"A TALE OF TWO CITIES" (or pubs?)

(Words by Charles Dickens and Jim Steinman)

TVH3 The Words for 16th May 2022 

 

The Bishop Lacy, Chudleigh (or was it?) Run No. 1917

 

HARES: Soapy and Melonpicker

 

Who wuz there: Melonpicker, Soapy, Shitfaced, Cheerio Beerio, Man-Pig, Archangel, Beefy, Pisswell, Ernie, Forrest-Stump, Coldtits, Rambo, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Big End, Well Hopped, Ned, Manopause, Wet-Johnny, Bobbiball, Zoot, Hotlips, Slip-on-Me, Ablesemen, Wetfart, Swinger.

'It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. We had everything before us. We had nothing before us'. These Words, immortalised in Charles Dickens' A tail of Two Cities pretty much summed up the evening.

 

It had been a long, long time since Teign Valley had run from the Bishop Lacy. So long, in fact, that our illustrious GM confirmed that he'd never run from there. The senior citizens of the hash cast their minds back probably no more than 7 or 8 years. Back then, and indeed way before that, there was a time when Chudleigh was Hash Central.

 

Back then, TVH3 very rarely ran from the same pub more than twice a year. The two exceptions being the Bishop Lacy and the Teign House Inn run by Robin and Wendy and Captain Pugwash respectively. Both pubs have a long history of making the Hash so very welcome. And, with that in mind, the oldies were looking forward to a return to our roots and reminiscing about the Good Old Days.

 

Even in his absence, Bluebird still managed to trace the history of our last run from the Bishop Lacey; way back in 2018 - staggering.

 

It was fitting that our return to the Bishop Lacy should be organised by one of Teign Valley's most senior Hares, Melonpicker, on the cusp of his 70th birthday (or was Melonpicker just angling for free Down-Downs on two consecutive weeks?). We will never know. What a fantastic effort. I wonder how many more of us will Hare into our 70s; a brilliant inning by anyone's standards.

Enough of the nostalgia. What about the run?

 

The Circle

We circled up in Chudleigh's main car park. Shitfaced asked for any announcements. There were effectively none. Nonetheless, Rambo advised the Circle that the run diary was now full through to September. Well done all those volunteer Hares.

 

The Trail

Soapy gave a brief description of the trail, including approximate lengths and scant details of a secret sweetie stop. Then Melopicker ruined it all by querying the distances and then telling everyone where the sweeties were. And with that, we were off.

 

Left out of the car park, left again and through the roads and alleyways of a newish housing estate with checks aplenty. Along Greathill before turning right onto Oldway and heading southwest before another right and down a steep lane towards the sewage works.....lovely. Under the A38 before arriving at the first Long/Short split. The Shorts stayed on a footpath entering Chudleigh Wood and climbing steeply uphill. Over a stile and then downhill to the lower end of Parr's Lane.

 

The Longs, meanwhile, climbed over a steel gate and headed for the River Teign near Huxbear Bridge (an old railway bridge unused since the Beeching cuts in the mid-sixties).

 

Wet Johnny was way out in front. Pursuers comprised Ernie, Manopause, Man-Pig, Forrest Stump, Beefy, Pisswell, Swinger, Big End, and Well Hopped. The trail along the banks of the Teign was in an open field and re-entered woodland at Putshills. 

 

A little further along, we climbed another steel gate and continued along the Teign, but no marks. Beefy and Man-Pig continued all around a field almost up to Northwood Farm before realising that there was no one behind us.

 

Back to the gate over which we'd clambered not 5 minutes earlier - marks! We should never have crossed into the field. It had been a sharp U-turn and up to the top edge of Chudleigh Woods. We passed Smellie who is still constrained to walking on Doctor's orders. 

 

Soon we rejoined the Shorts' trail at the stile existing Chudleigh Woods; passing Able Semen and Slip-on-Me before hitting the end of Parr's Lane. Bobbiball was another backmarker but the Shorts and Longs (who hadn't had a jolly jaunt around an unmarked field) were within sight. At the top of Parr's Lane, we came to the sweetie top.

 

All too soon, we were dropping back into Chudleigh across a flyover and then the inevitable - a check. This had us going left along a footpath (now enclosed) before crossing Old Exeter Street where a Walkers/Long Short split offered a shortcut back to the car park. For the non-Walkers, it was down and across New Exeter Road and thence down past the cricket field to the bowling club at Old Kate Bridge and another check. This narrow lane was choc-a-bloc with cars. I never knew that bowling was so popular and the bowling green was packed with smiling retirees enjoying an early summer's evening. It all looked rather tranquil.

 

The check had been kicked out right along Kate Brook. The old footpath soon gave way to a new footpath-cum-cycle path before hitting tarmac at Towerhill and the final Long/Short split.

