the marks had been eaten. Hence, Smellie was on a last minute dash to reinstate some of the marks.

 

THE TRAIL

Almost from the start there was a feeling of deja vu. The trail was following a very similar route to Smellie's virgin lay on the Halloween fancy dress hash. The trail took us down Northumberland Place, a sharp right and onto backbeach before crossing the Den and turning left onto the Promenade.

At this stage, as amazing as it sounds, Piddler was the front runner. Beefy had checked the wrong way and Man-Pig and the Bird had ended up on the wrong (seaward) side of the road. Inevitably, it wasn't long before Beefy caught us up and the usual suspect FRB's began to pull away from the pack.

 

All along the promenade and up past the yacht club to start our ascent. For the second time in just over two months, the marks took us up and up and up East Cliff Walk. A short way up, a peculiar set of marks; one arrow pointing up the hill, the other down the hill. We assumed that this must be the return leg for the Shorts.

 

The Longs continued up East Cliff walk; a little further up than we'd gone on 2 November. Then an arrow took us left and along a narrow footpath that I've never been on before. Unsurprisingly, this took us out onto the Dawlish Road. Another arrow directed us across the road and then left towards two shadowy figures....hashers? Not just hashers....Hares. Piltdown directed us up Oak Hill Cross Road advising, "Turn sharp left after three quarters of a mile".

 

Definitely deja vu. This was another uphill climb onto Holcombe Down. It wasn't long before tarmac gave way to a farm track. Additionally, it became clear as to the reason for Piltdown's imparted wisdom.....NO MARKS! Not a single one. They must have all been eaten. We ran past a stile at Lower Holicombe Farm with a home-made "Private Land. No access" sign next to it. I am sure that we've run over these stiles and across two fields in the past. 

 

Bluebird reckons that if the stiles are still in place then it should still be a public right of way.....maybe? Answers on a postcard please. Beefy was well out of sight....and so was Bluebird. Yet again our Birdbrained septuagenarian had opted for road shoes which was not the wisest of choices on the slippery climb up to the top of Holcombe Down.

 

At the top of the track there was a check. I decided to wait for the Bird and hid behind an ex-MOD lorry. Just as Bluebird drew level with the back of the lorry I jumped out to give him a scare.....how childish? (Not needed at my time of life! BB)

 

At almost the highest point on Holcombe down, we rejoined tarmac near Woodlands Farm. Bluebird was delighted....tarmac, hmmmmmm, he could put his road shoes to good use here. Our uphill travails were now rewarded with a two mile downhill, all tarmac decent back to the Devon Arms. The descent followed Woodway Road down to the A379/Dawlish Road.

 

Amazingly, the marks had reappeared and some of them were quite new. Convinced that we were doing a repeat of the Halloween trail, we carried on across Dawlish Road. It looked as though we were still on trail as blobs of flour had now given way to white chalk arrows.

 

It was only upon arriving back at the Devon Arms that we noticed marks leading from the Quay car park to the On-Down. We hadn't been on trail since half way down Woodway Road. 

 

Piltdown did show us where we should have gone but I wasn't wearing my glasses. My guess is that we missed a mark which would have taken us right and along Haldon Avenue. This would have explained why the Bird had only clocked-up 4.84 miles on a trail that was, "just over 5". Nevertheless, it was good to have the Bird for company as I was never going to catch up with Beefy.

 

And now, our new feature to keep y'all amused. I offer up for your edification and possible disapprobation:

 

THE TRAIL FILM REVIEW by the Bird

 

TRUE GRIT (1969)

We Shirley got rollin' rollin' rollin' with the most welcome gritted cliff path as we commenced our climb out of Teignmouth. Great traction for mine Hoka pure bred road shoes, but it would be a short-lived luxury...

 

MUDBOUND (2017)

Piltdown and SM Ellie waving the longs up into the boondocks with a cheerful 'Sharp left after three-quarters of a mile!' The sharp left took Man-Pig and the Bird into a veritable skating rink of slick mud. The Hokas struggled valiantly but were Shirley overwhelmed and gave up the ghost (three hundred miles on the clock so they have served me well). Even walking proved problematic and the heart rate was in the red at 150+. Man-Pig scaring me to death by leaping out from behind a truck certainly woke me up. I won't be forgetting that lane for some time..

 

RUNAWAY TRAIN (1985)

Meanwhile, many minutes earlier, Beefy had breasted the muddy rise, passed the military truck and had careered like a Runaway Train hard a starboard en routey for Teignmouth golf course... long two mile detour sigh...

 

DOWNHILL RACER (1969)

Back with the plodders and Oh Glory Be! Can it be So? (Cruise) Blessed Bird beloved boulevard beckoned and, wait for it, a glorious Downhill Racer back into town with both Man-Pig and the Bird in (So) cruise control.

