TVH3 The Words for 17th April 2023

Red Rock Brewery, Humber: National NBC Alert

 

Run. No. 1965

 

HARES: Big End & Well Hopped

 

Who wuz there: Big End, Well Hopped, Man-Pig, Shitfaced, Arkangel, Forrest Stump, Wood-Lend, Soapy, Melonpicker, Beefy, Pisswell, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Pork Torpedo, Horny, Beeflicker, Slip-on-Me, Ablesemen, Ernie, U-Bend, Wetfart, Bluebird, Wet Johnny, Fukarewe, Cold Tits, Broadsheet, Pollyfella, Threesum, Martin, Rise 'n' Shine, Mateus Rose & Satnav.

 

Circle

We are a myopic lot - us Hashers. Eyesight is obviously not our strongpoint. We don't see the clock ticking and find ourselves arriving late. We don't read the Words or the Facebook notifications properly and we end up going to the wrong venue. Perhaps our most recurring error is simply to follow the person in front? We don't look at the ground. We don't see the marks, and we all get off trail.

 

And so it was last night....and the trail hadn't even begun! We all drove down the drive to the Red Rock brewery tap house. We all saw cars, parked on tarmac, in front of the tap house and duly parked next to them. Only one solitary Hasher used his eyes. He saw the sign on the blackboard next to a five bar gate. The sign read, quite simply, "Parking". Setting off for the start of the trail we gazed lazily at the solitary, metallic blue, Honda Jazz; alone in a huge field. More alone than usual. This one had lost its best friend....its keys!

 

Shitfaced called the Circle to order. The first query was to Smellie re the Diary.

"No. I have no announcements. the diary is full up to the 12th June".

 

Next Shitfaced welcomed back returnee, Wetfart - but maybe he shouldn't have. Wetfart has been on nursemaid duties since his wife took a tumble down some steps. I understand that she is now well on the road to recovery. What had not recovered in the intervening two months was Wetfart's backside. Despite being outside, Wetfart's "silent but deadly" was still of room clearing quality. If this had happened post 23rd April everyone's phones would have pinged at the same time. A text message from Porton Down alerting of a NBC (Nuclear Biological Chemical) attack in the Humber area of South Devon.

 

Once the air had cleared, and those closest to the blast had been airlifted to hospital, Big End gave us the low down on the run. Rather, and more accurately, the "high ups" on the run.

"It will be all uphill; Walkers' 2.5 miles; Shorts' 3.5 miles; Longs' 7 miles. Stay out as long as possible as we don't yet know the half-life of Wetfart's SBD".

 

Verdafukdidweego?

Firstly, an apology. I usually do the Longs' and hence The Words tend to record only what happened on the Longs' trail. The names of the usual FRB's are repeated week in and week out. This means that those on the Shorts' and the Walkers' barely get a mention which is a pity. The remedy is simple, Bluebird and I can do the Shorts' and the Walkers' trails. 

 

A better solution would be for a Walker or Short to have a go at the Words. We all have different styles and it would make a welcome change to read someone else's take on the trail once in a while. Please - give it a go. You may just enjoy it!

 

The FRB's who didn't want to clock up the full 7 miles were encouraged to miss the first Long but commit to the second as the views were spectacular. If you weren't too tired, try the third Long but do not miss the second Long.

 

We cantered down the drive and turned right towards Lindridge Park and the first split; Walkers' to the left, Longs' and Shorts' trails to the right. This took the Longs and the Shorts through the tiny hamlet of Humber. I had been speaking with Melonpicker about the Chiefs dismal performance against Leicester Tigers the previous day. Hence I was at the back of the pack. As we passed through Humber on an uphill climb, I passed Smellie, Soapy, Pork Torpedo and Horny. This was to be the first of three times that this would happen over the next 6 miles or so.

 

I passed Piswell and caught up with Broadsheet and, returnee, Fukarewe. This was just before arrows had us bear right and down the lovely farm track that takes us down to the Elizabethan public house at Luton. Fukarewe was looking tanned and healthy as he had just returned from Portugal. Sixteen months of very intermittent running appeared to be a thing of the past as Fukarewe looked very comfortable in his stride. 

 

He would continue to look comfortable for the next 6.4 miles as he and Broadsheet bounded along 2 of the 3 longs that laid ahead of us. In fact, Fukarewe seemed so comfortable that it was a job to get past him!

 

Somewhere, way in front, were Beeflicker and Wood-Lend. I would not see them again till the bar. Just before the Elizabethan there was our first check. Polyfella was running back from the direction of the Elizabethan shouting, "False trail". I kicked it out only to find Wet-Johnny stopped in the middle of the track with a twig in his hand. Was he water divining I asked?

 

Apparently not but I never did find out what he was doing. The three of us carried on for a few yards, crossing a muddy puddle, before coming to the first Long/Short split.

 

The Longs went right and up the steep road towards Teignmouth golf course. The Shorts turned left and back, on road, towards the Elizabethan. The Longs was a simple loop that rejoined the Shorts at a T-junction bend just west of Luton. 

 

The trail then took both the Longs and the Shorts towards Ideford but, at a hairpin bend we arrived at the second Long/Short split. This was a cunning but jolly long loop. Little did we know that had we gone just 50 yards to our left we would have rejoined the Shorts. 