 

The Shorts had a straight run northwest back to the car park. The Longs went up Towerhill, towards Uggbrook House, for a short while before the trail took us right and along a track known as Garden Spot Lane. An arrow had us turning left through an iron kissing gate and then right through another. At this point, Wet-Johnny and Beefy were ahead of the Pig. But, in close pursuit were Big End, Ned, Well Hopped, and Swinger. This footpath ran at the lower edge of some woodland before crossing an open field, another two kissing gates, and re-entering Chudleigh near Rock Road. An absence of marks had Beefy and Wet-Johnny checking unsuccessful avenues. The Pig found the trail on Rock Road before turning right onto Parkway Road. I had expected the trail to take us up the ginnel next to the church but no. 

 

The trail followed Parkway Road up to its junction with Clifford Street where it joined up with the Shorts' trail. In no time at all, we were back at Chudleigh car park and looking forward to renewing our acquaintance with an old friend - The Bishop Lacy.

 

The Down-Downs

Once back in the car park it was a quick change of clothes for the 300 yards jaunt down to The Bishop Lacy where Robin and Wendy were opening up, especially for us. A special treat organised by the Hares. We were so looking forward to the piping hot sausages and chips that Robin and Wendy were putting on the bar for us hungry hashers. I could almost smell the sausages....ahhhhhhhh!

 

STOP RIGHT THERE!

Before you go any further, are you hungry? Will you be hungry forever?

Well, let me sleep on it. I'll give you the answer in the morning.

I gotta know right now. Are you hungry?

Yes....and thirsty!

Then a phone call. It was Arkangel.

"There is no room at the inn".

Hmmm, it's not Christmas Eve pondered the Pig.

Apparently, The Bishop Lacy, which does not usually open on a Monday, still wasn't open on a Monday. 

 

It eventually transpired that Wendy hadn't put Melonpicker's request in the pub diary. Poor Robin was Home Alone (1990) and had no staff to attend the bar as it is Robin who usually mans the kitchen.

C'est la vie. With that news, it was an about turn and a quick yomp back up to the car park via the Ship Inn. The 300-yard retreat was not without its incidents. The first involved an elderly pedestrian attempting to cross the road opposite a charity shop by means of the pedestrian crossing. An even more elderly gentleman was driving up the road at a sedate 15 mph. We could see that he was old by the way in which he was hunched over the wheel of his rather battered silver Peugeot estate. It all happened in slow motion - as these things always do. The car appeared to slow. The pedestrian stepped onto the crossing. Nothing happened. The car kept moving at 15 mph. The pedestrian was about to take his second step across the crossings. IMPACT! Well, not quite. A startled pedestrian leapt back just in time as the car continued its crawl across the crossing. Its driver completely oblivious to the near-death collision.

 

The second event was to check:

a) was the Ship open?

and

b) could they accommodate twenty-plus hungry and thirsty Hashers?

The answer was:

Yes. No. Yes.

Yes. Please come in.

No. I'm afraid that we don't do food.

Yes. We do do beer.

And with that we were Inn - so to speak.

 

This is the first time that I'd even been into the Ship. It is a good old-fashioned boozer. Simple and unpretentious. It has a pool table, a jukebox, and a TV. A real locals' pub. Indeed, half a dozen locals were watching a football match on the box with teams that I've never heard of, "New" and "Ars". The landlord made us very welcome as we huddled in a slightly elevated part of the bar next to those glued to the footie, or was that the Ars they were looking at?

 

Before long, it was halftime and our cue to move to the other end of the bar, to minimise disturbance to the football supporters, to do the Down-Downs. This week it was Forrest-Stump's turn to preside over the proceedings. 

 

Being our first time in the Ship, it would have been far too presumptuous to ask the landlord to sub the Down-Downs so I believe the Hare paid for them all. Bravo! 

 

Just as the Down-Downs were about to commence, Forrest decided that a quick rendition of Bobbiball, Bobbiball, etc was called for. Once that was out of the way, Forrest delivered the Down-Downs in reverse order.

 

First up were the Hares, Soapy and Melonpicker, intertwining arms. Here's to the Hares etc etc.

Second up it was Melonpicker again. This time for his birthday which is on Friday. All the right notes - not necessarily in the right order. I do hope that the second half hadn't started!

 

Third, in the order of proceedings were a couple of badges to assign; 200 runs for Beefy and 700 runs for Soapy. Down-Downs were dispatched to the sounds of "Hold it in your hand, Mrs . Murphy...." for Beefy and "Get a life, life, life" for Soapy.

 

Next, it was over to the awards. Forrest had the Jester's hat from the previous week but couldn't think of a story. However, Man-Pig had one or two to recount. The first story related to the near RTA at the pedestrian crossing earlier in the evening. Here it was revealed that the identity of the elderly pedestrian was none other than Man-Pig and that the doddery driver was Forrest Stump - obviously on a mission to commit porcuscide! However, the hat was not going straight back to Forrest. The Pig asked Hotlips to recount a conversation, earlier in the week between his PA and a senior member of the Hash.

 

The story recounted went something like this:

"I have some information that could make you a very rich woman".

"Now what would that be?"

The senior hasher proved details of this almost fool-proof, but not perhaps hasher-proof, plan of how to access free cash. The senior hasher then asked, "And what might I receive in return for this valuable information?"

"Anything you want for that amount!"

