TVH3 The Words for 15th July 2024

The Devon Dumpling, Shiphay

Run No. 2029

 

U-BEND COMES UP SHORT

 

HARES: Pork Torpedo and Horny

 

Those gathered: Pork Torpedo, Horny, Shitfaced, Man-Pig, Hotlips, Zoot, Cheerio Beerio, Archangel, Beefy, Pisswell, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Beeflicker, Squeaky Bum, Wetfart, Slip-on-Me, Wet Johnny, Strap-On, Strap Dancer, Psycho, Soapy, Palmolive, Smash, Charlotte, Polyfella, Coldtits, Satnav, U Bend, Well Hopped, Big End & Ned, Bobbiball (pub only) returnees Wide Receiver and Ollie and virgin - Isobel.

 

Circle

Despite a poor weather forecast for 7pm, we were treated to a dry Circle followed by a dry run. There were the usual vehicular pirouettings in the car park as various Hashers squeezed large vans into small spaces but all eventually got parked with spaces to spare.

 

Announcements were fairly brief. Hotlips and Zoot had turned up to promote TVH3's forthcoming 40th anniversary weekend. A number of Plympton and Exeter Hashers have already signed up but TVH3 numbers are still relatively low

 

Wetfart made a briefer announcement regarding Teapot and then we had two latecomers. First we had Wide Receiver turn up in his 1978 MGB Roadster with an old fashioned black and silver number plate. I seriously doubt the legality of the old style number plates on a 1978 vehicle but WR assured me that they are legal. Our other latecomer into the Circle was Ollie. Good to see you both back.

 

I had thought that I had missed something on the TVH3 website as Soapy and Palmolive turned up in fancy dress followed by our Hares both dressed as rabbits. 

 

I was soon corrected that they were, in fact, Hares. Obvious really. As for Soapy and Palmolive, they just fancied dressing up......as did Beeflicker. Why he had come as an imitation Irishman with a red wig and matching beard I still don't know. Anyway, the Long and the Short of it was that I hadn't missed a fancy dress announcement on the TVH3 Facebook page. 

 

I did ask the whereabouts of Melonpicker. He has a bad back and Soapy has a big smile. Make of that what you will.

 

Wet Johnny has brought along his daughter, Isobel. It is her virgin Hash and she is duly called forward and into the Circle. 

 

Pork Torpedo is the only one with flour so he steps forward and places a gentle puff of flour on each trainer. Fortunately it is not wet so Wet Johnny will not be up till midnight cleaning it all off before it congeals to concrete.

 

The Hares/White Rabbits announced three trails. A Walker's of about three and a half miles; Mediums, about four and a half and Longs about six; the longest Long is the last one which will add approximately 2 miles to the trail. The sweetie stop would be quite early on in the trail so any Walkers not up to 3.5 miles, simply retrace your steps after the sweetie stop for a two miler. Simples.

 

Trail

I was to find out later, in the pub, that this is the first time that Pork Torpedo and Horny had even been to the Devon Dumpling let alone set a trail from there. So, for what is about to follow, may we be truly thankful for it was a lovely trail; a mixture of town and country, road and footpath and, inevitably in Devon, up and down.

 

We turned left out of the car park and within 25 yards came to the first of three Long/Short splits. The Shorts turned left up Yealm Grange and then took a footpath towards Dart Avenue. 

 

The Longs carried on up to a check at the junction of Exe Hill and Collaton Road. The trail now took a long loop all the way around Fowey Avenue only to rejoin Exe Hill and the Shorts. 

 

Next it was left onto Higher Edginswell Lane and then right onto Marldon Road heading for Hamelin Way.

 

The sweetie stop was at the ancient burial ground at Gallows Gate. For the past 4 or 5 years, this has been the favoured sleeping spot for one of our local tramps. I was rather surprised by the absence of a tent. Maybe he's on his hols? This was also the location of the second Long/Short split. The Longs were directed to the top gate and the Shorts and Walkers to the lower gate.

 

One check and a short loop later, the Longs were back at the lower gate and following the Shorts on a wide public footpath that went up and down and up and down again until we arrived at the final Long/Short split. 

 

The Shorts went left and down to the bottom of the valley whilst the Longs went right and up. This is lovely part of the trail. Initially, the trail followed the broad gravelled main footpaths. 