 

As it was, the Longs went right and up and up Rixafer Road. At this point, I could just see Wet Johnny and Polyfella in front. Over a mile of steepish incline, overtaking Smellie, Pork Torpedo and Horny for the second time. Just past Rixford Manor the last of the Long/Short splits. 

 

The Shorts went left for about 300 yards along the lower edge of Ideford Common before turning left and down a steep and furrowed track called Towerhill Lane. We have been down this track before, but a long, long time ago - maybe 15 years!

 

The Longs continued due north along a lane on open heathland before heading west and then north again onto Ideford Common proper. At this point I had caught up with Broadsheet and Fukarewe who were both going well. 

 

Across the flat common we could still see Wet-Johnny and Polyfella. We had almost reached Colley Lane and the Ashcombe activity centre before the trail went left and ran parallel with the A380 for about 400 yards. We could clearly hear the traffic on the dual carriageway probably some 200 yards to the north of us. 

 

An arrow then had us running down a wet and water eroded track back towards woodland and Rixford Manor. At least we were going downhill at last. The marks were good but broken flint sometimes deceived to look just like flour until one got quite close.

 

Some 200 yards short of Rixford Manor, two arrows, from different directions, confirmed that we had rejoined the Shorts at the top of Towerhill Lane. Shortly thereafter, the Hares had marked a viewpoint. We also noticed a load of timber that had been piled up in the corner of a field. We wondered if this was going to be a coronation beacon? Only time will tell. 

 

The descent down Towerhill Lane was tough going. It was deeply water eroded in its centre. I caught up with Forrest and re-ignited the conversation about Sunday's rugby....."Well, there's always next season".

 

Towerhill Lane took us back into Ideford, past the church. Here I caught up with Well Hopped and followed the trail through Ideford to Luton Cross. Here an arrow took us right and down a minor lane towards Colmansford Bridge. I was on my own again and I could see lights coming towards me, car or motorbike?, I queried to myself. Neither. It was just three young lads out on their electric mountain bikes. Just past Colmansford Bridge there is a turning to the left which I know leads back to the brewery. 

 

However, in the far distance, and on the other side of the valley, I could just make out a Hasher on a different road. It looked rather like Smellie. She must be off trail I thought. Bong. Wrong. At the junction, there was a check and it had been clearly kicked out straight on.

 

Sure enough, some 150 yards up this hill, an arrow had the pack going left and then sharp left on a minor track. It looked vaguely familiar, but from a long, long time ago. After perhaps 300 yards, the track rejoined the road that I knew led back to the brewery. Smellie was just in front and Pork Torpedo, Horny and Soapy were just in front of her.

 

Salvation, at long last - the OH sign.

 

I trotted, well staggered, through Humber where I caught up with the three legged demon duo of Dastardly and Muttley, otherwise known as Arkangel and Bluebird. Both Arkangel and Bluebird were sporting walking sticks. They had, nevertheless, completed the Shorts and clocked up 3.5 miles. Bluebird asked how har I'd been. Squinting at my antiquated Garmin divulged 6.84 miles.

 

"There you go Arkangel. I told you so. The runners are almost always only twice the speed of the Walkers" (Warmfront excepted).

 

By the time we reached the car park, it was getting decidedly dipsy. However, for the first time this year we had managed the entire trail unaided by torchlight. 

 

Finally, just as I had finished changing, Broadsheet and Fukarewe came trotting down the driveway - really looking quite refreshed. Hopefully, Fukarewe is now fully recovered and we should be seeing a lot more of him.

 

Down-Downs

Following the AGPU, we were treated to a new RA for the evening, Pork Torpedo. In time honoured fashion thanked the brewery for the beer. He additionally, thanked Jackie who seems to be perpetually coming out of retirement just to serve TVH3 a pie and a pint. Thank you Jackie.

 

First up was Smellie. She had brought a slightly damp Hashshit shirt back from its holiday in the Czech republic. Despite the miles travelled over the previous fortnight, she had not lost the shirt. As a result, Ladbrokes and Corals had made more money from Hashers betting on a lost shirt than they'd made on Saturday's Grand National. 

 

Smellie recounted stories of the Shirt's international adventures with the Prague Hash. This included a story about a domestic incident regarding the whereabouts of a wife's mobile phone. This involved several hours of backtracking train journeys and false accusations only to find that it had been in her pocket all the time (shades of the Idiot on the Fire Hash). 

 

It is good to know that hash stupidity is not confined to national borders. Obviously the shirt was not going to go to a hasher in the Czech republic. But it might just go to a Hasher who cleared the Circle with his SBD and then proceeded to blame Smellie. Step up Wetfart, and Pork Torpedo launches into, "He ought to be publicly pissed on......"

 

Next up was Beeflicker with the Turkish wedding hat and a story of lost property. Beeflicker had found a bunch of keys for a Honda. Now, Pork Torpedo would have welcomed this piece of information having become available some 40 minutes earlier. 

 

Master locksmith, Pork Torpedo, had just spent these 40 minutes skilfully breaking into a Hasher's car. However, Pork Torpedo was not nearly as thankful as Arkangel was to have been reunited with his keys.

 

The only other award present on the night was the Bacardi hat which Pork Torpedo was safeguarding. This he gave to Smellie who was merrily crossing a piece of private farmland in search of some non-existent marks. "Love me tender. Love me sweet. Wrap your lips etc etc....."