 

THE DOWNDOWNS

Our beer mugs Shirley overflowed as there were two physical awards on show at the snug tavern. Strap-On had returned with the 'Is that my t-shirt Bluebird?' stand-in Hashit shirt and Archangel had the Horse Head hat unceremoniously stuffed in his back pocket .. neighhhh.

 

With Forrest officiating, the hares were first up to be made an example of - I mean to be recognized for their travails. Piltdown's birthday (yes, on the day) did not go unnoticed and bravely did the hares swap sips of the hallowed water of life.

 

Strap-On blamed a detour from the short (again?) onto the quagmire long on Pisswell who was duly awarded Forrest's slimline Old Guys Rule shirt.

 

Archangel had a sad story to relate. Too long to describe but apparently Forrest had been an 'unsociable git' for hiding when Archangel dropped by... Shirley not Forrest? Horse Head hat homes in on its master yet again... the toast was, more charitably - to 'absent friends'.

 

Two more halves to dispense and outrageously did Forrest ad lib.

 

Poor Piddler was singled out for his signature moaning - this time about Forrest's muttley allegedly doing his doggy-do's en route.

 

Finally, SM Ellie lost out on the awarding of the final half - mainly because it was recalled she had downed three previously from the same venue on her virgin lay!

 

POSTSCRIPT

A score draw [sic] attained with Fukarwi making a special guest appearance in the pub and a good time was Shirley had by all. 

 

After three months of injury, a glimmer of hope tonight as I got round with no twinges (but predictably hobbling the next day) and it was glorious to be able to cautiously stride out once more on the long.

I had wrongly assumed/hoped that the trail would have been mainly on road as was the case the last time we were here. Whatamistakatomaka! 

 

Never mind, another memorable trail and thank goodness I followed Man-Pig on our truncated version. I would not have survived Beefy's 7.21 miler!

 

The Deck Hand was great while it lasted but I can confirm that the Gun Dog was an excellent substitute.

 

Well done the hares and thanks to the pub for their hospitality.

 

ON ON to next week and the BIG 1900 HASH from the Cridford Inn at Trusham with Forrest.

MAGIC ARROWS AND A STEWARDS ENQUIRY

by Man-Pig - supported by the Bird

TVH3 Run No. 1898 3rd January 2022 

 

VENUE: The Old Manor Inn, Preston, Paignton

 

HARES: Bobbiball & Man-Pig

 

HOO WUZ THERE?: Bobbiball, Man-Pig, Shitfaced, Bluebird, Only Here for the Beer, Pork Torpedo, Horny, Melonpicker, Soapy, Strap-On, Mrs Strap-On, U-Bend, Beefy, Fallen Woman, Broken Man, Piltdown Man, Smellie, Big End, Well Hopped, Gaga-4-it, Coldtits, Rambo.

 

WHO WUZN'T: Not a bad turnout for the first run of the year

 

THE CIRCLE

Bobbiball droned on for a bit without imparting too much knowledge. A Walkers' trail of about one and a half miles; Shorts maybe 3 1/2 miles and Longs about 5 1/2 miles......maybe? Then there was some confusion as to the first Long/Short split on exiting the pub car park. The Hares had, initially, differing opinions on which way the Shorts went. Then they agreed and then they changed their minds. All very reassuring.

 

THE TRAIL

The Longs turned right out of the car park and headed towards Oldway Mansion; all two of them.....Beefy and Man-Pig. The Walkers and the Shorts turned left out of the car park with the Walkers pretty much following Bobbiball back to his abode for a mulled wine and nibbles stop.

 

Having opted for the Long, there is little I can say about the Shorts until we caught up with them some 25 minutes later. The Longs ducked and weaved around Oldway Mansion before traipsing down Lower Polsham Road, traversing the skate boarding park and ending up at Marine Parade heading towards Torquay and Hollicombe Beach.

 

At the end of Marine Parade, we came across Horny, Pork Torpedo, Soapy and Melonpicker who were doing their own trail. Beefy and I followed the marks inland and up an unadopted road by the name of Hollicombe Lane. A check at Cockington Lane took us up Upper Headland Road before crossing Preston Down Road. The marks took us along Lower Penns Road and the entrance to Preston Park.

Ahead of us torchlight. Lots of it. The Shorts. At almost the highest point in Preston Park a check caused much confusion near Mercer Close with the trail almost coming back on itself. A slippery descent ensued as all entered the woodland of Occombe Valley. It wasn't long before we came to a Walkers/Long and Short split.