 

As we got closer to Cockington Court, the trail almost turned back on itself and was now in woodland. Soon we were dropping down some woodland steps into the car park at the back of Cockington Court near the craft shops.

 

Somehow, Smellie, Pisswell and Man-Pig found themselves at the back of the Longs........too much yakking and not enough running.

 

At the Drum Inn, we overshot an arrow and had to backtrack onto Cockington Lane. Turning into a public footpath at the bottom of the valley, we caught up with Archangel just as we arrived at a cross. A 10 foot check back took us up the edge of the valley on a path running parallel with Cockington Lane.

At the junction of Cockington Lane and Nut Bush Lane, the trail crossed over and onto Drake Avenue. I had thought that we might have run across Armada park but not this evening. 

 

Drake Avenue runs into Upper Cockington Lane and at its junction with Marldon Road (very close to the Gromit residence) the trail took us right along Marldon Road. This was only for about 100 yards as an arrow had us descending down Dairy Hill and back to the pub. Here we caught up with Slip-on-Me and Shitfaced.

 

The Devon Dumpling is just on the left at the bottom of Dairy Hill but this didn't prevent Smellie turning right until called back by Shitfaced.

 

Down-Downs

The pub had put on a veggie curry and a meat curry with rice and chips for the Hash at £7/head. It looked very nice. 

 

In the absence of Forrest Stump, and upon Pisswell's suggestion, it was decided that our stand-in RA, Strap-On, could do with some practice. So, once most had finished their scoff, it was onto the Down-Downs.

 

Strap-On started by thanking the Hash for the beer. He then asked if there were any awards present from previous weeks. 

 

Hotlips steps up with the baby cock hat (this hasn't been seen for ages....the hat, not the cock!).

Almost inevitably, the story involves large cars and small parking spaces and the driver's inability to cram it all into one space. A DD for U-Bend but NOT SO FAST. Our Hare wants the first three Down-Downs to be consumed simultaneously. What is PT up to? I fear that he has a cunning plan up his sleeve. Indeed he has as we shall soon see.

 

"Are there any more awards?"

 

Yes. Wet-Johnny has been running around all night with the Hashshit shirt on. At this stage, I am at the bar and can't hear what is going on. 

 

From what little I heard, there is still some lingering speculation as to how Beefy came to be wearing a splint last week and having his wrist strapped this week....self abuse? Nobody knows....not even Pisswell. Beefy gets his half pint of ale and is told not to drink it.

 

There are no more awards but Shitfaced has a story about a Hasher racing, and in a proper race!

"The guilty party is behind you".

 

Standing behind Strap-On is Bobbiball. Despite the improbability of Bobbiball racing anywhere there is a chorus of "Bobbiball, Bobbiball, Bobbiball". 

 

The looks of incredulity are well founded. Standing next to Bobbiball is Polyfella. He did do a proper race over the weekend and did rather well in it. I think it was a 5k or a 10k. Polyfella gets his half pint and is also told not to drink it.

 

Like a magician, Pork Torpedo reaches behind a chair and presents the "Speed-Drinker". This is a 1.2m long piece of 38mm x 50mm softwood with 3 plastic pint glasses screwed to it. The glasses have been equally spaced and the screws have been sealed with O-rings and silicone mastic. No leaks here. 

 

The three awardees are called up and they hold the device up in front of them. Pork Torpedo then pours their half pints into the pint glasses. This is going to be a simultaneous triple Down-Down.

 

The Hash is giggling away merrily, and for good reason. There is a very obvious fly in the ointment. One end of the device is being held by Polyfella. The other end of the device is being held by Beefy.

 

They both have the edge of their pint pots up to their lips ready for the "down-Down" command. In the middle, however, is U-Bend. Try as he might, the best that he could do was to get his nose upto the edge of the glass. This was a disaster waiting to happen until Satnav grabbed a bar stool for U-bend to kneel on. Ah, that's a lot better. So good, in fact, that not a drop was spilt. I wonder if the Speed-Drinker will get an airing at the Isca Roman Away Day in a fortnight?

 

The last half of ale has to go to the Hare. As the Songmeister will have his mouth full, Man-Pig is asked to lead the Down-Down song...."You're stupid. You're stupid...." By this time, the Songmeister has decanted his half into a cow's horn.