 

One last lonely half looking for a tummy plus a half of water. Were there any stories? Yes. Wetfart had one. This was a story about a posse of Hashers who had ground to a halt as they tried to figure out a route around an awesome puddle. Was it deep? We'll never know.

Whilst they were pondering wet and muddy trainers, Wetfart came around the corner only to tell them that they were off trail. The correct trail was nice and dry and some 15 yards behind them. The guilty parties - Martin and Threesum.

 

Next week

Next week's Hash is at The Lord Nelson Kingskerswell and NOT at the good ol' Park as mistakenly advised at the circle, . Our Hares for the evening are Shitfaced and, heavily reliant on his "friends".

 

On-On to next week.

TVH3 The Words for 10th April 2023

The Highweek Inn, Newton Abbot

 

Run. No. 1964

 

HARES: Ernie & Strap-On avec family members

 

 

Who wuz there: Ernie, Strap-On, Forrest Stump, Man-Pig, Shitfaced, Hotlips, Zoot, Soapy, Melonpicker, Beefy, Pisswell, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Big End, Well Hopped, Triple Jump, Pork Torpedo, Horny, Beeflicker, Slip-on-Me, Strap-Dancer, Bluebird, Wet Johnny, Erection, Piddler, U-Bend, Cold Tits, Fallen Woman (no Broken Man - he was supping ale with Trucker at the Cridford Inn), Rise 'n' Shine, Mateus Rose & (almost virgin) Nine inches!

 

Circle

An unusually busy Easter Monday saw us welcome thirty one hashers and numerous family members of the Hares who were assisting on the sweetie stop. Announcements were brief. Shitfaced had a message from Satnav regarding Teapot. Sadly, his wife, Leslie, was in hospital after suffering a stroke. This would, understandably, result in a further delay before Teapot can rejoin us.

 

Zoot had posted a newspaper article on the TVH3 Facebook page regarding Winfield's and Hovel Annie's 60th wedding anniversary. What an achievement. Well done!

 

Next week's hares also wanted an early indication of numbers wanting a pint and a pie at £5.50 a head. Hungry hashers raised their hands. Piltdown did not raise his hand as high as others and looked more reminiscent of a Hitler Youth salute.

 

The Hares promised us great things. A Walkers' Trail of about 2.5 miles. A Shorts' of circa 4 and the Longs' would be 6'ish (hmmmm.....more about the "ish" bit later). Marks could be on either the left or the right....that's useful! Far more importantly, there would be not be one but two searches for mini-Easter eggs plus the all important sweetie stop. Finally, more hands up for bubble and squeak in the pub.

 

Well, not quite finally. Pork Torpedo arrived late and nearly repeated his parking faux pas from last week. At least this week he could get out even if Horny had to navigate beer kegs in order make it into the circle. Bluebird arrived even later and proceeded to park in a non-existent parking space which prevented circular access and egress from the pub car park. How selfish?

 

Trail

The trail proved to be a counter cyclical lay with the outward Walkers' and Shorts' trail also being the return of the Longs' trail (hence the marks on both the left and right). The Longs' included a monster loop up and down the banks of the River Teign with Beefy clocking up an incredible 8.37 miles on his epic reverse walk on the Longs.

 

The first check was within 200 yards of the pub. The Shorts' and Walkers' went down Whitehill Road while the Longs' carried on along Exeter Road to Highweek church and then diverted onto the footpath below the church and back towards Pithill Road. Left down Pithill Road and left again along a narrow fenced footpath path that runs behind Coombeshead College and exits near Knowles Hill roundabout. 

 

Almost inevitably, Beeflicker was in front with Man-Pig chasing. A missed arrow at the roundabout at the top end of Jetty Marsh Road relegated the Pig to the back of the Longs' whilst Wet-Johnny, Big End, Well Hopped, Forrest Stump and Pisswell continued to chase Beeflicker.

 

The trail went left and followed the cyclepath next to the Stover canal towards Teigngrace. Halfway along this length of pathway, the pack had ground to a halt. It was the first of the Easter Egg hunts. Forrest immediately found two eggs and I think everyone else left empty handed. Determined to get my daily chocolate fix, I hunted, in vain, for the elusive eggs. Again the pack got some 400 yards in front of me and I would not see them again till the sweetie stop.

 

The SS was well manned with Ernie's daughter and grand-daughter as well as Strap-On, Strap-Dancer and Ernie himself. Some of the Shorts were still there, some had yet to arrive. Chocolate mini Easter eggs - lovely. The FRB's had already embarked on the Longs' just before I arrived at the sweetie stop.

 

For the third time, I was some 400 yards in arrears. Little did I know then that this would be the last time I'd see them in the next four miles! Pisswell and the Pig left the SS simultaneously and followed the cycle path north to just before Teigngrace. Here I noticed Wet-Johnny on a reverse trail (this proved to be the Walkers' and Shorts' outward trail) whilst Forrest SCB'd by sneaking across the canal and railway at Teigngrace station. 

 

The Longs' trail was marked east and across two fields and then downstream following the meandering Teign. Apparently, all FRB's assumed (incorrectly as it turned out) that we would join the Exeter Road, turn right and backtrack along the outward trail. BONG! WRONG!

 

Perplexingly, as I got nearer to the Exeter Road, I could hear the FRB's calling. However, they sounded as though they were to the left of me and on the other side of the Teign. Shirley not. The next crossing point is a mile back up the way we had just run but on the east bank. Sure enough, I got to the Exeter Road (close to where we usually park) only to find an arrow....LEFT!? 