 

The Walkers went left and down onto Coombe Road whilst the Longs and the Shorts continued their slide deeper into Occombe Woods. Quite a long while later, atop a slight climb, we came to the second Long/Short split. The Shorts had a quite steep descent to the stream whilst Man-Pig had a lonely slog to the head of the valley in a futile attempt to catch up with Beefy. Or not so lonely as it turned out. For there, ahead of me, were two head torches. I could also hear Beefy calling. However, the head-torches were on a track slightly below me....not part of the trail. It turned out to be Smellie and Strap-On who thought that they were on the Shorts. I took them around the Longs but never did catch up with Beefy until the drinks stop.

 

The Longs trail looped around the top of the two streams that enter Occombe Valley and it wasn't long before we rejoined the Shorts' trail. This latter part of the trail had us on a long slog up a footpath that runs behind Greenpark Road and ends near Kestor Drive. This uphill slog was taking its toll on poor old Smellie who was puffing and panting the whole way up. How she enjoyed the respite of the descent down to Bobbiball's and the reinvigoration of his mulled wine. This descent took us first down Greenford Road, then left along Cranford Road and right again for a long downhill along Albany Road. A final left turn had us at Bobbiball's drink stop on Celia Road.

 

Suitably refreshed, the trio of Smellie, Man-Pig and Strap-On clambered down the steep steps at the end of Celia Road and then left onto Shorton Valley Road. This got a little confusing as we were now running against the marks for the Walkers' trail. To Smellie's relief, it was all downhill now in pretty much a straight line down Coombe Road and back to the Old Manor, passing U-Bend on the way.

 

TITILLATION OR AGGRAVATION?

And now, a Bluebird ballad to titillate or perchance aggravate, Oh Dearly Beloved:

 

Lonely was the furrow plough'd and ghastly was the pace

No hasher seen the evening long but smiley was his face

Entered he Paignton Parkfield grounds, the village of the damned

Round and round and back and forth, Shirley an excursion most unplanned

Der Panzer stop to refuel was his destination bound

Oh lackaday, oh dismal day, it could not be ruddy found

Close at hand ye olde Preston inn and salvation Shirley m'dear

The just reward, need you ask, a pint of Doom Bar beer!

 

No? Well please yourselves then.

 

THE DOWN-DOWNS

Once more, no physical awards to award and a stewards enquiry has been convened to identify the miscreants. The hashit shirt remains languishing in some mystery kitbag at Cheerio Beerio's gaff. I cannot preach as I had a previous model interned behind my outside shed drier for two years. Once discovered, it was a write-off as the rats had got at it. Sigh..

 

The Jester's horn-ed hat was last seen being awarded to Roxanne on #1891 whereupon the trail goes cold. Base to Roxanne: Are you in receipt, Roxanne? Over.

 

Our esteemed and missed RA organizer, Teapot, always kept the house in order. A quiet word to awardees after the DD's to see if they were returning the following week or, if not, to give the award to Teapot for safekeeping.

 

Here endeth my sermon, Oh Dearly Reliev-ed.

 

But back to the DD's: Usually reserved for last - the thank you drink for the hares - but the cry went up and the disparate - some say desperate - duo were immediately summoned. Well, Bobby anyway as Man-Pig was already in situ as the RA presiding.

 

Well Hopped mentioned 'Magic arrows' appearing on trail and Man-Pig knew the game was up. Deja vu the Highweek Inn as Pork Torpedo recited his 'Dumb Cum' ditty.

 

SM Ellie and Strap-On were reported for being on the long trail which seems a bit curious as they both should have been anyway. But never mind, since when have awards ever been sensible?

 

Merely magnificent these days and looking as fit as a butcher's dog, Strap-On poured himself into slimline Forrest's Old Guys t-shirt for his downdown showdown with Ellie.

 

Not sure how U Bend escaped a penalty DD as he was seen indecorously (hash circles that is) sipping what looked like a cup of coffee... WHAT?

 

POSTSCRIPT

Well done the hares in laying what is invariably a quiet first hash of the year. After being housebound all over Christmas and the new year, I risked it and went as a biscuit to support my local Rottenführer. The company - as always - was congenial and the Doom Bar tasted great.

 

Only Here for the Beer somehow had wangled a lift from mein Großmeister (Shitfaced you fools) and was sampling the Sharp's Sea Fury 5.0 abv with gusto.

 

I had a fine time as well, thanks MP and Bob.

 

On-On to next week's Hash; Piltdown Man's at the Devon Arms Hotel, Teignmouth.