 

And so it transpired that the Jester's hat went to Cheerio Beerio to the tune of "Here's to a lady of easy virtue. She's a hasher through and through etc......." Well. Not quite. Cheerio will be sick if she drinks beer. With no WKD immediately to hand, Cheerio nominated Piddler to accept the Down-Down on her behalf. Despite the transgendering, the (Down-Down) Song Remained the same.

 

Next, it was Melonpicker's turn to tell a story. This involved the stand-off between a stubborn Ginger Tom and Slip-on-Me's dog....a lurcher I think. A Down-Down to Slip-on-Me and a note for the ginger pussy dogger.

 

Forrest was just about to wrap up proceedings by asking, "Where's next week's hash running from?" when Coldtits came forward. She had the Hashit shirt from the previous week. It was also the Old Hashshit shirt that had been in hiding for at least 6 months until Smellie had mysteriously found it in her bag (the culprit's still out there Smellie). I really cannot remember the misdemeanor for the life of me. However, the shirt went to Pisswell and I'm sure for good reason.

 

We concluded the evening with Soapy handing out cake to celebrate Melopicker's upcoming birthday. Regrettably, it was a bought cake so we were not treated to one of Soap's fantastic works of art. It always seems such a shame to cut into any of Soapy's cakes. There really has been a fantastic selection over the years!

 

Epilogue

Well, this wasn't quite the end of the evening; a rather sorry tale to tell. As Hashers were leaving the pub a rather dejected-looking Bobbiball scuffled past. He looked up forlornly, "It's my birthday tomorrow" and left. I am so sorry Bobby. I had no idea. Next week. Next week.

 

Next week

 

Hound Tor car park with Hare, Pisswell assisted by Beefy. The On-Down is The Rugglestone.

On-On to next week

A SPANISH INQUISITION AND OAP WALKABOUT (1971)

TVH3 The Words for 9th May 2022 - Lord Nelson, Kingskerswell - Run No. 1916

 

HARES: Shitfaced & Bluebird

 

A tiny figure could be discerned walking along the roadside verge of the South Devon Expressway. Zooming in from a motorway camera, more detail emerged. It was an elderly gentleman, smartly, if not rather bizarrely attired in white flannel trousers with a red windcheater and white baseball cap. He was carrying a shopping bag and was limping. To be continued..

 

Who wuz there: Shitfaced, Bluebird, Man-Pig, Archangel, Beefy, Ernie, Rambo, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Pollyfella, Pork Torpedo, Hornie, Melonpicker, Soapy, Strap-On, Strap dancer, Manopause, Wet-Johnny, Broadshit, Bobbiball, Zoot, Hotlips, Slip on Me, Able Semen.

 

The Circle

The Circle started with an inquisition! On arriving at the Circle, Man-Pig was under instant interrogation by Shitfaced:

"Where were you Man-Pig? I messaged you this morning at 7.10. The Hares are Shitfaced and FRIENDS.."

 

A bewildered Man-Pig reached for his pocket. Pulled out his phone and went to the Facebook Messenger app - no messages from Shitfaced.

Nevertheless, in the face of technological calamity, Bluebird was contacted successfully to do the needful.

 

Announcements - just the one as Bluebird unsuccessfully launched an appeal for Shantymen for an upcoming music festival from the Two Mile Oak - complete with a quick 'Haul Away' demonstration which probably convinced the suspicious little huddle not to get involved.

 

Over to Shitfaced, who merely advised that the Walkers was half the length of the Shorts and that the Longs was......err....longer. Additionally, a show of hands for food in the pub afterwards. About ten hashers raised their hands for chicken casserole and bread.

 

The Trail

The trail headed up Fluder Hill to the first junction where the Walkers and the Shorts bore right and down Southey Lane. The Walkers had a leisurely route down Southey Lane and turned right, straight across the A380 and then a jaunt around the playing fields before returning to the pub via Fore Street.

The Shorts, meanwhile, turned left up the A380 heading towards Torquay. This took them on the footbridge over the railway and top the concrete footpath onto Eginswell Lane. The trail then headed back to Kingskerswell viaWhilborough Road and Huxnor Road. Just before Huxnor Road changes name to Yon Street, an arrow had us turning left and down the new service road parallel to the Kingskerswell bypass.

 

At the end of the service road, we arrived at the second, and last, Long/Short split. The Shorts climbed the steep embankment up to the quarry car park and then turned right onto Maddacombe Road followed by another right and almost immediately left down Church End Road. A right onto the lower end of Yon street and finally left onto Rose Hill to rejoin the Walkers.

 

Meanwhile, the Longs continued their interminable climb up Fluder Hill. Just as the ascent levels off, we came to the first check. Wet-Johnny carried straight on, Beefy went left and Pollyfella checked right. Eventually an "On-On". it was Pollyfella. The trail took us right and down Kingskerswell Road to Riviera Way. 

 

An arrow directed us right and along the A380 towards Kingskerswell. Soon we were rejoining the Shorts at the footbridge over the railway line near the petrol station. At this stage, the pack comprised Pollyfella, Man-Pig, Wet-Johnny, Beefy, Ernie, Broadshit and Manopause. Along Eginswell Lane we caught up and overtook Rambo, Coldtits and Smellie. Then there was a long gap before we encountered Zoot, Hotlips, Horny, and Pork Torpedo.