 

Over the new pedestrian bridge we coursed and left again onto the upstream riverbank path. Pisswell was some 600 yards behind so I kept calling to give her some (dis) encouragement. This was going to be longer than the 6'ish miles I thought - although I had not brought my Garmin with me and I hadn't turned on Strava on the phone either.

 

Eventually, after slipping and sliding my way upstream, I got to the first bridge. Thankfully, an arrow confirmed this as the correct crossing point. I had expected to catch glimpse of the FRB's once I was on the west bank - but nothing. Then, in the distance, a yellow hi-vis. I was catching them up. Or was I? It soon dawned on me that this hi-vis was coming towards me. "Lost trail?" I thought. No. It was Beefy who was walking the Longs trail but in reverse. He was also looking for Pisswell who was probably some 800 yards behind at this point. The marks were good though. There shouldn't have been much chance of anyone getting lost. But, you can never tell with Hashers. A brief exchange of pleasantries, including Beefy's doubts as to whether he'd be back in time for the Down-Downs, and we both went on our merry ways.

 

As expected, the trail followed the Teign before crossing three fields, passing the basin on the Stover Canal and rejoining tarmac at Ventiford Lodge. Arrows then had us on road for the rest of the trail. The road between Ventiford Lodge and the Exeter Road is a very minor road. There is only Hope Farm, Teigngrace and the caravan park at Twelve Oaks Farm along its route. Nevertheless, four or five cars passed in the space of a mile.

 

The marks began to get a little confusing. They were on both the left and the right and, from Teigngrace onwards, most marks on the right were arrows with a big "L" below them. This was where the Longs were running against the Shorts' outward trail. 

 

By the time that we'd hit the Exeter Road for the third (strictly fourth) time, I'd caught up with Beeflicker, Big End and Well Hopped who had run out of marks. "Go right", it's the shortest route back to the pub". Sure enough, we found marks. The trail finished by climbing up Whitehill Road which took us almost back to the pub.

 

Six'ish miles! Well, I ask you?

 

Down-Downs

Forrest was RA for the evening. He commenced by thanking the pub for the beer. He then asked what we all thought of the trail? "A great sweetie stop!"

 

Man-Pig was the first up to give away his award from last week. There were a number of potential candidates. Smellie for planning to travel back from her holidays in Prague on a bank holiday Monday when there were no trains running. She was stuck in Dover. Two SCB contenders comprising Forrest and Wet-Johnny. But the winner, by a mile (or should that be fathom?), was Pork Torpedo who had fallen in the river, albeit, not today but some twenty years past. It made no difference as PT had to sing his own Down-Down song. It was something about a magic lantern that wasn't very magic. Well, what do you expect if you buy something from a Hasher?

 

Next up was Slip-on-Me who had the Turkish wedding hat. This was awarded to Beeflicker who had left some underwear in Slip-on-Me's car. Raised eyebrows all round. Even more eyebrow raising was to come. This was not even male underwear. It was a pair of girlie socks! Pork Torpedo carried on with the story of the dodgy magic lamp. Something to do with the Sultan's camel and a secret hidey-hole.

 

Bluebird had the Jester's Hat but no story as he hadn't seen a soul on his truncated walking trail. Hence he deferred to Forrest to make up a story on his behalf. 

 

Forrest recounted the story of the dizzying heights that some Hashers will go to in the pursuit of personal grooming post trail. This particular hasher had moved the front passenger seat as far forward as it would go and then climbed in the back of their car to get changed. How bashful. This must be a Harriet. The hasher rubbed themselves down very thoroughly with a soft pink towel....definitely a Harriet....and then proceeded to apply various fragrances to various body parts. Antiperspirant for pits. Hairspay and just a hint of perfume for the pub. This must be a young Harriet looking for a mate....it is spring after all. Some 40 minutes later the culprit emerged from their car, smelling of roses and looking like.....errr, well, an elderly gentleman.

 

The guilty party.....Piddler! Songmeister PT immediately came up with, "Old McDonald had tourettes".

 

One last lonely half looking for a tummy. There were two hares and at least four helpers at the sweetie stop. Who should have the beer? Eventually, Ernie managed to foist it onto a reluctant Strap-On as co-hare.

 

Next week

Next week's Hash is at The Red Rock Brewery, Humber. Our Hares for the evening are Big End and Well Hopped. Don't forget to get your orders in for a pie and a pint asap.

 

On-On to next week, MP.

TVH3 The Words for 3rd April 2023

To Hel(tor) and Back

The Bridford Inn & AGPU

 

Run. No. 1963

 

HARES: Forrest Stump & Wood-Lend

 

 

 

Who wuz there: Forrest Stump, Wood-Lend, Wood Lend's friend (very fast), Man-Pig, Shitfaced, Soapy, Melonpicker, Palmolive, Beefy, Pisswell, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Checkmate, Big End, Triple Jump, Pork Torpedo, Horny, Ablesemen, Triple-Jump, Cheerio Beerio, Threesum, Beeflicker, Slip-on-Me, Ernie, Strap-On, Strap-Dancer & Arkangel.