 

Always last to go if there are no drivers is the half pint of water. This goes to co-hare Horny. Again, the drink is decanted into the horn as our Songmeister gives us his rendition of "Love me tender......"

Horny doesn't really want the water and so ensues the largest spillage of the evening as Horny thinks that her bunny suit needs a wash.

 

A final "Thankyou to the pub for preparing a Hash curry for us" and we're off.

 

Next week

Next week's Hash is from Ausewell Cross car park which is just north of Ashburton heading directly up to the moors. Another Dartmoor odyssey with Pisswell is in the offing. The On-Down has yet to be chosen. See the TVH3 FB page for updates.

 

ON ON to next week, MP.

MONDAY'S TRAIL

 Run #2029 Monday 15th July 7:15 pm circle up from ye olde Devon Dumpling, 108 Shiphay Ln, Shiphay, Torquay TQ2 7BY with Pork Torpedo and Hornie.

TVH3 The Words for 8th July 2024

The Dolphin, Bovey Tracey

Run No. 2028 - Wet, wet, wet

 

HARE: Poacher

 

I've never seen a stranger crowd: Poacher, Shitfaced, Man-Pig, Forrest-Stump, Perry, Beefy, Pisswell, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Beeflicker, Wetfart, Ablesemen, Slip-on-Me, Ernie, Wet Johnny, Manopause Magnifico, Pork Torpedo, Horny, Soapy, Palmolive, Miss'Ing, Smash, Charlotte, Justin with Dylan, returnee Runner Bean and virgin Johnny Walker....yes, his real name!

 

Circle

Well. What a difference a week makes! Last week we had sun, sun and glorious sun. This week was wet wet wet. Last week we had a Conservative government. This week we have a Labour government. This week we will have our third scribe in three weeks. Albeit, the current incumbent is seriously considering resigning his commission given the excellence of Beefy's words from a fortnight ago.

 

But some things don't change. This week's words will be devoid of, "I wandered lonely as a cloud....." (Wordsworth/Gabriel) as we return to the dreary prose of the old and wizened scribe. Another thing that hasn't changed this week is the Hare. Poacher is back for his second trail in a week. Well done sir. I salute you.

 

A rather damp Shitfaced (had he been co-haring?) welcomed twent six (soon to be just as damp) hashers into the Circle. This included returnee Runner Bean, looking leaner and fitter than ever, and a virgin by the name of Johnny Walker....honest guv!

 

Poacher came forward and gave the Wet Johnny doppelgänger a sprinkling of flour whilst Johnny Walker explained that Pisswell had made him cum.

 

"Beefy......do you have any comments on this?"

 

"Yes. I can't work my camera with this splint on my arm!"

 

"Indeed".

 

Smellie is OK for Hares up to 4th November. I think that Forrest might want to pencil himself in for fireworks' night....weather permitting.

 

Ah. The weather. It is Wimbledon fortnight and once again the great British summer has lived up to its reputation. Namely wet. On the upside, I don't think that there's any fear of a hosepipe ban this summer.

Wetfart has an update on Teapot. He continues to make progress but at a painfully slow pace. But progress of any sort is to be welcomed. May the recovery continue.

 

So, over to the Hare for the briefest of descriptions of the trail.

 

"You're going to get muddy. Out the gate!"

 

Trail

Sure enough. At the entrance to the Dolphin's car park an arrow had the pack running up to the fire station roundabout before following another arrow up towards Moretonhampstead.

 

Well before reaching Moretonhampstead, we came to our first check. The obvious route was across the A382 and onto the Dartmoor Way - a disused railway track which now forms a part of Devon's cycling network. Wet Johnny, Manopause and Runner Bean checked out in this direction whilst the Hare remained suspiciously static at the check.

 

"On back", cries Poacher as he leads the loiterers into Bovey Park and through the underpass to access the Dartmoor Way in a rather subterranean manner. Initially, we were on the old railway track. Then we dropped down to the north bank of the River Bovey and the Walkers' & Shorts'/Longs' split. Poacher had the Longs off piste and scrambling up a slippery slope back onto the Dartmoor Way.