 

There was a check at the junction of Whilborough Road and Edginswell Lane. Pollyfella checked left up Whilborough Lane whilst the Pg carried straight on. Only one dot but the Pig persevered and eventually got back on trail at the bottom of Huxnor Lane. At the second Long/Short split, the Longs turned away from Kingskerswell as the trail took us up Doctor Mac's Lane. 

 

Just before reaching North Whilborough, an arrow had us yomping up Common Lane and across Whilborough Common and Kerswell Downs. The dry weather had left this part of the trail stoney and uneven underfoot i.e. not very quick. The trail exited at the old Quarry next to Foredown Kennels where we rejoined the Shorts. For the second time on trail, we passed Rambo and Coldtits. Thence on to the On-Down and a pint of Naked lady!

 

'HIS HARE-RAISING TALE' (1951 Warner Bros. Looney Tunes short)

Loitering like a racecourse tout, the on-trail hare (Shitfaced had wisely adjourned immediately to the bar) was on the lookout for hashers wanting a 'short-cut'. Melon Picker politely demurred, as did Coldtits and S M Ellie before two likely lasses approached.

 

'Short-cut through to Kerswell Downs ladies?' enquired the tout. Able and Slip on Me hesitated but were hooked on the dubious enterprise. 'Are you sure we can get through?' asked Able, peering suspiciously down the embankment which seemed heavily overgrown. 'Of course! I've been through before with no problems and look, there are some other walkers down there!' replied the shady tout.

Their fate now sealed, the trio plus Muttley set off on the jolly jaunt. Whatamistakatomaka!

 

All went well for all of a hundred yards when the safari came upon the walkers sitting beside a stream that barred the way. The drop and span of the obstacle indicated impending disaster for those foolhardy enough to attempt the crossing and The Adventurers (1970) wisely hoisted the white flag and retreated to whence they had previously come. 

 

However, Henry Morton Stanley - in search of the lost short-cut - was made of sterner stuff and vowed to continue - come what may .... Sigh. 

 

The vegetation became ever denser and more exotic and a machete was Shirley needed now. Treacherous was the wetlands and desperate was the Flightless One. Further progress was now impossible and the Bird looked for the exit from A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984). 

 

Carefully scaling the barbed wire fence adjacent to the carriageway and clambering over the metal crash rail, the Birdbrain triumphantly screeched to the gods on high: 'Salvation! I'm free at last!'

But there was a problem, a serious problem. Clearly, pedestrians should not be making their way along the verge. Warning lights from oncoming vehicles flashed and the ag-ed pensioner, still clutching his shopping bag, fled for the flyover bridge in the distance. 

 

An hour later, with hardly two miles on the Garmin, a dishevelled and badly shaken figure rejoined the trail just by Man-Pig's abode.

 

The apparition frantically waved at S M Ellie and Coldtits for assistance but was merely waved back at by the two shorts who thought nothing of the Bird's bizarre antics.

 

Wet Johnny and Pollyfella swept past, closely pursued by Beefy, but the Bird was too shattered to speak and grimly made his way to the bar for a much-needed encounter with a Naked Lady.

 

The Down-Downs

Once the scoff had been devoured, it was time for the Down-Downs - Justice Pig presiding.

First up was Smellie who had inadvertently taken the Hashshit shirt home with her three weeks previously. Although the shirt had been officially awarded to U-Bend, some cunning devil had sneaked it into Smellies's bag - unbeknown to Smellie. The Clouseau-like inquisition no.2 commenced with first U-Bend being named as a person of interest. This then progressed onto another suspect whose identity eludes me. 

 

Finally, the spotlight fell on Coldtits. Not for the first time, an investigation has been pursued by the victim on behalf of the guilty and resulting in the prosecution of the innocent. The guilty party is still out there planning his(or her) next diabolic deed.

 

Nonetheless, Coldtits came forward to despatch her half a pint of water to a song that I've never heard before delivered by our very own Songmeister, Pork Torpedo.

 

Coldtits duly delivered the Horned Hat to Able Semen for soliciting business en-route with co-solicitor Slip-on-Me. Before departing, Ernie had mentioned they had also been seen short-cutting - if only the hash had known what really happened out there.

 

Pork Torpedo revealed that it was Soapy and Melonpicker's 7th wedding anniversary this very day and they both had a DD to celebrate.

 

The Curse of Chucky (2013) and the badges continued as a 50th run badge was awarded to Strap-On but was immediately rescinded as he had taken possession six months ago - must be a 75th run badge then!

 

Finally, 200th run badges were correctly given out to both Zoot and Hotlips.

 

We thanked the pub for the beer and casserole and the night was done, except that the hares seemed to have been overlooked - or had I had too many Naked Ladies, Grand Master?

 

POSTSCRIPT

A Night to Remember (1958) indeedy. First came The Search (1948) for Man-Pig before trail laying and then yet another calamitous adventure in the Badlands (1973) below the South Devon Expressway. For a few moments there, I thought I was in trouble.