 

CIRCLE

We arrived, early, only to find that the car park was already almost full......but not with many cars that I recognised. In no time at all, the car park started to clear. It transpired that The Bridford Inn is the only takeaway for a ten mile radius and it is proving surprisingly popular.

Eventually, everyone got parked, though it took some people several attempts before they got a spot that was large enough to be able to open their doors and get out. More about that later.

The main topic of conversation in the Circle centred around food i.e. who had ordered what flavour pizza? Finally, Forrest-Stump delivered on what he had threatened last week i.e. a long trail, "It'll keep the AGPU brief".

 

TRAIL

An eight mile Long. Where on earth were we going? More importantly, who was going to do it? All of our usual FRB's were either missing or injured. No Warm Front, Psycho or Wet Johnny, and Beefy is still recovering from a sprained ankle. Still, last week's trail setter, Beeflicker, was in attendance. Would he take the FRB crown? Yes, as it turned out.

An early Long/Short split just to the left of the Church, and that would be the last time that the Long's saw any of the Shorts for the next hour and a half. The Longs went left and through the newish, and partially duckboarded, woodland path. The Shorts' and Walkers' continued up the footpath that runs along the left hand side of the churchyard.

 

The Longs' exited the woodland walk along a fenced footpath at the edge off a field before arriving at an arrow on tarmac. A right immediately followed by a left had us heading northwest towards Heltor View.

 

Beeflicker was well ahead followed by Woodland and friend with Man-Pig fourth. In the far distance, we could see Heltor avec a Hasher atop its summit. This proved to be Shitfaced. No, he is not a reknowned FRB. Therefore, "How so?", you ask. Simples. He had shortcutted by means of the internal combustion engine and drove himself up to Heltor.

 

But where where the Shorts and the Walkers? In front, surely? No. By the time we arrived at the view point at Heltor Rock, the only Hashers present were Shitfaced, Wood-Lend & friend, Beeflicker, Man-Pig and Big End. 

 

Retracing our steps on the way back from the view point we did bump into Horny, Pork Torpedo, Melon Picker and Palmolive. I assume that they were on the Shorts but no-one else was within sight.

 

The view point completed, the next 5 or 6 miles would be a game of Big End and Man-Pig playing catch up with Wood-Lend and friend who, in turn, were playing catch up with Beeflicker. Indeed, we caught up with Beeflicker on several occasions as he must have got every check wrong! Wood-Lend had laid the trail so Big End and I decided that staying behind him would be a wise move - assuming, of course, that we could keep up with him; which we frequently could not.

 

The first check past Heltor was at Plaston Green. Beeflicker had already found a second check not 200 yards distant. He carried on checking along the lane that is the direct route to the Blackingstone Rock. Big End checked out what looked like a well worn, but unmarked, footpath along the edge of some woodland whilst Wood-Lend hopped over a gate and into a field. The cunning (read lazy) Pig followed. This was obviously private land. However, Forrest had mentioned something about permission to cut across private land so this had to be it. And so it proved to be. 

 

The trail ran parallel with the path that Big End was on but he was on the wrong side of a hedge. He had to double back and catch us up. He should have pushed on as his track rejoined the trail only 150 yards further along.

 

The trail left the field and then followed a track past Carrapitt and Little Hay Farm. At Laployd Barton, the track joined a lane and the trail took us right and towards the Blackingstone Rock.

Before arriving at the Rock, we all ground to a halt at a peculiar mark. We had a choice of Long and Shorts to the left and through pine woods or XL? Surely an X is a false trail murmured the Pig. "No", said Wood-Lend who went on to explain the XL stood for "Extra Long". For some unknown reason, all faces turned towards Man-Pig....questioningly.

 

It was 8 o'clock. About half an hour's daylight left, if we weren't under the cover of trees. It was so, so tempting to take the shorter route. "Extra Long", I said. Oh why, oh why did I say that? Big End raised his eyebrows and Beeflicker smiled.

 

"Does the trail bear left at the top of that yonder ridge?" I enquired.

"Maybe?" was Woodlend's guarded response.

 

And so it was that the Famous Five (Foolish Five more like) embarked on the uphill climb towards Blackingstone. Once at the Rock, it was the obligatory climb to the top, a quick photo, and then down those precariously steep stone steps. Thank goodness for the handrail. 

 

The trail now stayed on road and a fairly level run past a microwave transmitter for mobile phones and then left and downhill. At it's lowest point, there was another Long/Short split at the northern end of Kennick Reservoir. Wood-Lend said that both routes were about the same. Again, we went Long.

 

The trail followed the eastern bank of the reservoir until we arrived at a check. Nothing kicked out so I doubt if the Shorts had come this way. The trail went left and uphill and into the Laployd Plantation proper. With tree cover above us, it was now torch time. Another check at a T-junction on the woodland path. This time it was the right-hand fork that we followed past Hollowpark Rock and, after 700 yards, another check. This one was a left.

 

We were now on the fenced footpath that is plagued with roots and stones. Mind your footing or you will turn your ankle. The footpath took us down towards Hole and Little Tor Farm.

At the junction at Rookery Brook, we joined up with the Shorts' trail and encountered the "On Home" sign. Indeed, only 200 yards before the pub we caught up with Slip-on-Me, Melon Picker, Soapy and Palmolive.

 

A quick check of my elderly, and consistently under-reading, Garmin revealed 17 miles. 17 miles! Some halfwit hadn't reset it from Saturday's A2B.