 

I was pretty sure that we'd be heading up to Wilford Bridge and returning to Parke via Blackmoor Copse and the woods to the south of the river. This mental model settled into my mind. I knew that there are effectively three parallel trails that could be taken between Bovey Tracey and Wilford Bridge whilst remaining on the north side of the river. We could follow the river bank; we could stay on the cycle path/dismantled railway or take the top path through the woods.

 

Poacher's trail was as cunning as a fox. We were treated to a mixture of all three paths and I still have no idea at which point we did a U-turn. Somehow,I found myself at the head of the pack having checked out a path with no check whilst the rest of the pack carried on up a broad tarmac track with Beeflicker leading the charge.

 

Thinking back, I am now sure that the broad tarmac track was the Dartmoor Way and the rest of the pack were, indeed, on a fool's errand heading towards Wilford Bridge. 

 

Meanwhile, I caught a glimpse of Poacher as Ernie and I climbed up some steps to a broad gravel footpath. I thought that I was back on the old railway line but I must have been on the higher footpath. Poacher was smiling and standing next to a newly marked check.

 

I went left towards what I assumed was Wilford Bridge. Ernie checked to the right. I found myself on trail and eventually caught up with Forrest-Stump at the final Long/Short split. This was a short loop and the next thing I know I am at Park Bridge.

 

By now, the rest of the Longs have caught up and, after an absence of marks for a couple of hundred yards, we are back on trail in the Parke car park....so to speak. It is now On-Home and to a welcome change into some dry clothes.

 

Thankyou Poacher. Another great trail in pretty appalling conditions.

 

Down-Downs

We tuck into some beers and some scoff prior to engaging in the Down-Downs. This was just as well as we had some late back from the trail.

 

The first late arrival was a very wet Smellie. She had got off trail and done her own thing. Next in was Shitfaced. At least he had got changed and was dry. Shortly thereafter, another wet late entry, 

 

Ablesemen. She too had got lost and done her own thing. Finally, a half dressed Wetfart entered the pub just before the Down-Downs. I am assuming that Miss'ing was back too but she is more of runner rather than a drinker and usually prefers to pass on the pub. So all back safely and the DD's can begin.

 

Back from his hols the Pig RA's. The first DD goes to super-Hare, Poacher. It is, of course, a cider. Pork Torpedo is with us so Poacher's DD is accompanied by, "He's the meanest.....".

 

Next, "Are there any awards?" Pisswell has been running around with the Hashshit shirt on. It is soaking wet and it is cold. But it has been washed....in a puddle. 

 

There is a story about splashing on trail but who is the guilty party? Wet-Johnny is identified by name but at a police line-up the Hash fails to distinguish between the real Wet-Johnny and the interloper Perkin Walbeck who now enjoys going by the name of Johnny Walker.

 

A quick check of the decibel-meter reveals a draw. The DD goes to Wet-Johnny's slightly taller twin to the accompaniment of the Songmeister. A quick tap on the shoulder and our visitor, Johnny Walker, dispatches his half in an instant.

 

Not so fast, Wet-Johnny. "Will the real splasher please come forward?" The real splasher gets a half of ale whilst the Songmeister comes up with, "You're stupid. You're stupid....."

 

"Are there any more stories?"

 

Yes. A story of selfless chivalry and innovation on the Hash. Someone has completed the Walkers' trail and kept dry. Not only had he kept himself dry, he had also kept his John Thomas dry when the call of nature came knocking half way through the trail. 

 

Piltdown Man had his brolly up all the way around the trail. For most of the trail, he did his best to share his shelter with two Harriets, Ablesemen and Georgy Porgy. But, now Mr Tadger takes precedence. The Harriets were abandoned whilst the pocket python was given a quick watering. "Why was he born so beautiful......"

 

There is only a half pint of water left. There are no stories but there is an item of lost property to be retuned to its owner. This time it is quite easy to identify the owner as this particular item of lost property has the owner's name on it. Not only that, it also records his official title bestowed on him by the King himself in the New Year Honours List. It is "Pillock of the Year 2023". It is a hat and it is sitting on Man-Pig's head.

 

The forgetful one takes one look at the half pint of water and makes a bee-line to the bar to get himself a pint before the ignominy of his identity is revealed to all those gathered. 