 

Someone told me in the pub (MP?) that the farmer who owned the marshy strip had invested in trees and other plants, probably to prevent A Passage to India (1984) and Kerswell Downs. I am still haunted by my anguished cries on the video I took en routey..

 

If I had been apprehended, I had carefully rehearsed my 'addled little old man' routine - which is getting more realistic as time goes on... sigh.

 

A relief to get out and see everyone, including Bobby who dropped by for his Naked Lady as well.

Time to say goodbye from Man-Pig and goodbye from me until the next time.

 

Next week

Chudleigh car park with Hares Melonpicker and Soapy. the On-Down is the Bishop Lacy which Robin and Wendy are opening especially for us. Bravo.

 

On-On to next week.

PERFECT TEN (2019)

 

Run No. 1915 TVH3 The Words for 2nd May 2022

Circle-up from South Brent Railway Station Car Park

 

HARE: Man-Pig

 

Who wuz there: Man-Pig, Beefy, Shitfaced, Ernie, Rambo, Big End, Well Hopped, Ned, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie.

 

The Circle

The Circle was, erm, well - small. Only ten souls arrived at South Brent (Primrose Junction) station car park for the May Bank Holiday hash. Bank holidays are always quite iffy to call in respect of numbers. Some people are on holiday, others have visitors staying and some have "looking after the children" commitments. 

 

The weather also didn't help; Sunday and Monday were more damp than raining. Shitfaced also commented on the distance. Historically, South Brent has never been out of area for Teign Valley Hash. We have had several hashes from here in the past, usually hared by Poacher. Other regular "far away" venues have, in the past, included Dunsford, Halwell, Drewsteignton, Exeter, Mortonhampstead and Chagford. So, South Brent is not so far really. 

 

However, 10 is not the lowest TVH3 turnout recorded on a bank holiday. I do recall a McWot trail about 17 years ago, in Kingskerswell. It was the August bank holiday. We had eight!*

Shitfaced announced that there were no announcements and then waited another ten minutes to see if anyone else would turn up. By 7.30 ,it was over to the Hare.

 

Man-Pig confirmed that there was a Walkers', Shorts' and Longs'. Approximate distances: 1.5 miles, 4.5 miles and 5.5 miles. There would be quite a few back checks. Some blank faces suggested that I might have reverted back to my native gaelic in my final sentence. The Pig clarified what a back check was and everyone seemed happy enough.

 

The Trail

The trail was simple. In basic terms we were going up the River Avon on its southwest side and returning back along its northeast side.

 

The Walkers would follow the trail up to Penstave Copse. Here they could go off-trail and follow any of the paths within this piece of woodland which is managed by the Woodland Trust. They would, eventually, always come back to the marked trail as there are only two ways in and out of the copse. They would then backtrack on the outward trail back to the car park......Simples!

 

The Shorts would carry on up to Didworthy and then follow the public footpath back to South Brent via Lutton.

 

The Longs would do the Shorts plus a two Long/Short splits. The first L/S split was at Binnamore Cross and took the Longs on a half mile loop up around Badworthy before rejoining the Shorts opposite the junction for Didworthy. 

 

The second Long/Short split had the Longs on another loop. Instead of heading straight into Didworthy, they looped up to Shipley Bridge and then back into Didworthy via the public footpath.....but only after having encountered another back check.

 

The Walkers comprised Piltdown Man, George Porgey and Smellie. Smellie was still recovering from a bad cold and was also having treatment for a tight tendon in her foot. Hence no running for at least a month. 1.5 miles seemed too short and 4.5 miles too long given her foot injury. We agreed on a happy medium. "Wander around the woods until you've covered 2.5 miles and then walk back to the pub. The woods are very pretty this time of year". And that is what Smellie did.

 

The Shorts had Big End, Well Hopped and Ned running it all. At the more relaxed end of the athletic spectrum Rambo and Shitfaced walked the entire Shorts trail and weren't even late for the pub!

Only Beefy and Ernie committed to both of the Longs and they were quite close together. It was good to see Beefy back after a two week absence due to covid and my apologies to Ernie as I missed him off last week's Words.

 

The Down-Downs

Back in the pub everyone commented on how nice the run was. It is the time of year that the bluebells are out in force on the moor; especially in woodland. Frankly, you could hardly move for bluebells. It was a very picturesque trail with three viewpoints marked en route. It was a shame that the weather wasn't a bit better - the views would have been even more stunning.

 

The pub cum cafe had opened especially for us. The owner, Richard, is an ex South Hams hasher. He had got a pin (36 pints) of Dartmoor Jail Ale in especially for us as the cafe doesn't usually do draught ale. Additionally, he had put on a Hash menu for us. A choice of vegetable chilli with rice and tacos or mild chicken curry with rice and pappadoms for £6 a head. The chilli was lovely and I think the curry went down well too.

 

Because Richard had gone out of his way for us, everyone returned to the On Down and virtually everyone ordered food - even if it was only to have as a takeaway. Richard wasn't at all disappointed that we only had ten hashers present and he made us very welcome. 