 

Thank you Forrest and Wood Lend. Beeflicker, Big End and the Pig enjoyed the jaunt. But were there others on the Long also? Back in the pub, there was no sign of Beefy or Pisswell. In addition, the bar staff were looking for the owner of a prawn pizza. This turned out to be Strap-On who was also missing, together with Strap-Dancer. Nevertheless, in almost no time at all the MIA's all appeared - unscathed. Phew.

 

DOWN-DOWNS

Forrest was RA for the evening. He commenced by thanking the pub for the beer."Hoorah!". He then asked what we all thought of the trail. The usual moans, groans and lies. namely, "Too flat and too short".

 

Over to the Awards. There was no-one present who actually had an award to give away. However, Smellie had given two out of three of her awards to Piltdown man to bring to the Hash. Three awards! What on earth has she been up to? We're only just into the new hashing year and she's already laid down the gauntlet for others to challenge her attempt on this year's Pillock of the Year award. Also, where was the third award - the Pillock Shirt? In Prague on its holidays apparently.

 

With no awardees to dish the dirt, it was sneak time. Triple-Jump was the first to dob someone in. A story of someone getting a wet backside sliding down the foothills of Heltor. Who was the culprit? Slip-on-Me. She was awarded the Turkish wedding hat. A note for the "wet bottom" as Forrest couldn't quite get the word "extricate" out of his mouth.

 

The next whistleblower was Beeficker. He dobbed in the absent minded driver who merrily went down a road that's been closed for ten years only to find himself driving around the WBB claypits. The Songmeister decided that "Why was he born so beautiful...." was appropriate for the absent minded Man-Pig who has now been re-united with the Bacardi Hat.

 

Two halves of beer left. Were there any more stories? Yes. Forrest had one. All had observed Pork Torpedo's heroic efforts to get his huge van into a tiny parking space. This was a brilliant piece of parking. However, there was a fly in the ointment. He hadn't got enough clearance to get himself out on one side nor Horny on the other side. Spying an exiting pizza collector, after some several hundred full lock left and rights, he managed to get into an even smaller space!

Now Pork Torpedo was just about to take his punishment when Palmolive piped up, "You've got to hear this". It was Palmolive's ring tone; a recording of a quite tuneful Pork Torpedo reciting "Hold it in your hand Mrs Murphy". Absolutely brilliant.

 

Now, there was a Hasher who, by rights, should have got a Down-Down but he was very quiet. He had been very late in getting to the pub and so he had to do the trail on his own. Why was he so late? Had he read last week's Words and taken them literally and gone to Bradford? Nearly. He pitched up at the Cridford Inn. "It must be the right pub. Just look at all those Hashers - Big Foot, Shorty etc".........errr....wrong Hash. Arkangel has turned up at Haldon hash by mistake. Hmmmmm!

 

AGPU

Despite Shitfaced's attempts to bring some decorum to the proceedings the AGPU was the usual chaos. Threesum provided hard copies of the accounts that no-one looked at. Any existing committee member that wasn't present was unanimously re-elected. Any existing committee member that was present was also re-elected whether they wanted to be or not.

The only exception was a replacement dictated by technology or, rather, the lack thereof. Wet-Johnny is the On-Sex, or is it Social Sex? Never mind. The position can only really work if you have access to Facebook and the TVH3 Facebook page in particular. Apparently, Wet-Johnny is not on FB. Slip-on-Me very kindly volunteered to take up the position. Her first task? To write The Words for the evening's run. Her first reaction - point blank refusal. You, Madame, are an ideal candidate for Mismanagement. The role is yours.

 

NEXT WEEK

Next week's Hash is at The Highweek Inn, Highweek, Newton Abbot. Our Hares for the evening are Ernie and Strap-On. Will they actually leave the Highweek Inn during the trail or has their trail from The Court Farm set a precedent? We shall soon find out.

 

On-On to next week.

TVH3 The Words for 27th March 2023

Almost daylight trail from The Star Inn, Liverton

 

Run No. 1962

 

HARES: Beeflicker and Slip-on-Me

 

by Man-Pig & BB

 

Who wuz there: Beeflicker, Slip-on-Me, Bluebird, Man-Pig, Shitfaced, Soapy, Melonpicker, Palmolive, Beefy, Pisswell, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Coldtits, Big End, Well Hopped, Ned, U-Bend, Wet-Johnny, Manopause, Erection, Triple Jump, Broken man, Fallen Woman, Zoot, Hotlips, Strap-on, Forrest Stump, Wood Lend, Ernie, Arkangel & visitor Wife Beater from Cambridge Hash.

 

CIRCLE

A fairly brief Circle. Smellie announced that she was OK for hares up to 12th June - hoorah. Shitfaced welcomed our sole visitor - Wife Beater from Cambridge Hash. 

 

Forrest advised that next week's AGPU hash would be from a different venue; it was now going to be set from the Bridford Inn. Pizzas can be ordered on the night - but not too late.

Finally, Man-Pig was looking for the owner of lost property. A head torch had been found in the FBI last week. The usual suspects, Smellie and Coldtits were found innocent this week as the guilty party was this week's Hare - Beeflicker. It was then Beeflicker's turn to explain the trail; Walkers' 4 miles; Shorts' 5 miles; Longs' about 6.5 miles but take the first walkers' trail if you'd like it a bit shorter.