 

ON-ON from the Pig and the Bird

HASHING HEAVEN AT HASH HQ - FREE FOOD GALORE! by Man-Pig

TVH3 Run No. 1897 27th December 2021 Pubathon Hash

 

VENUE: TVH3 HQ - The Park Inn, Kingskerswell

 

HARE: Shitfaced

 

ROLL CALL: Shitfaced, Hotlips, Zoot, Cheerio Beerio, Gaga-4-it, Fast Auntie Brenda, Laura/Lara (little elf), Arkangel (early), Bobbiball (late), Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Strap-On, Coldtits, Man-Pig, Ollie & dogs, Floss (watching football)

 

IN ABSENTIA: loads

 

THE CIRCLE

Well, it was a small circle with only 12 actually on-trail. Instructions were brief. "Make your way down to the Hare and Hounds. Don't spend more than 20 minutes in the pub because we need to be at the Lord Nelson for 8.15 when food has been arranged. Then make you way to the Park Inn where more food will be available". All free of charge!

 

THE TRAIL

A simple walk down the main road to the Hare and Hounds for our first drink....and first misdemeanour of the evening; a hat was found in the pub just as the last hashers were leaving.

Some exited the Hare and Hounds by the front door and some by the rear door. We all regrouped to make the trek up Southey Lane to the Lord Nelson. On the way, Man-Pig and Coldtits decided to bang on Cinderfella and Miss Whiplash's door to encourage them to swell our numbers. No answer. Bah humbug!

 

On arriving at an incredibly hot Lord Nelson we enjoyed another beer and piping hot pigs-in-blankets. There was also a bizarre conversation involving men in fishnet stockings and the abrasiveness of the coarse wool used in kilt making. More on that later.

 

Finally a short walk back to TVH3 HQ for a couple of pints and the Down-Downs. Total distance, according to Coldtits' Strava: 2.44 miles and not a grain of flour in sight!

 

THE DOWN-DOWNS

Yet again there were no physical awards present. Local Harriet, Cheerio-Beerio, was asked what had happened to the Hashshit shirt? "Oh. It's in the laundry". LAUNDRY! "Err....I mean laundry basket". After a lot of wriggling and squirming the final location was determined as being in a rucksack somewhere. That's more like it.

 

The first virtual Down-Down went to Shitfaced. This was for being the Hare and also for organising not one, but two pubs to provide free food. Even better, the free scoff could be washed down by draught beers that are all priced at a mere £3/pint until New Year's Eve at the Park Inn.

 

Arkangel would have got a Down-Down for being in the pub but declining to do the trail. In truth, he would have earned the long-distance award, even without completing the trail. This was because he had walked from Newton Abbot to the Park Inn to watch the 'Quins v Saints' rugby match. 

 

As Arkangel had built-up a 4-pint head start, he elected not to do the trail. Even more sensibly, he had vacated the pub prior to our return. He could see the writing on the wall....."another sesh if I'm not careful". Maybe we'll save this Down-Down till next week?

 

The second award went to returnee Ollie. For it was Ollie who had left his hat in the Hare and Hounds. Now, Ollie is a tad follically challenged. Accordingly, you would have thought that he'd notice straightaway if something was missing atop. Hence a note for, "Cold on top".

 

The third award went to Hotlips who went into graphic detail about his first experience of wearing ladies' fishnet tights. In the absence of any instructions in the packaging, he assumed that you just jumped into them, au naturel, and then donned your underpants Superman style. The net (get it?) result of all this was that he got his private bits uncomfortably entangled in the mesh - a les gills des poisons et les monofilament nets.....ouch! Accordingly a note for, "The trawler man".

 

The fourth Down-Down went to Cheerio-Beerio. Not for contemplating washing the Hashshit shirt, but for having the strength of a finger of Kit Kat. Poor Cheerio was full of cold and wanted to go straight home after the Lord Nelson but it did not take long for Hot Lips to break her will power and encourage her to complete the trail and make it to the Park Inn where she was suitably rewarded. For the first time in hashing history a WKD was awarded as a Down-Down. This was accompanied by, "Here's to Got a cold? Have a Kwik Krap!......"

 

There was one beer left. Had anyone seen anything on trail? No-one had seen anything but Shitfaced, and others, had heard something. The saga of Hotlips' encounter with some fishnet tights was augmented by Man-Pig's commentary of the pros and cons of going commando when wearing a kilt.

Apparently it all rather depends upon the grade of wool used in the kilt material. Most kilts are spun from a very coarse wool. Hence, in going commando, over the course of a full evening of Scottish Country dancing, this has the same effect as polishing one's helmet with 400 grade sandpaper......double-ouch! Hence Shitfaced led the rendition of, "Hold it in your hand Mrs Murphy......"

 

Five Down-Downs. Yes indeedy. With only 12 people on trail, you had nearly a fifty-fifty chance of a Down-Down.

 

On-On to next week's Hash; Bobbiball's run from The Old Manor, Old Torquay Road, Paignton.

 

And, finally, wishing you and your families Happy New Year. Onto 2022 and the hope that we will finally be rid of the coronavirus and a return to some sort of normality.

Monday 13th December location map

 

MONDAY'S MAP 6TH DECEMBER