 

In fact, the low turnout meant that we could all join in a single conversation without splintering into smaller groups. It was all rather convivial.

 

After devouring the scoff, it was on to the Down-Downs. I hadn't dared be cheeky enough to ask the pub to sub us the Down-Down drinks so we paid for four halves of Jail Ale but, to whom should they go?

 

Beefy had the only physical award; the Baby Bat Hat award from three weeks ago. The contenders were Georgy Porgy as Chocco had a poo less than fifty yards after leaving the car park.

 

However, there then ensued a story about a hasher referring to the marks as having been laid in dust and not flour! Man-Pig then elaborated that Ernie had been quite right. The price of flour has shot up to a punitive 90p a bag. The Scotsman in Man-Pig took over the driving seat, "I'm nay paying that!", in a Private Fraser accent. "I know. I can use the dust in the vase on the mantlepiece. Well, more urn than vase".

 

And so it was that poor Rusty's ashes were employed for the good of the hash. This must mean a note for the dustman but, as we all know, dustmen are members of the National Union of Refuse Disposal Engineers - NURDE for short. Hence a note for the Nurde as Urnie sorry, Ernie took his Down-Down.

Second up was Shitfaced. He had a story to recount (or should that be recant?). Anyway, it concerned the sheer gall of a hasher who had the balls to go into print on Facebook and tell the world that he had been sucked-off on the hash. Some clarification, please?

 

Shitfaced elaborated that the lucky blighter was our very own Man-Pig. "Wot? Me? I hardly ever use Facebook!". More elaboration. The story actually originated from a Facebook post by Man-Pig referring to tics that had attached themselves at last week's Hash. As the old saying goes, "Never let the truth get in the way of a good story".

 

Beefy then led the "Hold it in your hand Mrs Murphy" song for Man-Pig's down-down.

There were two drinks left. Were there any more stories? There were none so the final Down-Downs went to the Hare and to Smellie for being the last back to the pub.

 

Despite the numbers, I think everyone enjoyed the trail and the views. The pub was incredibly welcoming and would be delighted to have us back. We must think of setting another trail from here in the future. Our thanks to Richard, the owner/landlord, for making us so welcome.

 

ADDENDUM

The Bank Holiday hash was originally Thomas Cooked under the heading: BB's Birthday Trail, but events conspired against me and I was unable to discharge my duty. Apparently, whilst reporting my cancellation to the pack, Man-Pig seemed to have 'volunteered' himself and subsequently planned an extravaganza like no other.

 

Beefy nearly persuaded me to come along - if only to do the walkers' trail - but I could not risk leaving the house that evening.

 

You can only try to imagine my disappointment for the valiant Man-Pig when I saw how few had turned out. However, when I scanned Beefy's FB images, I realised what a great trail we had missed out on. And MP is spot on when he stated that a small turnout can be just as good fun - remember that post Christmas trail from the Kings Arms?

 

I am really pleased that next week's edition is from the Nellie and, perhaps, all fingers tightly crossed, I can partly repay Man-Pig's favour.

 

ON ON, BB

 

* The all time 'record' low turnout for a TV hash was also to McWot and Vera on a Bank Holiday Monday. Only one hasher appeared and McWot and Vera drove the hasher (the identity unknown) around part of the trail before adjourning to the pub.

 

Next week

Lord Nelson, Kingskerswell with Hare, Shitfaced (and friends!).

 

On-On to next week, MP

MONDAY'S MAP MAY 2ND

 

'THE ONLY WAY IS UP' by Man-Pig

TVH3 The Words for 25th April 2022 - Bridford Inn, Teign Valley 

 

Run No. 1914

 

HARES: Forrest Stump & Man-Pig

 

Who wuz there: Forrest-Stump, Man-Pig, Shitfaced, Arkangel, Pollyfella, Only Here for the Beer, Piltdown Man, Georgy-Porgy, Rambo, Fallen Woman, Coldtits, Piddler, Strap-On, Pisswell, Krystyna (Pisswell's friend), Swinger, Well Hopped, Wood-Lend, Warmfront, Pork Torpedo, Horny, Wet-Johnny, Erection, Manopause, Melon-Picker, Soapy, Slip-on-Me.

 

The Circle

The bright sunny weather, and the promise of one of Forest's excellent trails, combined to result in a full 27 souls making the long journey to Bridford (not Cridford and not Bradford!). Well, not Cridford for 26 out of 27! It further resulted in an above average number of hashers electing to do the Longs. In fact I understand that 14 Hashers undertook the Longs....and well worth it. A testament to the quality of Forest's trails.

 

Forrest's description of the trail was brief to say the least. He dropped a handful of sawdust on the ground and said, "The marks look like this". And, with that, we were off.

 

The Trail

The trail took us back up the village and left past the church. At the rear of the church was the first Long/Short split. The Longs went left and around the newish (4 year old) footpath/boardwalk before looping around the top of the village. At this point the usual suspects were FRB'ing: Wood-Lend, Warmfront, Wet Johnny, Pollyfella, Erection, Manopause - no Beefy this week. Beefy is now covid negative but still a little drained. But where were Pisswell and Krystyna? We assumed that, as she had her friend with her, she might opt for the Shorts or the Walkers. What a foolish thought to entertain?