 

TRAIL FOR THE LONGS

Daylight! What a pleasant change to start the trail in daylight and relative warmth. What would the hares have in store for us with Beeflicker on only his second TVH3 lay? A jolly long and jolly excellent trail. That's what! And well marked too!

 

Left out of the pub car park and a check at the first junction after only 25 yards. Most went straight ahead but the trail actually beared left and into a housing estate. Big End led the pack followed by Man-Pig and visitor, Wife Beater (who is originally from Bickleigh so he knows the area).

 

The second check had the Pig on trail and heading down a cul-de-sac that ended with a footpath and then an arrow to the right and another check. This took us along a fenced in footpath across two fields and towards Old Liverton and the Walkers and Long/Short split.

The Longs went through a small new estate in Old Liverton and past a renovated pottery kiln. We then traversed across the main road between Ilsington and Liverton and then took a short loop back onto the main road.

 

Soon there was another check that took us into Rora Wood by Woodgate Cottages. Wet Johnny had incorrectly checked on road towards Ilsington whilst local knowledge visitor, Wife Beater, found the only Long/Short split now that we had already parted company with the Walkers. The Shorts went left and towards Penn Wood. The Long went right , following the footpath that skirts the northern periphery of Rora Wood.

 

The footpath looked strangely familiar. By the time we came to our fourth check, with the trail crossing a small stream (but not so small that you could keep your feet dry), the penny dropped. This was part of a trail that Wigwam and Bobbiball had laid about 8 or 9 years ago from the Carpenter's Arms. But we were doing it in reverse.

 

The trail now took us out of Rora Wood and onto open pasture and a steep climb. In front of me was Wet-Johnny. Behind me was Wife-Beater (who had checked out in the wrong direction), Wood Lend, Big End and Well Hopped. Ernie and Pisswell would be on the Long too but they were well out of sight.

 

At the top of the hill, we came to a new five-bar gate with peculiar steps built into its structure to encourage walkers to get their leg-over. A long and relatively level wide track towards Lower Lounstone ensued. It wasn't long before Wife Beater, Wood-Lend and Beeflicker overtook me.

 

At the end of the track, we rejoined tarmac and encountered another check. Wet Johnny had checked out the wrong way and I caught up with FRB's, Wood-Lend and Wife Beater at a five way junction at Great Lounston.

 

Both FRB's had checked out false trails so it was southeast on the lane towards Bethelcombe Cross (Bethelcombe Cross was part of Bobbiball's trail from 4 years ago. You may recall it as we started on a firing range. It absolutely bucketed down throughout the entire hash but, famously, this didn't prevent Bobbiball from providing freshly cooked bacon sandwiches).

The trail continued past Bethelcombe Cross, and then an arrow had us divert onto Ramshorn Down. We have been here a few times with Wigwam over the years.

 

At its peak, the views are spectacular (when it's daylight). It was quite tipsy now and time to put on our torches. There is a stone circle at the highest point. however, I don't recall ever having noticed that before...and for good reason. It is almost brand new. In the pub afterwards, one of Forrest's friends told me that it had only been build in 2020. Ah. So I wasn't losing my memory after all!

 

We hadn't seen Wood-Lend or Wife Beater since great Lounston. It was just myself, Wet-Johnny and Beeflicker atop Ramshorn Down. The trail took us down and then left on a long footpath just below the eastern edge of Rora Down. This too had been part of a previous Bobbiball trail.

 

The trail then started a steep descent towards Rora House. We were still high though. In the distance, I could make out the lights to the car park of the Welcome Stranger.

 

Wet-Jonny and Beeflicker were beginning to pull away so the last mile or so of the trail would be spent on my own. Entering Rora Wood, the trail went right and eastwards along its southern edge. Then surprisingly, an arrow had the trail change direction to take a sharp right and uphill into Penn Wood. 

 

The trail appeared to be going in a circle, and now that I am looking at an OS map, I see it was. About half way around the circle, another arrow had the trail almost come back on itself as it now changed to a far narrower path and a steepish descent to the lane-cum-track below Rora House.

 

Here I caught up with Coldtits. I bade her farewell as I pressed on. At the end of the poorly tarmac'd lane we came to a junction with a proper tarmac lane - and a chalk arrow. The trail was straight across and along a very muddy and slippery footpath. Almost zero traction and then.......errrrrg....total zero traction. I was well covered in mud. Fortunately, this footpath runs next to a brook so I gave myself a good wash off just before the footpath ended.

 

Back on tarmac, I could see wet footprints in front of me. Hmmmm. I wonder if I was the only one to take a fall on that section of trail. Someone else had definitely been paddling in the brook.

 

The footpath ended near Halford and an arrow had us go right and then immediately left and back towards Liverton where we rejoined the outward trail. I think this may have confused a few hashers but all made it back into the vey welcoming Star Inn.

 

All the Longs in the pub agreed that it had been a fantastic trail. Very well laid and well worth the nigh on 7 miles. Well done Beeflicker and Slip-on-Me.

 

AN ASPIRING THESPIAN & DONALD WHERE'S YOUR TROOSERS

I was not expecting to be able to go far, still plagued with a knee injury since that fateful hash of 23rd January.

 

A McWot style hash trail direct to the bar seemed to be odds-on favourite which would explain why I had not bothered to change into any trail apparel. In retrospect, whatamistakatomaka!