 

Just in time, Forrest gets his own Down Down (a full pint - no less) and dispatches it PDQ, once again to the accompaniment of the Songmeister.

 

Next week

Next week's Hash is from The Devon Dumpling, Torquay. Our Hares are Pork torpedo and Horny. The pub is offering curries, both meat and a vegetarian options at £7/head. You can order on the night and the pub will be making a big pot of each.

 

On-On to next week. MP.

 

Epilogue: Poacher couldn't recall if he'd arranged any Down-Downs with the pub. We asked the barman and he said that he didn't know anything about it. 

 

We explained the tradition behind the Down-Downs and he said that he would ask the pub Landlady.

Some considerable time later, we got the Landlady's response: "We don't do that anymore". 

 

Oh dear. What a shame.

MONDAY'S DETAILS

 Run #2028 Monday 8th July circle up 7:15 pm from the Dolphin Hotel, 1A Station Rd, Bovey Tracey, Newton Abbot TQ13 9AL with double seeking hare Poacher.

THE POACHER TURNED GAMEKEEPER

Run #2027 Monday 1st July from the Church House Inn, Stokeinteignhead

Hare: Poacher

 

Who wuz there: GM Shitfaced, Piltdown Man, Forrest Stump with Muttley, SMEllie, Satnav, Wet Fart, Slip on Me with Boo, Justin with Dylan, Well Hopped, Big End, Rodger the Dodger with Ned, Pisswell and Beefy. Squeaky Bum, BeeFlicker, Smash with grand-daughter Charlotte, Soapy, Palmolive, Melon Picker, Poacher, Hotlips, Zoot, U Bend, Strap-On, Strap-Dancer, BB, Ernie, Pork Torpedo, Hornie,

 

Piltdown and Smellie had asked if I was okay to write the words for #2027 and I had, at the time, thought I was.

 

After three failed drafts - Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, I found that levity had deserted me.

 

This then, is my fourth (and final) attempt to relay my thoughts of the evening - albeit limiting the usual free-flowing embellishment.

 

It was late in the day that I decided I could make a return to hashing after fifteen weeks in the wilderness.

 

The intention had been to assist Poacher with the trails. A miscommunication on my part resulted in Poacher waiting for me at the pub before setting off. 

 

Thinking that Poacher was going to drop by at my abode, I drove down to Stoke to find his 4 X 4 in the car park. Enquiring in the pub, Maisey said that he had been in for a drink and then had set off up Deane Road. I had missed him by about ten minutes.

 

There were two choices. Return home and probably give the hash a miss or, now I was here, get a short run in and have a reserve walkers' or short trail. I chose the latter option.

 

My second visit to the pub at around 7 pm found Poacher, Beefy, Pisswell and Forrest already there.

Poacher had laid all three trails and was rightly dubious of my story.

 

Back from her many adventures, Pisswell looked bronzed and lean. She confirmed that she had lost a stone - I tip my cap to you. I also noted that U Bend was looking trimmer, and he too had lost quite a few pounds and would be setting off on the long trail to keep up the good work.

 

The roll call was a solid thirty. In a bit of a daydream, I missed the circle banter and even Poacher's trail description. I did hear Wetfart say that there was no change in Teapot's condition. It will be good to see him back with us. Let us keep our fingers crossed.

 

Not having run for some time, I wasn't sure how far I could go, but a gentle walk around the short was not for me. If I cannot run, I will not hash. 

 

On home territory, I could bale out when the legs inevitably went. Forrest wasn't hopeful of running and had resigned himself to hobbling around the trail.

 

The first check fifty yards up Deane saw the trail turn right up onto the bridle path which climbs to the A379 corniche. 

 

Heavily overgrown and rock-strewn, it was not possible for me to run, and I awaited the cavalry charge of FRB's. Threequarters of a mile up, I heard Beefy calling the on on but his progress was halted by a tempting check by a field that ultimately went nowhere.

 

The trademark of the trail would be the abundance of checks, so beloved by the pack but abhorred by the FRB's. Tonight, the poacher had become gamekeeper.

 

In the words of the poet, I halted gladly at the summit and paused awhile to gather breath. Still no sign of anyone but I was getting a bit lonely. I waited but still no takers. Having recovered from the climb, I legged it down to the main road.