The Longs came to a check at the entrance to a ploughed field and, sure enough, this proved to be the trail. After only 50 yards of field, it was back into a landscaped part of the village that I've never been to. One part of it is a small, nicely mowed, area. It has an arc of steps and looks a little like a very small Roman amphitheatre.

 

Trying hard to keep up with Wood-Lend, we re-entered the village above the church to rejoin the Shorts' and the Walkers' trails. The first check had been kicked out and we headed down Pound Lane catching up with the last of the Walkers, Arkangel, Fallen Woman and Slip-on-Me. The next check had also been kicked out. It was right and down the footpath that takes you past Pook's Cottages. All very picturesque. On running down the access road to Pook's VCottages, I passed Shitfaced and Only Here for the Beer. "There's a lot of downhill here Man-Pig", was Shitfaced's comment. I looked dead ahead to the enormous wooded hill in front of us. "Not for long", I replied.

 

At the bottom of the access road, we came to the minor road that connects Bridford to Christow. It was straight across and to the Walkers/Long & Short split where Forrest was waiting for us with some new instructions. "If you are not a fit Short, you may want to do the Walkers' trail?".

 

The Walkers and sensible Shorts, went straight up the woodland steps that would eventually take them up past Scatter Rock Quarry. This is about a 150m change in elevation but, believe me, this was by far the easiest option. Forrest had got permission (well, so he says) to run on private land. This had the Longs and the fitter Shorts climbing over a gate marked "Private Property. No Entry" in ready typescript.

 

The trail then took us in a long loop past another disused quarry until we came to a peculiar mark on the ground - a fishhook with the number 8 below it. Dutifully, Manopause, Erection, Swinger and Well-Hopped waited for the co-hare to arrive before setting off again. However, where were Wood-Lend, Warmfront, Polyfella and Wet-Johnny?

 

By this time, Pork Torpedo, Horny and Piddler (sans ski poles) had caught up and we set off on the trail again. Just as we rounded a bend to our right, our hearts sank. What appeared before us was a dead straight clearing in the woods for as far a the eye could see. It was a very steep incline and looked for all the world as though it should have a ski lift running up it it. In fact, if you'd thought this you'd very nearly be right. This is because in 1913 a cable car system was built here by German engineers. This was to transport ore from the quarries all the way down to Christow railway station. It was just as well that the Germans had finished building it in 1913 or they would have spent the next 4 years in an internment camp!

 

Earlier in the day, when laying the trail, I had seen seven deer along this part of the trail. All very rewarding to see nature in their natural habitat.

 

After a 400 yard climb, the trail took us right and across an open field and over a dry stone wall and back into woodland but, then, no trail. This is where the Hares had got disorientated for the best part of an hour earlier in the day.

 

Man-Pig, Pork Torpedo, Horny and Piddler were at the back of the pack, or so we thought. We followed a couple of marks till they ran out and then, trusting to Hare's insider knowledge, continued downhill off-trail. It would only be a matter of time before we rejoined the Walkers' trail. Eventually, back on trail we ran uphill to where Forrest had relaid the dodgy steep descent through the woods. Forrest was dutifully calling to make sure that no-one got lost in this, the most challenging, part of the trail. Forrest confirmed that everyone else had been through and that we were the last. Well, not quite. No-one had seen Pisswell. Had she elected to do the walkers' trail and was now well in front of us or was she at the back of the Long? Only time would tell.

 

Forrest said that he would wait a while and keep calling whilst the four tail-end charlies continued up to the gorse heathland. We passed a field full of llamas who, apparently, spat at Forrest, this was just before joining the lane that links Hennock with Bridford.

 

An arrow had us running up this lane for 400 yards towards Hennock and past a filed full of sheep and gambolling lambs. Just past this field was another Walkers/Long & Shorts split at Middle Hole.

We all elected to carry on past Higher Hole and Heckland to a T-junction. An arrow guided us right, but only for 50 yards to a check. This had been kicked-out straight on towards the Clampitt Plantation and Kennick Reservoir.

 

Just past Clampitt House was the last of the Long/Short splits. It was 8.35pm and just beginning to get dipsey. Pork Torpedo asked how far the Longs was. "About a mile and a half longer than the Shorts but a straightforward run", answered the co-hare. Pork Torpedo and Horny courageously opted for the Long. Excellent. A reticent Piddler was left with the choice of a lonesome run on the Shorts or do the Longs. Pork Torpedo agreed that we should stick together as a group and so the Famous Four sallied forth to engage with the final Long.

 

This took us first straight and then right past the piggery. We were on main paths and heading towards the reservoir. At our nearest point to the reservoir, a kicked-out check had us running up the last hill of the evening. Thank goodness. This took us across the Laployd Plantation heading for the Beacon Plantation; these are all fir tree plantations. Just as the hill levelled off, we came to the penultimate check. It was then right and along a trail that leads to the edge of the plantation above an escarpment with lovely views across the fields. Horny commented, "Not a man-made structure in sight, lovely". She was right.