Fellow injury sufferer Beefy, hiking boots attired, was going for the projected four mile short, so what the heck, I would avago myself.

 

Last out of the car park along with the GM, we set off on our excursion - mini for Beefy but a major trip for the already limping Bird.

 

It was quite a fun trail out on the tarmac until veering hard a port into the boondocks and encountering dreaded mud, mud, not so glorious mud. 

 

Shrieks of rage emitted from the Birdbrain's beak as he tried to preserve his bright yellow £124 Hokas from the liquid evil.

 

'Is that all you've got!' trilled the self-psyching flightless one as he managed, with great difficulty, to overtake the dainty-stepping Fallen Woman.

 

'Your'e making a lot of noise!' observed a patient Fallen Woman as the betrewsed one fluttered by.

 

Fifty yards ahead, Ernie and Strap-On were having a nice little natter until being rudely interrupted as the still muttering Bird slipped between them.

 

Terra tarmac resumed, Soapy and Palmolive were overhauled and the open road beckoned. Faint cries were heard from behind. 'Bluebird, Bluebird, .....BLUEBELL!' A 180 degree turn did the injured knee no good at all. 'What is it?' 'Check back.' Long sigh....

 

The hares had been as cunning as a bag of weasels as suddenly, the walkers appeared from the left.

 

Exiting the village limits of Liverton, the true adventure began oh Dearly Are You Still there...

The L/S split and trail buddies Ernie and Strap-On bade each other a tearful farewell as Ernie decided to risk it and go as a biscuit whilst Strap-On opted for the safety first short.

 

I've just come down
From the Isle of Skye
I'm not very big and I'm awful shy
And the lassies shout when I go by
Donald, where's your troosers?

 

Pursuit of Soapy and Palmolive proved futile as they continued running up the woodland path and the pain was becoming annoying. There was nothing for it but to take my trews off and apply the neoprene support. Only Strap-On witnessed the operation, and he would keep mum about it in the pub. Good boy S-O, you know it makes sense.

 

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw U Bend

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

 

No? Well please yourselves then.

 

I gave him a quick burst of Whip Jamboree on my banjo as I continued on my merry way.

A sly attempted short-cut didn't work out as well as I hoped, and I had to be called back on trail by Beefy who was walking faster than my shuffle.

 

As we turned for home, Beefy spun me a tale of an aspiring thespian from deep in the Teign Valley. Apparently, Forrest, he of Panto fame, has been getting rave reviews for his acting talent. His latest being a production, for adults only, where he plays several characters in a play. Hurray!

 

It became a little congested on trail as Smellie and then U Bend hove into view, and then the first of the longs, Wood Lend, mit Muttley, swept past.

 

That last muddy lane was a corker. Man-Pig confessed to coming down, and the skid marks bore testimony to many a slide. The Bird slithered on landing and impaled himself on the barbed wire fence bordering the death hazard.

 

Finally, the Star's welcoming lights were passed, and it was time for a well-earned pint. All three disciplines of long, short, and walkers certainly got their money's worth. 

 

Well done Beeflicker and, for tonight's trail, the aptly named Slip on Me!

 

DOWN-DOWNS

Licensee James generously provided four halves of ale and a half pint of water for the Down-Downs. Thank'ee kindly, landlord.

 

The first award was the Turkish wedding hat from former recipient, U Bend. This he could have given to a number of candidates. 

 

There then unravelled the story of an alluring Harriet attempting to get Broken Man's attention by performing some sort of a courtship dance in front of him. I don't know what Fallen Woman would have though of all this. Additionally I don't know if this was a jig, a twist or a twirl. U-Bend identified Smellie as the guilty party and grabbed her just as she was on the way to the ladies! A note for "the twizzler".

 

Next up was Bluebird with the Jester's hat. Bluebird had been quizzing our visitor as to how he had got his name (apparently because his wife had always been faster than him but, one day, he actually beat her). Additionally, Bluebird wanted to know all about the Cambridge Hash.

"We always run from the same pub", said our guest.

 

"What?"

"Yes. And we never get bored. It's always a different trail. I know all the back passages!"

 

I'm sure you do. A note for the "Hershey Highway".

 

Man-Pig thought that he had the Hashshit shirt from last week but, upon closer inspection, it turned out to be the Pillock shirt. The Pig also held a collection of lost property. Beeflicker got his head torch back, and then the Pig began his search for a Harriet....a very special Harriet as this particular Harriet has three hands.

 

Man-Pig has collected three, non-matching, small black nylon gloves. "Who is the three handed harriet". A show of hands revealed Georgy Porgy to have an additional hand. Useful for all the housework no doubt. However, neither were worthy recipients. Had anyone else forgotten something this week? Blank faces all round. "Has anyone forgotten to bring their award from last week?". A sheepish Smellie had forgotten the Bacardi Hat. In fact, she seemed to have forgotten that she'd got a half pint to down as well. A note for "the amnesiac".

 

Finally, a half of beer and water for each of the Hares for an absolutely fantastic trail. Very good indeed.

 

Thanks to James at the Star Inn for providing the Down-Downs and making us most welcome.

 

NEXT WEEK

Next week's Hash is at The Bridford Inn. It is also the AGPU. Despite the occasion, the Hare, Forrest-Stump, is threatening a long one just to make the AGPU as brief as possible.

 

Now it's goodbye from us for now and

On-On to next week!