 

I had led a charmed life thus far, but the last grains of the egg-timer were trickling away.

 

Into the coastal fields, another fiendish check. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing - Poacher had mentioned that the trail went close to Maidencombe so I plumped for the right hand track above Suicide Woods. (Do you recall our outing in there many years ago?)

 

The check proved to have been the closest to Maidencombe. Two minutes lost and now the game was up.

 

Another cry of ON ON! and Beefy was there. A hundred yards down on the coast path - another check.

Still clinging to the 'close to Maidencombe' snippet, I doggedly veered right down the unforgiving trestles. On one, on two .... ON THREE! I was Shirley ON!

 

Half-way up the hill, I think I got a glimpse of Beefy behind me. 

 

Disquietingly, he did not follow. I then took a closer look at the marks which were, I must admit, a little faded. 

 

Old marks, oh dear. Slip on Me confirmed that they must have been AH3 who were at the Church House the previous Tuesday. 

 

It was an honest mistake. I looked up. 

 

High above, hashers were arriving at the first check. An orange vest, probably Well Hopped. I was too spent to backtrack up the savage trestles and I ran up the white flag.

 

Plan B was to climb to the main road by the southern flank of Suicide Wood and smash back down the bridle path close to Pools Weir.

 

Fifteen weary minutes later, I staggered over the stile by the main road. On Higher Commons - a cross, I was back on trail. The check down the bridle path was kicked out. I was sure I was last on trail.

 

Meanwhile, back with the longs, Beefy, Beeflicker and company were making slow progress out towards Labrador Bay. They were further delayed by a backcheck which Poacher had thrown, gleefully no doubt, into the mix. Justin had not seen this mark before and its meaning had to be explained.

The longs made Labrador bends before climbing to the top path and eventually retracing their steps back to join up with the short trail.

 

It had been an unusual hash for me. I hadn't completed the long, short or walkers trails. I had been in hailing distance of Beefy a few times and seen a few hashers in the distance. Never mind, it had been an adventure and I had enjoyed it.

 

Back in the car park, Forrest had some good news. He had, after all, managed to run and was very pleased. 

 

Thirty hashers, each with their own adventure and story to tell.

 

Now for the après trail in the Church House.

 

Smellie was sitting by the bar with a bag of ice on her ankle which she had turned en route but no lasting damage, thankfully.

 

The £5 pint is now firmly established. I can still recall Blaster standing at the bar in the Thatched Tavern when confronted with one of the first (in Torbay) £3 pints. 'HOW MUCH?' Blaster roared!

 

Shitfaced was sitting at the bar with a soft drink. Soon to be a hasher reborn, he was keeping away from the waft and temptation of garlic mushrooms.

 

Forrest first asked Strap-On if he wished to RA before presiding over the down-downs.

 

The recipients were: Smellie, Pisswell (Hashit shirt), Strap-On and Poacher (hare) for a great trail,

 

A final DD went to Smash's granddaughter Charlotte who downed the water with alactrity.

 

We will be returning to the Church House later in the year (October) for the Harvest Festival auction after an interval of some seven years.

 

Next week: A visit to the Dolphin in Bovey Tracey where Poacher will be haring again.

 

A little shamefaced about the words, normal service may not be resumed for some time.

 

Postscript: Somewhere east of Stokeinteignhead there is a charming little trail chalk-marked almost exclusively on small stones...

MONDAY'S DETAILS

Run #2027 Monday 1st July 7:15 pm circle up from the Church House Inn, Stokeinteignhead, Newton Abbot TQ12 4QA with your hare Poacher making a most welcome return to trail laying.

The unusual map (below) was posted by dear Winfield way back in March 2012.

DYLAN AND THE BONZO DOGS BANNED!

Run #2026 Monday 24th June

Hare: Beeflicker, most ably assisted by Squeaky Bum

 

This bumfuzzling twattle basket contains: the apocryphal, the wildly inaccurate, the vague and, possibly, some truth. 

 

Names have been changed to protect the guilty. Gabriel, the principal recording angel, won't be bothered by any of this. 

 

(Those who are allergic to, or who are otherwise affected by the truth, have only themselves to blame and should not expect others to change their behaviour merely to suit them.)