 

A little further we came to a large rock that had been eroded away at its base. This could provide shelter in the event of a downpour. It also had the letters "PR" written next to it in sawdust. What has Forrest been up to now? Apparently, when Pisswell had first seen this rock many years ago she asked Forest about its name. Forrest didn't know its name so he notionally named it, "Pisswells Rock". Hence the PR.

 

A little further on, we came to the last check - kicked-out of course. Another 300 yards and an arrow directed us left. We had joined up with the Shorts. Unsurprisingly, no Shorts in sight. It was distinctively dipsey now so time for the torches. However, Horney and Piddler had no form of illumination. That wasn't really a problem. Man-Pig and Pork Torpedo had torches and it was a simple 3/4 mile straight path back to the pub. The only issue being tree roots for the first 300 yards. The final leg back to the pub had us rejoin the Walkers' trail just above Lower Hole. We all commented on how lovely the old granite house looked at Lower Hole. At this point the footpath widens to a vehicular track that is tarmac...... in places. At the bottom of the track we crossed Rookery Brook. This is where the Hares had realised that they had far too much sawdust left over. For, in front of us were two "OH" signs. One was huge with a smily face.

 

The last 200 yards took us up a slight incline, past the Old Rectory, and back to the pub. It was 9.15pm and 5.9 miles on the clock. Well done to Piddler, Pork Torpedo and Horny for keeping me company on the Longs. I really had thought that I'd be doing it on my lonesome.

 

And a well done to Forrest. Another excellent trail as many had commented on in the pub. Well up to your usual very high standards.

 

The Down-Downs

Back in the pub Dale (or is that Darren?), the Landlord, had saved some scoff for latecomers. Sausage and chips at £5 a head. It was a tad late so it was pretty much straight into the Down-Downs. Forrest tossed a coin to decide who would be RA for the evening. Forrest won....or should that be lost?

The first award of the evening was lost property. Shitfaced had found a pair of glasses in the pub car park. These proved to be Forrest Stump's. Fortunately, we had the Teign Valley songmeister with us for the evening. Accordingly, Pork Torpedo led the down-downs with:

 

"He doesn't kiss the girls anymore.

He likes them short and hairy.

Whoops he's a fairy"....down, down, down etc.

 

Next up was Forrest himself. This time looking someone deserving of the Baby Bat Hat award. This went to Horny for alleged interminable whingeing about the trail. After a bit of reticence, Pork Torpedo fired up with a very fast ditty. Something about barrels and orrifices.....splendid!

 

Next it was Man-Pig's turn to find a suitable recipient for the substitute Jester's Hat. There then followed an exhaustive investigation into who had been the first of the FRB's to ignore the fishhook. The suspects comprised Wet-Johnny, Warmfront and Pollyfella. What followed was an awful lot of finger pointing which ultimately lead the Pig to award the hat to Wood-Lend. I'm afraid that I have no idea what song the Songmeister came up with but it was short!

 

The final award of the night was the other Jester's Hat. Wet-Johnny's initial candidate had been Piddler for going to the Cridford Inn by mistake - well, at least it wasn't Bradford! There followed a story about using Google Maps to find the quickest route to Bridford from Ipplepen. Having opted for the fastest route it wasn't long before they found themselves crawling along the Teign Valley at a snail's pace. This would be Warmfront on her bicycle holding everyone up. Once the road straightened no cyclist could be seen. However, the lead car was strangely familiar; a dark blue Mercedes SLK. This proved to be Coldtits doing her best to save the planet be seeing if she could eke out 40+mpg on the way to the pub. Coldtits was driving....obviously....so elected to have water as a down-down. Again, I cannot remember the down-down song. Suffice it to say that the songmeister did us proud by treating us to a different song for every down-down.

 

Coldtits choice of water left a final half pint looking for an empty mouth. Forrest put it to the floor to vote on. "Who should have the final half? The Hare or the Co-hare?" The Co-hare was nominated and dispatched the half in pretty swift order. Again, a different song from the songmeister.

 

This almost concluded the evening. Apart form another case of lost property. Pisswell and her friend, Krystyna, were still out on trail and Forrest was beginning to look worried. It was 10 o'clock and people were leaving the pub. The pub was also scheduled to close at 10.30. However, never fear. No hasher ever misses last orders. Sure enough, Pisswell and Krystyna appeared at ten past ten....plenty of time to get last orders.

 

Thankyou to all who made the effort to come all the way out to Bridford, especially Fallen Woman on the night before a 2 month extravaganza in the camper van. That's dedication for you.

 

Next week

Station Cafe, South Brent with Hare Man-Pig. Parking is just up the road at the old railway station car park. The cafe was formerly the Oak Pub. It has a good selection of bottled beers and usually does not do draught ale. However, the landlord (ex-hasher) is putting on a pin (36 pints) of Legend or Jail Ale especially for the hash. A hash menu is available with a choice of vegetable chilli with tacos or mild chicken curry and papadums for £6.

 

On-On to next week.