The reported demise of the usual haunt in the village of Shillington - no food, and beer supply not certain, brought a long-unused pub to the fore. A small car park, but we can just about manage; very friendly landlady and locals. Run laid on Saturday morning in glorious sunshine - Spring must be round the corner. Bit of rain overnight but nothing serious, so the hares arrive with just the On Inn, and a couple of last minute bars to lay. Oh Oh - why is the car park nearly full already, and none of them Hashers' cars at that? Turns out that there was a live gig at the pub the night before and some of the audience got a bit lagered and left their cars there, rather than discuss the matter with the local plod. So the hares quickly come up with a parking plan to get in as many cars as possible. Five minutes to eleven and the plan is holding up with two slots left even.

The circle is called promptly, but then moved twice as a positive queue of latecomers try to get into the car park. The hares hint at a suggestion of a pub stop, but the question of whether it would actually be open at the right time posed a doubt. After the usual round of birthdays etc., Florence returns the Hashit from last week in a well-known High Street dry cleaners' placky cover, on a hanger, AND IRONED!!! A brave action, but one I think that secretly won the support of many Hashers. Finally, and somewhat late the pack is off.

Early sinners were Giblets, Penetrator and F'c a Duck, who headed for the church but found the path to righteousness barred (actually tee'd). Back past the pub, the right trail is picked up and the first shiggy encountered. A check with 5 options is explored fully but all options turn out false, all that is except the one going back in nearly (but not quite) the way we came in. The path across a field leads to the road and the first held check at a point about 150 feet from the pub (pub not visible from there). At some point around here Paintball and Shaggy are joined at the wrist by handcuffs, courtesy of the RA.

On to another multi-way check with lots of shiggy and a couple of very amused horses, who watched strange humans dash around their field for a bit, yelling incantations (especially Giblets) and then leave (the humans that is). The real trail is over the road and across a field with a temporary fence apparently blocking the footpath across it. The pack eventually climbs up to Upper Gravenhurst, where local knowledge of the nearness of the Green Dragon pub convinces one and all which way to go. Shame really - we're going to the pub, but not directly (Cardiac not best pleased). A brief(ish) stop at the pub and with the clock now standing at 12:05 (remember it was a late start), Donut asks when the taxis are arriving. When told that it's not an A to B run observes "-- but we're in Upper bleedin' Gravenhurst". A gentle downhill amble followed by a less than gentle uphill push, finds 3 hashers, Giblets, Mekon and Bedpan at a numerical check which was laid with a 3 in it, but which now seemed to have mysteriously vanished - what a co-incidence! Paintball, Pecker and ANOther lead the run in at a pace with the field now well strung out.

In the circle, down-downs for the hares, a couple of birthdays (Kevin Griffiths and Mekon?), Mekon gets her 50th run tankard, Shaggy and Paintball (for unnatural coupling), the red dress to F'c a Duck (for laundering the Hashit), Ringer (for being lippy with the RA, again), Pooper (and Munchkin?) for competitive running, Sasquatch for dobbing on Pooper, Screamer and Giblets for full frontal body-climbing on the hash, Dead Meat for a poor performance as RA's Little Helper and doubtless others. Most importantly, the GM awarded the (close-fitting) Hashit to G-String, which was moistened whilst worn rather than on the ground - the beer was thrown at 'im.

OnOn
Ringer and Nik-Nak