 

T'was hot and moonless that early evening in June. A pair of slubberdegullions, by the name of Pisswell and Beefy, sat on a bench by the gate of St Mary's parish Church awaiting the arrival of others of their ilk: scobberlotchers all!

 

Cheerio Beerio, Big End, Psycho and Wet Fart were observed skippering their tenders in the vague hope of finding a suitable mooring. Time passed. Gradually, the snollygosters and ninnyhammers of TVH3 gathered and greeted one another.

 

The Hash comprised, in no particular order: Piltdown Man, Georgie P'Orgy with Chocka, SMEllie, Cheerio Beerio, Satnav, Wet Fart, Slip on Me with Boo, Justin with Dylan, Well Hopped, Big End, Rodger the Dodger with Ned, Beeflicker, Piddler, Coldtits, Warm Front, Psycho, Pisswell and Beefy. Elsewhere, Squeaky Bum was lurking.

 

GM Shitfaced was absent, as was Vice-bishop U Bend so, former GM, Piltdown Man was called upon to take charge of proceedings.

 

There were announcements: It was pointed out that Pisswell has returned from her travels; Wet Fart reported that Teapot's progress is slow, but positive, and has walked up the road and back, accompanied and using a stick instead of a frame; Doris says "Hi" and hopes to return to the Hash using her frame.

SMEllie merely asked for someone to write the Words, in Man Pig's absence. Beefy was nominated by his black-hearted, poker-back, nutcracker pseudo-wife: there was much jeering, cheering and laughter. You're not laughing now, are you?

 

Over to the Hare. Your chronicler missed some of what he said because a steam whistle was still going off in his head. Two, four and six miles, I think, were mentioned. Chalk and flour on the right so, ignore left hand side marks.

 

"On that way!" we were informed so, we set off along Drew Street, into Milton Street and left into Southdown Hill only to be called back by the Hare (who accompanied the Front Runners in order to mark the chalk checks, in the correct direction, with flour) to direct us into Upton Manor Road which became the boundary of Saint Mary's Park.

 

A check saw us into the park where we passed a bowling green and tennis courts, after which we descended some steps to leave the park. A short trot led us to the rear of Saint Mary's Church and we entered the yard via a pedestrian gate.

 

We arrived at a check and Beefy went left only to find, of all things, in a church yard, a cross!

 

Back on Trail, the Hare pointed out a rarity (thankfully) in the form of a female War grave. On on we continued through the houses, across a small park to emerge on the coast path above Saint Mary's Bay.

This took us on to Mansands via Sharkham Point and we were treated to spectacular views of the wine-dark sea as it rested on the familiar but nonetheless captivating coastline.

 

On the descent to the beach, I passed SMEllie and that scobberlotcher Piddler whom congratulated me on having knees that work.

 

When we arrived at the beach, Psycho decided to use the sea to wash her head at us. I wish I had cooled off in similar fashion for, the next part of the Trail was the notorious climb to Challeycroft Road.

The pre-Circle chat had, in part, been about the [lack of] parking. 

 

Beeflicker had mentioned, gnomically, that his example of Henry Ford's less embarrassing creations had been abandoned in a field. 

 

All was made clear now, including Squeaky Bum's absence from the Circle, for it was she who was manning the beer, cider, sweetie and crisp stop. Nobody wanted to leave.

 

Most of the walkers didn't get there as they were off on a folly of their own, according to Slip on Me who could not persuade the others... their loss!

 

SMEllie was the first to leave and your chronicler did the same shortly afterwards. The remaining Trail wound through the suburban landscape of Higher Brixham and back to the On Down.

 

The pub was welcoming to those with a maximum of two legs so, Dylan and the Bonzo Dogs were, indeed, banned.

 

At the Circle, the number of RAs present was noted. They were counted again at the On-down. The consistent total was zero. Perhaps this is why there were no Down-downs. The truth is that I simply do not know.

 

Coldtits was the subject of some concern and, I believe, was picked up by Beeflicker, after having ended up erroneously on the Longs. 

 

We all went out; we all came back; we all enjoyed the bit in between.

 

Thanks Beeflicker and Squeaky Bum.

 

On on until next week! Beefy.

 

Post scriptum: I'll never do this again.

Post post scriptum: never say never.

 

Next week: We are at the Church House Inn at Stokeinteignhead with Poacher.